Sporting (Unleashed Romance #3) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,12

It was an accident. Now it gets fixed and I move on.”

She studies me for a moment before taking the pen and signing the paper.

I pocket her check. Part of me would like to walk out this door with my manly pride intact, and part of me wants nothing more than to soak her in. Decisions, decisions…

“You grew up into a good guy,” she says.

I can stay a little longer. “Have to set the example when you wear the badge.”

“It’s more than that.” She smiles and leans across the table. “You used to be so naughty.”

I give her my sexiest smile and lower my voice to a husky tone. “I can be naughty when the occasion calls for it.”

She blushes and straightens, rubbing the side of her neck. “I bet.” She meets my eyes with a smile. “You’re a flirt.”

“Guilty.”

Her lips curve up as she folds the signed paper, tucking it into her apron pocket.

Remind me again why we’re just friends? She said it wasn’t personal. Something about things not working out and potential awkwardness. So does that mean she never dates anyone in town in case she has to see them around? It’s not like a lot of single guys come through here. What is her deal?

I glance around. Not the time or place to push her. Nice and friendly, let her get comfortable with you. “How’s your bakery doing?”

She smiles brightly, her green eyes lighting up. “It’s going well. I have regular customers.” She stops smiling. “Oh. I see. You’re wondering why I gave you such a small amount as payment, aren’t you?”

“No, I figure you paid what you could. Don’t worry about it.”

She gestures toward the back of the shop. “I put everything I had into renovations and baking equipment last year. Rainbow hadn’t updated the place since the sixties. It needed a lot of work. I also renovated the kitchen and bathroom upstairs in my apartment at the same time. So that was my savings; plus I borrowed some money. And now I have a mortgage and debt for the first time, which I’m not complaining about. This is my dream come true. I just don’t have money for extras like a car accident.”

I rub a hand over my clean-shaven jaw, considering letting her off the hook completely. There’s that soft spot again. “Got it.”

“Let me get you something on the house. You’ve never had one of my treats.” She gestures to the glass case displaying cupcakes, brownies, bar treats, and cookies.

“I don’t eat sugar.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “Never? Not even on your birthday or Christmas? This is a momentous occasion—Eli Robinson visited my shop. In fact, I’ll put up a plaque so visitors know. Why, I bet business increases twofold!”

“Smartass. I wouldn’t mind a bottled water.”

She rolls her eyes and walks toward the counter. I follow her over, my gaze falling on the sweet curve of her ass.

She glances over her shoulder, catching me looking. I jerk my head up. Busted.

Her voice sounds breathy. “Why don’t you come back here with me, and we’ll share a small plate of something. I really should be behind the counter in case someone comes in.”

Nothing could keep me away.

She slices a salted caramel brownie in half and puts half on a small white plate for me, gesturing toward the stool next to the counter.

“You can have the stool,” I say. “I don’t mind standing.”

She grabs a bottled water and napkin for me, handing them over before taking the seat. “Eat.”

I take a bite into fudgy decadence, my eyes widening. “This is the best brownie I’ve ever had.”

She preens, tossing her hair back. “It’s my bestseller.” She takes a bite of her brownie. “Now you’re officially Team Jenna.”

I’m saved from admitting I’ve always been Team Jenna by the bell jingling over the front door.

Joan Ellis walks in, the grandmother who raised Harper, one of Sydney’s best friends. Harper called her General Joan behind her back because she barked out orders military style. I know Mrs. Ellis because she was a third-grade teacher at my elementary school. I never had her, but my friends who did complained endlessly about their homework load. She’s got to be in her eighties by now. Her hair is white and short, her brown eyes sharp. She dresses as though she’s still going to work every day. Today she has a white scarf tied around her neck, a peach-colored blouse, and black pants. Her black shoes are thick soled, her only concession to her bad