Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Rejected men are the worst. They do an about-face fast enough to cause whiplash. One minute, you're a goddess. The next, they were just doing you a favor because no one would ever possibly date someone your size. Ugh.
Noah is a refreshing change from the norm. Despite my rejecting him, he hasn't gotten nasty or passive-aggressive. He hasn't been rude. No matter what I say, he just comes back for more. Every word he says is more outrageous than the last. I've met charming men before. They're everywhere around here. But I'm in serious danger of softening toward this one.
I'll worry about that later.
"She taught you how to cook?"
"No," I murmur sadly, a lump forming in my throat. "She died before she got the chance, but I have all of her recipes. One day, this place will be half bakery, half coffee shop, using her recipes." I bite my lip as soon as I say the words. Crap. I shouldn't have told him that. If he's lying about telling Nash that he isn't going to spy for him, then my brother is going to know that I'm up to something. He'll be on my doorstep, demanding I move back home and driving me crazy.
"She ran a bakery?"
"Her and my dad ran two of them."
"I'm sorry you lost them so young," he says quietly, his voice sincere. "I'm damn glad the accident didn't take you too."
I look at him in genuine surprise. "Nash told you?"
He nods. "Always knew he had a sister, but I didn't realize he raised you."
"Yeah. He took custody of me after the accident so I didn't end up in foster care." He was barely out of college and was expected to go straight to the NHL. He ended up skipping the draft that year. Everything was so fresh and raw. I don't think he had the energy to expend in caring for me and tackling a professional career simultaneously.
I was in the hospital for a while. I broke my leg in three places, broke my arm, three ribs, and my collarbone. Nash was by my side through all of it, sacrificing everything to be there for me. By the time I healed enough for him to refocus on hockey, he couldn't find a team willing to sign him. It took him another two years before he finally went into the AHL on a two-way contract, with no guarantee that he'd ever see ice time in the NHL. I felt so guilty that he gave up his one shot, but he never complained.
When he was called up to the Capitals not long after joining the Yellowjackets, I felt better because he was meant to play hockey professionally. I guess it's part of the reason I'm so adamant about living on my own. He's sacrificed enough for me already. It's beyond time for him to have a life of his own.
"He's a good man."
"He is," I agree without hesitation. Nash may drive me insane, but he's the best brother. I know he's only overprotective because he worries. He almost lost me once. He never wants to go through that again, so he does everything he can to ensure it never happens. I just wish he'd worry a little less about me and more about himself. I love it right here in Silver Spoon Falls in my tiny little house. It's time for Nash to worry about Nash.
"You going to let me watch you make these if I come by in the morning?" Noah asks, changing subjects. He holds up a scone to illustrate what he means.
"You want to watch me bake?" I eye him critically.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because I start at four in the morning?"
He blinks. "You're shitting me."
"Nope."
"How the fuck do you even function at four in the morning?"
I purse my lips and widen my eyes, looking around the shop.
"Point taken, smartass," he chuckles. "I'll be here." His gaze runs down my body. "Especially if I get to see you in a sexy little apron."
I try to ignore the heated look and his teasing comment. Calm down, ovaries. He probably flirts with everyone like this.
If I keep telling myself the same thing, maybe it'll sink in, and my heart won't turn flips every time he says something flirty to me. He looks like a Greek God, for crying out loud. I highly doubt the thought of me in an apron excites him.
I don't lack confidence, but I'm not delusional, either. Men who look like him date supermodels, not plus-size baristas with zero dating history and overprotective older brothers. That's simply the way the world works.
"What kind of favor do you owe my brother?" I ask after he demolishes the last two scones on the plate. He eats like my brother…which is to say like a bottomless pit. It happens when you spend half of every day working out or skating.