see Dean standing in the alley, looking all…Dean-like.
“What are you doing back here?” I ask, my voice still breathy with adrenaline as I take in his appearance more fully.
He smirks and props himself along the rustic brick wall, looking like a damn J. Crew model. Dean’s one of those annoying fashionable guys who manage to make the metro-style look masculine. His glossy chocolate-brown hair and perfectly trimmed beard are always flawless. He usually comes into the bakery wearing crazy tight slacks and slick blazers with a unique dress shirt underneath. But today, he’s sporting a more casual look of designer (and super-tight) jeans cuffed over expensive-looking leather boots, and a fitted button-down without a single wrinkle. He looks hot.
Damn him.
He gestures toward the bakery with a sheepish look on his face. “You looked like you were getting ready to assault a senior citizen back there.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I don’t usually make a habit of kicking asses of women with gray hair, but I could probably handle this ‘perfect teeth guy.’”
I roll my eyes and attempt to straighten my hair because I must look like a lunatic compared to his perfectly put-together self. “That was my mother making my life miserable. It’s kind of her specialty.”
Dean winces behind his dark-framed glasses. “I have one of those mothers myself. They can be a pain sometimes.”
“To say the least,” I murmur under my breath.
Dean crosses his arms over his broad chest and narrows his cocoa eyes at me. “I’m a great listener if you want to talk about it. I don’t know if that’s something Luke Danes would do for Lorelai Gilmore, but it’s something Dean Moser does with his friends quite regularly.”
I huff out a laugh as I stare back at him, waiting for the punchline—but I see he’s serious right now, which is…surprising. “Are we close enough to commiserate about family drama?”
He tilts his head and squints his eyes at the bright sunlight overhead. “I’d say we’ve been on the friend track for a while now, so I vote yes.”
I shake my head at that notion. Dean has been coming into my bakery for years with his computer and Clark Kent glasses to do whatever the hell he does on that laptop of his. Our interactions had been pretty surface level until my franchise developer, Max, officially introduced us sometime last year. Max told me his good friend Dean was a stock market savant with a new hedge fund company, and he was looking to diversify his wealth. And because I was looking for a financial backer to help start my second bakery in Denver, Dean was the perfect person for me to get to know better.
Now, Dean Moser is officially a silent investor in Rise and Shine Bakery-Denver. And ever since we signed on the dotted line, Dean’s been happily chatting my ear off at the bakery nearly every single week. His flirting is far from silent, but I’ve watched Dean in the bakery enough to know that’s just how he communicates with his friends. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say he was easy on the eyes and our exchanges every week gave a little extra pep to my step.
Regardless of our growing friendship, business relationship, or innocent flirting, Dean’s investment is crucial. Max says once we get my second location off the ground, I’ll have the cash flow to launch my franchise plan and go national and possibly, international—a pipe dream goal.
Goals. I have goals. Goals my mother cannot seem to understand. “Friends or not, you don’t need to hear about my problems, Dean.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
My brows lift. “But you’re an investor in my franchise.”
“Silent investor,” Dean corrects.
“Still an investor. It would be unprofessional to talk about this.”
“Come on, Norah,” Dean groans and runs a hand through his hair. “You were on my party bus last year and watched me chug an IPA beer and give Kate a Magic Mike lap dance. I’d say our professional boundaries are irrelevant at this point.”
“Who gets a party bus when you turn thirty, by the way?” I reply with a laugh. Seriously, I turned thirty and let myself binge Netflix for the day like a winner. When Max dragged me onto that bus to get to know Dean, I was beginning to have serious doubts about who I was thinking about going into business with.
Dean shoots me a dirty smile. “Boys who never want to grow up.”
I exhale