“Fine, we’ll skip the coffee, go straight to the spooning. Although if we want any alone time, he”—Marc jerked his chin toward Wingman—“will do better if we get the r-u-n in.”
He leaned closer to whisper in her ear and felt her shiver. “He’ll sleep through just about anything after he’s had his walk and breakfast.”
“I would be sleeping through all of this if you hadn’t pounded on my door.” She yawned—wider this time. “Between mornings in the kitchen, the tasting, and prepping for the farmers’ market tomorrow, I’m beat.”
“Maybe you should hire another baker.”
“Trust me, it’s on my long list of things to do. First I have to figure out if the bakery can even afford it.” She shrugged. “Pricilla’s books are a huge mess, and I can’t make sense of anything. The numbers she sent me when I came up with the budget for the bistro are totally different from the ones I found stashed in her office. Plus, she’s been shorting her customers and canceling events for months. For all I know, I have to get the bistro open and start turning a profit before I can even afford to hire kitchen staff.”
Marc might suck at relationships, but he was incredible with numbers. It was why, even after he walked away from DeLuca Wines, he continued to handle all of the family’s books. If he could help smooth Lexi’s transition from chef to restaurateur, then he was game. The extra time they’d spend together, alone, had absolutely nothing to do with his desire to help.
“I can take a look at them if you want. See what’s going on and get a feel for where the bakery really is. I can also help you figure out a system that works for you. Maybe come up with a realistic plan.”
She blinked up at him, and something warm and unfamiliar slid through his body. She was looking at him like he had just made her day, hell, her world. He was used to hormones and chemistry and raw sexual heat with women. But this was something altogether different, and suddenly this seemed like a really bad idea.
“I mean, if you don’t want me to, I understand,” he backpedaled.
“No. That would be great.” She blushed, actually blushed, and he felt like a freaking hero.
Shit. Marc took a step back, pulling the leash as he went. “Well, we didn’t mean to wake you.”
Lexi rested her hand on the door, looking ready to give another excuse to turn down his offer, one that he would happily accept, when Wingman went to work. He waddled over and dropped himself on Lexi’s foot, his tail slapping her shin. He looked up at her with those big brown eyes and panted a little harder for added effect.
Everything in Marc stilled. He could tell by the way Lexi ruffled Wingman behind the ears that she was going to give in and he would get that walk through the park. And when it was over he’d be in deep shit, because Marc finally understood why Gabe would blow off a day of beer and football to go for a walk in the park with his wife.
“I guess fresh air would help me focus. Wake me up. Plus, I had four éclairs this morning.” She smiled, but Marc couldn’t smile back. He was too busy holding his breath. “To be clear, though, I don’t walk, I don’t dally, and I don’t like talking while pounding the pavement. If we are doing this, it’s a flat-out run—”
On cue, Wingman lost it. He started barking and jumped right for Lexi, yanking the leash out of Marc’s hand. He was pretty sure the dog was going to take Lexi down and made a move to grab for her when she held out her palms and simply said, “Sit.”
And wouldn’t you know it, the damn dog sat. Completely still, except for the quivering tip of his tail, he stared at his new mistress, awaiting her next command.
But the command that came out was directed at Marc. “Five miles. No coffee, and you have to help me cart all of my stuff over to the tasting on Wednesday night.”
And like any obedient mutt, Marc agreed. Both he and Wingman watched in awe as Lexi made her way up the stairs, that perfect ass swaying saucily with every step she took.
“Give me five,” Marc said to Wingman after Lexi disappeared around the corner. Wingman sat back on his haunches