Page 13 of Break Me Like a Promise (Oak Valley)

“Always,” she laughed. There were stripes of flour on her face, and he saw why when she tried to brush a stray hair away with the back of her hand. “Are you keeping me company?”

“If you don’t mind. I might’ve mentioned some rose cardamom eclairs to Olive and don’t want to leave her hanging.”

“Well now that you mention it, can’t have you leaving me hanging either! There should be a clean pan in the dishwasher, and the rosewater is in the far right pantry.” Cheri smiled before returning to her dough.

Colton exchanged his jacket for a navy apron from the hook, looping it over his neck and tying it around his waist. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell his mom about the interview. He’d told her about applying, and she almost started crying from pride — now wasn’t the time for more waterworks.

He rolled up his sleeves, his body settling into the rhythm of the kitchen. Baking had always been an escape, first as a way to spend time with his mom. But the more time he spent surrounded by flour and exotic ingredients, the more he wanted to experiment. While football worked his body, baking worked his mind. It allowed him to feel with his fingers, to make mistakes and push the boundaries of what people wanted.

What he wanted.

This was a home he’d never found anywhere else. He’d had so much taken from him, including this once before. He’d be damned if he let it happen again.

13

Ruby eyed the aisle of chisels. The more research she’d done, the more she realized how utterly unprepared she was for this conversion.

She’d had the right tools to start on the seat removal that weekend but wanted to jump into the ceiling panel removal immediately after. So long as her body would be up for it. She wasn’t unfit, but Ruby certainly wouldn’t call herself active. Plus, she enjoyed a large stuffed crust pepperoni pizza and a pint of ice cream as much as the next person. Preferably all to herself.

She let out a huff, lost in how many chisels stared back at her.

“So many options, so little time.”

Ruby froze, the deep baritone voice all too familiar.

“Don’t you have a car to fix?” It came out icier than planned. She crossed her arms and turned. Colton infiltrated every one of her senses. He towered over her, broad shoulders blocking the outside world so all she could do was travel the planes of his chest — still no winter coat — to meet his eyes. The deep brown eyes that searched hers, the crawl of dimples framing his slow smile.

“Not today, Dragan asked me to pick up some anchors. I guess June’s hanging shelves at the book store. What do you need chisels for?”

“The bus. Obviously.”

“Smart ass.” He brushed past her to grab one of the chisel sets, a wave of earth hitting her nostrils. He’d always smelled like the forest after a cold rain, with a hint of car oil lingering after. Ruby found comfort in the smell, the sheer masculinity of everything it carried.

“It’s for the ceiling panels,” she sighed. He was reading the back of two different sets, clearly not leaving anytime soon.

He frowned. “You plan on hand chiseling those rivets?

Ruby shrugged. Ceiling panels were held with rivets, which many a skoolie account said a rather expensive air compressor tool would work best on. But chiseling and popping out the rivets by hand was the most cost-effective method. She was working part-time at Maven Media from home, but the majority of her funds were going into an account for her mom’s current and upcoming medical bills. Her mom’s job at the town library — while emotionally and mentally fulfilling — didn’t offer the greatest paycheck or health insurance.

Colton placed the sets back, running a hand through his hair. Just as thick as Ruby remembered, and she tried to ignore the flush of heat that rolled through her body when his gaze pierced hers.

“I have an air chisel.”

Her body buzzed with the unsaid offer. Of course the asshat wouldn’t flat-out say she could use it.

“Good for you. I’m going to be the proud owner of a chisel set,” Ruby huffed, reaching around him to grab a set from the shelf.

He placed a hand on her arm and shook his head. “Ruby, I know you like to do things yourself. But hand-chiseling rivets above your head can be dangerous.”

“Lots of things are dangerous.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to go out of your way to be in dangerous situations.”

“Skoolie people do it all the time.”

“And how many of them accidentally hammer their hands? Fingers? Drop a panel on their heads? And then they’re out of commission.”

“So what do you suggest?”

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