Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
The truth is, I’m not supposed to work at all. But a bunch of mindless hands-on activity is just what I need to alleviate some of my anxiety, and Lydia and Lou could definitely stand to have the night off. I’m sure as soon as I get there and offer, they’ll jump at the chance to have a little time to themselves.
“What? Oh geez. That sucks,” Ty says with a frown and then smiles when he gets an idea. “I know! I’ll come with you.”
I shake my head before he even finishes talking, and I ignore the weight of Remy’s eyes as they watch me.
And boy, are they fucking heavy.
“No, that’s okay. In fact, you should stay. Hang out with your family a little more. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? At least let me come down and get you a cab.”
“No,” I refuse, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Ty’s cheek, even with the audience, even with the turmoil. At the end of the day, Ty hasn’t done anything wrong, and I don’t want him to think he has. When I back away, I pull from the dark depths of my being in order to give him a real, genuine smile. “That’s okay, really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ty nods then as I turn to Remy and offer him a hand. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for welcoming me during such a special family experience.”
Remy holds my hand a little too long for my comfort, but his smile is gracious as he finally lets it go. His meaning when he speaks, though—well, it’s doing double duty.
“Anytime, Rachel. Anytime.”
Anytime. Welcome to come around, welcome to use the card.
The Winslows are a friendly bunch, and I’m thankful for their welcome. But spending time with his family isn’t taking me in the direction of no trouble—it’s taking me to the direct opposite.
Come around or use the card? Rachel Rose is smart enough that she won’t be doing either.
Ty
Now that I’m standing here, outside of the mostly dark bakery, I’m starting to question if it was a good idea to show up unannounced.
Not because I don’t think it’s the right thing to do—I know it is by the strange way Rachel was acting as she left the hospital this afternoon—but because I don’t have a lot of experience being a woman alone, and yet, I have to imagine closing up at night by yourself only to be startled by someone standing outside would be terrifying.
Luckily, the lights in the cases are still on and the door’s unlocked, so I pull it open and peek my head in, hoping to give her ample warning before she can get scared.
“Rachel? It’s, uh…it’s Ty. Is it okay if I come in?”
There’s a bang in the back and a couple of mumbled curses and then a change in the light, shining through the cracks in the door that leads to the back.
Wide-eyed, flour-covered, and as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her, Rachel pushes through the swinging door from the kitchen and looks at me from head to toe without saying a word.
My mouth curves into a smile, feeling good about the surprise again now that I know I haven’t scared her, and I step past the threshold and let the door fall closed behind me. I point back to it. “Do you want me to lock this?”
She nods, and my smile grows deeper.
“Are you regretting not having locked it sooner?”
That puts a crack in the resounding shock and emotional vagueness of her shell, and her face melts into a familiar grin. “I guess you could say I wasn’t thinking about how just anybody could walk in.” It’s an innocent-enough statement if you don’t know Rachel Rose like I’ve grown to. She’s giving me shit, plain and simple.
I chuckle, and she comes forward more, rounding the counter and stopping just in front of it with a towel in her hands. The bakery cat I know as Matilda follows her, prancing all the way around the counter until she’s tracing my legs with warm purrs.
“What are you doing here, Ty?”
Truthfully, there’s a whole explanation I could go into about the way we left it at the hospital and how I wasn’t comfortable not making sure she’s okay, but I don’t think that would set us off on the right foot.
And there’s an equally truthful, much simpler answer too. I go with the latter. “I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see me?” she asks, and I don’t miss the hint of hope in her voice. As if that reality would make her happy versus upset.
Which only makes me more certain that coming here was the right thing to do.
“Doll, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I always want to see you.”
Rachel’s face melts into total contentment, and before I know it, she’s walking straight through the collection of tables and right into my arms. I lift her up, her feet coming off the floor as she wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I bury my face into her throat. Matilda scatters, and I officially lose track of her for the night. My attention, it seems, is elsewhere.