Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,25
it like most people, but I doubt it. Hank’s always been immune to my brooding and intimidation.
The two of us are unlikely friends. Ever since we met at Harvard, we’ve been polar opposites, yet connected in a way I could never explain. It’s been a long time since we spent late nights talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. Years have passed since we both dropped out and went our separate ways, but he’s always been a great friend… one of the best.
So, I’ll give him this one. I’ll go to the fucking church picnic. But for now, I’m going to go for a run, because if I don’t burn off some of this excess energy, I might go crazy, and tomorrow, I’m ordering a bag and seeing what I can make out of this place.
Maybe it’ll just be for me.
Maybe it’ll turn into something more.
I’m not sure, but I do know that for the first time in a few months, I feel like purpose is just around the corner. And I need that. Beyond the fight and the challenge of the ring, it’s waking up with purpose every day that I miss the most.
This morning’s run takes me down the sidewalk that runs in front of the building I’m living in, out of downtown Green Valley, past older, well-kept houses, and finally to the highway that leads to the Pink Pony. When I reach the gravel parking lot of the club, I turn around and head back.
I love the way my legs strain as I make the climb up a few hills.
I love the way my lungs burn as I push a little harder on my way back.
I love the way my mind clears, with my only thoughts being focused on my next breath, my next step.
Once the familiar buildings of downtown come into view, I slow my pace and begin my cool down. Wanting a change of scenery, I cross the street and continue my way up the opposite sidewalk. When I see several people coming in and out of one of the buildings, I slow my pace to a walk.
As I get closer, I notice a sign that read’s Donner Bakery — Home of the Banana Cake. One lady carrying a box seems a little startled when she sees me, but quickly smiles and offers a polite hello.
“Good morning,” I say, returning her smile.
“Best muffins in a hundred mile radius,” she says, nodding behind her to the storefront. “I recommend the Folsom Prison Blues.”
Folsom Prison... what?
Instead of asking questions, I just say, “Thanks.”
I had plans of drinking a smoothie this morning, but now that I’m within smelling distance and caught a whiff of the lady’s purchase, my mouth is now watering for carbs. A good run deserves to be rewarded with carbs—that’s always been my philosophy.
One of the reasons I love working out so hard is because I can eat anything I want and never have to worry about packing on pounds.
Holding the door for another lady walking out with what looks like a bag full of deliciousness, hints of cinnamon and sugar and baked bread bowl me over.
“Welcome to the Donner Bakery,” a cheerful voice calls out. “Picking up an order?”
Glancing up and down the glass case, I get lost in the selections. “No, no order… but I am hungry.”
“Another batch of Ring of Fires,” a familiar voice says, making my head snap up and my dick twitch.
Tempest Cassidy.
Her gorgeous red hair is pulled back in a ponytail, showing off the long lines of her neck, and I swallow, licking my bottom lip. Maybe I’ll take her… if she were on the menu.
Which she is not.
Get your mind out of the gutter.
When she notices me, she stops and tilts her head, like she’s examining me, and I realize that she’s having trouble placing me, which is crazy. Usually, people meet me once and never forget. I’m not being cocky. It’s just the truth. My dad is full-blooded Scandinavian and he passed on his pale blue eyes and blond hair, as well as a very defined jawline.
In the UFC, I was known as The Fighting Viking.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her eyes still scanning my face, but I don’t miss the way they fall to my chest, which I’m sure is covered in sweat. I just ran at least six miles.
“Uh,” I start, trying to get my bearings and not make a complete fool of myself. “I heard the Folsom Prison Blues is—”