Page 30 of Between Love and Loathing
I sighed and wove my way through the Pacific’s halls without freaking shoes, hoping I wouldn’t see anybody. I’d called my Uber and knew if I could hide away in the bakery with the lights off until he got here, I’d be just fine.
It was a terrible walk of shame that wasn’t even a walk of shame because I hadn’t gotten any the night before. But when I turned the corner into the lobby, I froze and felt the embarrassment of a million shameful walks.
Dominic Hardy stood right outside my bakery, leaning against the doorframe, beautiful in his tailored black suit and shiny Italian loafers, with a scowl on his face once he looked up from his phone as if he could sense my presence.
Why did he have to appear so completely put together? I tried to ignore the tension dancing between us in the air and the urge to dart away from him. No one here was supposed to make me feel that way. Here, I was taking control of my own life. So, I steeled my spine as I walked up to him completely barefoot.
And then he smiled as he murmured, “There’s my little fighter.”
It’s like he was watching my every movement, learning me in a way most people didn’t. He’d seen my hesitation and watched me overcome it to walk to him. Still, we didn’t exchange good-morning niceties. I used my key fob to swipe us in and he jumped right into irritating me instead. “You didn’t answer my text.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sugar and Spice aren’t strays.”
“Where did you get them then?” He followed me in without an invitation.
“Outside my apartment. So, they aren’t straysnow.”
“Oh, fuck me.” He groaned. “Do you realize that you can’t—”
“I’m a big girl, Dominic.” I wouldn’t tell him that I’d just now realized they both needed to be spayed and get shots or about my mishap with the carriers.
“It’s Mr. Hardy, Ms. Milton. We’re at work.”
“Right. Great.” We needed that boundary anyway, and Dominic was great at creating them. “Anyway, I won’t be here long.” I immediately rushed to the espresso machine. Caffeine would give me life enough to get through these next ten minutes. “I already called an Uber.”
“What for? Are you not working today?” He appeared disgusted that someone would take a day off even though it was Sunday.
“I’m working. I just need to go home and change, get shoes, and—”
That’s when I saw him reach for what was on the crook of his arm. Two bags. A Christian Louboutin bag—I knew that bag. Most women knew that bag—and a freaking orange one.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“Presents.”
I narrowed my eyes, not believing it for a second. “For me?”
He held them out and then glanced at his phone when it vibrated. “Who else would it be for, cupcake?”
CLARA
“Don’t call me cupcake when I can’t even call you by your first name.” I tried to sound menacing, but it came out a whisper as I stared at the two bags he held out to me.
Then, I took a step back, and he frowned before snapping his arm out to grab my elbow and pull me forward. “Take the bags, Ms. Milton.”
Was I seriously fighting to get away from him and expensive gifts? What was wrong with me?
But then I heard chatter outside my bakery, and I panicked, ripping my arm away from him and rushing to close the door just as I saw colleagues approaching the lobby. “Shit.”
Dominic casually sat down on one of the barstools and eyed me warily, “What’s wrong now?”
I shoved him up. “What are you doing? Go to the back kitchen. They’ll see us.”
“So what if they see us?” He shrugged.
Oh my God. Didn’t he get it? I turned out the lights before grabbing the bags from him and pushing him into the back room. “I look like I got run over by a train, that’s what, Dominic. I’m wearing my dress from last night, my hair is a mess, I don’t have shoes or makeup on and—”
When we finally were through the back doors to the kitchen, he crossed his arms and looked down at me. “Check the bags.”
