Page 12 of Craving

“Who’s Harvey?”

“He’s my friend Anna’s new boyfriend.”

Camilla frowned at the brown-haired man. He had light eyes, but she couldn’t tell the color from across the room. He wore tight jeans and a loose, long tee with a bomber jacket. “He looks a bit old to be dating a teenager.”

“He’s twenty-three,” Emily said with a shrug. “But Anna’s like, really mature. And she’s going to be seventeen next month.”

Oh, hell no.

The mama bear that rose inside Camilla roared so loudly it nearly came out through her human mouth. Her eyes narrowed as the man approached. His eyes were brown, she noted. He had a nose ring. He probably thought he was hot shit for dating a sixteen-year-old. The creep. She wanted to leap over the counter and tell him to get the hell out of her bakery—and her town.

His lazy-lidded eyes slid over Emily. “Hey, Em. What happened?”

“Someone broke the window,” she said, flushing. “I texted Anna about it.”

Camilla hip-checked the teen out of the way and bared her teeth at Harvey. “We’re all sold out,” she said. “Sorry.”

He blinked at her, then at the overflowing display cases that had just been refilled with fresh goods. He let out a little huff of disbelief. “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Emily hissed.

“Sorry,” Camilla repeated, not sounding sorry at all, then swept an arm toward the door. “Have a good day.”

At the same time, Marlon happened to be stalking toward the counter. His brow was furrowed as he watched the interaction, dark gaze landing on Harvey.

The younger man reared back at Marlon’s steady gaze, then snorted. “Whatever, lady.”

When he was gone, Emily let out a noise of protest. “What the heck, Camilla!”

She turned and pointed a finger at the girl. “You stay away from him.”

Her voice must have been harsher than she realized because Emily threw her hands up in a dramatic don’t-shoot-me motion. “Okay. Fine. Jeez.”

“Tell Anna the same.”

“I can’t tell her what to do!”

Camilla pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Her nerves were fraying.

She’d met a few Harveys in her youth. When she refused to dance to her parents’ tune, she’d had to make her way in the world on her own. Her first boyfriend had been older, had told her how mature she was, had made her feel special. Then he’d convinced her to move in and manipulated her into handing over most of the money she made. She’d even given him some of the student loans she’d gotten for culinary school. She’d been trapped in that relationship for longer than she cared to admit, and that series of bad decisions had led her right to Frankie Smith's door.

It had been nearly fifteen years since she’d met her ex, and she was only just crawling out from the impact he had on her life. Emily and her friend Anna wouldn’t go through that if she could do anything about it. She made a mental note to speak to Emily when things were quieter in the store.

Men like Harvey—like her ex—were the exact reason Camilla was so careful about who she let help her. She had a romantic heart, but she’d been burned. What good was it to open yourself up to a man when he could destroy your life for years?

In a way, she was a hypocrite. Hadn’t she pushed Amelia to give Leo a chance? Didn’t she love romcoms and love stories?

But it was different for her. She only had herself at the end of the day; she had to be careful.

From the corner of her eye, Camilla saw Marlon’s hip lean against the counter. “You staying here for the day?”

She lifted her gaze to his and gave him a tight smile. “Have to,” Camilla said while Emily busied herself stocking the display case with spiced apple muffins for the third time that morning. “Can’t leave these guys here on their own.”

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up.”

Not having the time or energy to protest, she just waved Marlon off and smiled at the next customer. The morning rush lasted well into the afternoon, with all the looky-loos wanting to hear the latest Stirling gossip and bemoan the state of the world when vandals thought they could break any window they pleased.

“Stirling has gone to hell in a hand basket,” Mr. Petrovski grumbled as he waited for his cappuccino. “A small business like yours, getting smashed to bits. It’s terrible. Terrible! Like that old hag that used to live next to me. She’s another one! Don’t get me started on her! Did you hear about what she was doing? Stealing every chance she got, then tucking tail and running when her partner gets nabbed. Well! I always knew something was up with her. Always knew she was up to no good.”

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