Page 66 of Rough and Rugged
Anger I’m surprised by bubbles up inside me. Did he do something? No, no, he has done nothing wrong. He has also never given me the spark of hope I just purposely doused. Becker is kind, he is patient, but he has shown no interest in me beyond the bread I bake him.
This is all on me—I let myself think something could happen when I knew it never could.
Smiling brighter, big, and empty, I shake my head. “No. No, you have done nothing wrong. I’m fine. I will see you next time, Becker,” I dismiss him before I turn back to the to-go orders, ignoring his presence until he sighs and leaves. As the door closes after him with a melodic chime, I sigh.
Grabbing a chocolate ganache cupcake, I decide to drown my sorrows in sweets.
Chapter Two
Becker
Morningismyfavoritetime of the day.
As the sun rises, as the critters in the woods wake up, with the cool temps up on the mountain, I am at peace. Lately, that peace has changed. It has become charged with excitement. Twittering in my chest and in my gut as I rush from my place on the mountain to town. I cannot start my day without a visit to the new bakery in town.
Well, not until I see the beautiful baker, Bria.
Grinning as I speed down the mountain, heart thundering, I pause long enough to fix my beard and make sure my hair isn’t too wild. The first time I saw her, I was a damn mess. I was filthy from busting my ass felling trees, frustrated because it was hot as hell out, and craving something sweet.
The moment I laid eyes on Bria, I wanted her sweetness for myself.
“That girl does not want you,” an evil voice in my head snarks.
“Doesn’t matter if she does, I need to see her,” I growl out loud.
Glaring at the rearview mirror, I let out a string of obscenities. I’m not my biggest fan. There is little I like about myself. I’m a hard worker, sure, but mostly because if I’m not working, I’m an irritated loner. If I’m alone with my thoughts, with myself, all I do is tear myself down.
It’s a habit I picked up from my mother. It was my fault my father left us. My fault she couldn’t keep a man, couldn’t keep a job, pay the bills, or stay sober. I heard it so often it was hard not to believe it. I was a worthless loser, someone no one could ever love, a man no one could ever want.
The moment I could, I left her and those snarling voices behind. Well, most of them. That mean asshole in my head, the one that tells me if I’m screwing something up on the landing or thinking I can make friends with the crew there, he stuck with me. During my time in the army and my years working on oil rigs, it was always there to keep me company.
“Shut it up,” I whisper softly, knowing that voice is my self-confidence or lack thereof, not some nutso voice in my head.
Whenever I’m at the shop with Bria, the roar goes quiet. I can think clearly. I can think about how she makes me feel, how pretty she is with flour on her nose or chocolate on her cheek. The woman smells like fresh bread and sugar, and it makes me crave her all the time.
Pulling up outside her shop, I take a deep breath. It’s Monday morning, so she will bake fruity treats after shopping at the farmer’s market. I know her menu as well as she does. Unless she mixes it up for fun, which I love. I tell her I come for her bread, but it’s a lie. Idolove her baked goods, but it’s the woman baking them I’m head over heels for.
“Get your bread and go. No need to tell her how you miss her or how you go to bed at night thinking about her. How you want to sweep her off her cute feet, hide her away at the cabin, and fill her with your babies.”
Yeah, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Telling her how seeing her round with my baby would put me on my knees. Ican’ttell her that.
“Morning, handsome,” Mackenzie’s voice, similar but rougher than her sister’s, sails past me. “Your girl made your favorite sourdough.”
Flushing because she loves to tease me about my little crush, I nod at her as she jogs across the street. I make sure she gets inside the police station where she’s a dispatcher—her sister would want me to make sure Mack is safe—before I lumber out of my rusty, dusty old truck.
Once again, I hesitate. My blood pumps faster in my veins, my heart thundering like a felled tree. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. It fills my lungs not with the spring air, but with her baking. Chocolate and raspberries fill the air and that sweet scent, the one that is all her.
Grinning, I head inside, excited to see her. I stayed away all weekend, hiding away in the cabin. It was all I ever did before, but now that I found her, I make my way to town as often as I can. I’m here earlier than I ought to be, but she never minds. Stepping inside, I hear the jingle of the bell hanging atop the door, the little chime a welcome sound now.
“Morning darlin’,” I call before I even see her, my usual greeting.
There she is. With a soft pink apron tied around her wide waist, Bria is a vision of sweetness. Her round hips and thick thighs make my dick jerk in need. I want to bury myself inside her softness. Adjusting myself so it’s not obscene, I cross towards the counter, my boots loud on the tiles.
Turning, she beams up at me, something different sparkling in her pretty green eyes. If you ask me, the air between us is always hotter than the ovens in her kitchen. When she smiles at me or turns those stunning eyes on me, all I want to do is take her to the ground and get inside her. I want to mark her soft body as mine, so the world sees she belongs to me.
As I’m about to come up with something better than my usual banter, her green eyes change. They go from pleased to sad. She might as well have sliced a knife right through me. The air shifts from hot to cold. I open my mouth to ask what could be wrong, but she’s gone.
“Bria? What is wrong, darlin’?” I call after her as she storms off.