Sky was a fuming, trembling mess. Her shoes pinched her feet and scraped the back of her heel. The wind was doing its best to turn her into Marilyn Munroe. She scrambled to keep her skirt pinned to her knees where it belonged.
Sweet Treats appeared in the distance.
She hastened her footsteps and turned the corner to access the side door. Puncturing the lock with her key, she twisted the door ajar and stormed inside like a warrior out for vengeance.
Except, there was no one there.
As it should be.
Her eyes gravitated to the spot where Joon Gi had stood only a few minutes ago. Silky black hair glistening from the shower. Brown eyes that had always—always—pierced her soul, shimmering with guilt. Broad shoulders. Lean waist. Long legs.
He’d looked so at home, so comfortable and familiar, that—for a second—Sky had wondered if she’d accidentally stepped into the wrong building.
Maybe she’d gotten her keys mixed up with Joon’s and she was really infringing on him.
Idiot.
Dipping her chin, Sky looked down at the water drops that still lingered on the ground. Her gaze moved to the tables and chairs nestled in the corner and back to the bathrooms.
How had Joon Gi lived in the bakery for so long? She didn’t have a bed or even a bench that he could stretch out on.
Did he sleep on the floor?
Her heart clenched.
Again.
The emotions rushing through her made no sense. Sympathy and anger. Pity and annoyance. Her heart and her head were at war. She was the victim of her own sensibilities. Had fallen prey to that dangerous desire to help, one that demanded she put herself out even to her own detriment.
Her mom used to call that excessive kindness a superpower.
Sky called it a curse.
The only people who thought of her cloyingly sweet nature as anything else were benefitting from her lack of spine.
Her mom knew it.
She knew it.
The entire nation of Belize probably knew it.
Her phone buzzed.
Sky debated ignoring it, but checked out the message just in case it was Phillip or Jo.
It was neither.
HANNA: Hey, let me know your decision as soon as possible.
Sky huffed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb. She was exhausted. There really should be a rulebook on dealing with rejection. Then again, there probably was and she wouldn’t be able to live by those rules—not if it hurt someone else.
And Hanna—for all her poise, money and elegance—would be hurt if Sky didn’t give her what she wanted.
Sweet Treats.
Hanna’s proposal at the restaurant was just a thinly veiled grab at her bakery. Sky was softhearted not stupid. It had probably been Hanna’s intention all along—to approach her as a friend and then sink her claws into the café.
C.E.O. of a franchise? Hanna could sell dreams. Sky would give her that.
Too bad, she wasn’t that ambitious. Sweet Treats was like a precious flower planted by her mother. Now that Mom was gone, it was Sky’s responsibility to water and nurture that plant so it bloomed.
Yanking it out by the roots just to make a few extra bucks would dishonor her mother’s memory. Would spit in the face of all she’d meant to Sky.
Handing Sweet Treats over to Hanna, as much as Sky liked and respected her, wasn’t an option.
But she’d never be able to say no in person.
And then Hanna will be just one more person who steamrolled me.
The first step in conquering any weakness was being aware of one’s limitations. Saying the word ‘no’ gave her anxiety. Which meant she didn’t have the courage to turn Hanna down, especially if she kept pestering.
Sky pulled her phone out again and stared resignedly at the message.
Do something!
The bakery meant too much to her. She couldn’t allow herself to be pressured into selling, which was something she knew Hanna was capable of if they kept meeting face-to-face.
It was time to put an end to this in the most comfortable way possible.
Through text.
SKY: Sorry, Hanna. I won’t sell.
After sending the message, Sky wandered to the kitchen where she nabbed the spices she’d originally came for. Her heart thundered in her chest as she imagined Hanna receiving the message.
Her beautiful, lily-white skin was probably reddening.
Her mouth would twist in annoyance.
Would she think Sky was rude? Or unbending? Or stubborn?
Are those bad things? It’s time you stood up for something.
Another ping.
Hannah had responded.
HANNA: Can we talk in person?
No, they could not.
That in-person conversation was exactly what Sky was trying to avoid. She could never look someone in the eye and flatly reject them. Watch the hope and joy seep out of their expression. Live with the guilt of ruining their day.
Absolutely not.
SKY: I don’t think that’s possible. Sorry.
She waited a beat and then sent another message.
SKY: But I appreciated brunch and getting to know you. Enjoy the rest of your day.
Satisfied that she’d ended the refusal on as best a note as she could muster, Sky returned to her house in thoughtful silence.
The moment she opened the door, she heard the mixer whirring. Concerned, she darted into the kitchen and found Joon Gi standing behind the counter. The muscles in his arm rippled as he clung to the mixer for dear life. Flour sputtered from the bowl and coated his face and chin.
Sky’s annoyance with him quickly gave way to amusement.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
Joon Gi clicked the mixer off and set it calmly on the counter. His movements were lithe and fluid, a complete contrast to the mess on his shirt. “I saw the waffle recipe on the counter and the ingredients you’d capped off. Figured this was lunch.”
“It was breakfast.” She swung her purse over her head.
“Was?” His cheeks pinched. “You ate already?”
“Yeah.” Sky trotted toward him. “I was going to make something else for dinner.”
“Oh.” He scratched his temple. Pink lips parted. Snapped closed a moment later.
Sky noticed that his hair had dried in clumps that fanned out over his broad forehead. Joon Gi noticed her perusal. His slender fingers dug through the strands, separating them in one smooth motion so they fell in a more uniform style.
She cleared her throat and eyed the massive spread of broken eggshells and sugar that was skittered over the counter top. “You don’t cook often, do you?”
“Ramen is the extent of my culinary abilities.” He spread his hands wide and shrugged. “But I felt bad for sneaking into the store, so I wanted to do something to make up for it. Even if it wasn’t much.”
Her heart warmed.
Are you seriously going to fall for that?
More than likely.
A little smile—one Sky couldn’t hide or suppress—nudged her lips. “I’ll give you E for effort.”
“It’s better than an F.”
“Not by much,” she countered.
“True.” He dragged his finger across his bottom lip, black eyes sober and thoughtful.
Her gaze followed the path his thumb made. Her stupid heart bounced all over her chest, a blood-pumping pinball gone crazy. The incessant thump-thump-thump rivaled the frantic soca song that had been playing Harold’s Bar when Vince demanded she sleep with him.
I’m losing my mind.
The fact that she found her employee attractive was worthy of some sort of punishment. Considering that she’d opened her house to said employee, her growing feelings were completely inappropriate.
Sky had a moment of intense self-reflection.
She would have done the same if she’d found any other hunky Asian guy stowed away in her store, right?
This wasn’t just because it was Joon.
Frightened by the prospect that her feelings had played into her decision, Sky cleared her throat and diverted her attention to the spices in her arms. “Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m good.”
His stomach growled, wildly protesting his dishonesty.
Joon Gi looked up, panic stamped across his face. “I can take care of my own meals.”
“It’s okay.” Sky set the spices on the counter. “I love cooking. It’s sad making an elaborate meal for one so I haven’t tried all the recipes I’ve wanted to. In exchange for room and board,” she wiggled her finger at him, “you can be my guinea pig.”
“Deal.” Joon grabbed the washcloth from the sink. “I should probably clean up here.”
Sky nodded and headed to the cupboard to find a new set of ingredients.
“Aren’t you going to change?” Joon’s voice resounded behind her.
She froze and glanced down at her outfit. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
“Did you go somewhere this morning?” He propped his hips on the counter and studied her, looking more at home in her kitchen than he had any right to be. “Church? A date?”
“Neither of the above. And were you always this nosy?”
“Not any more than you.”
“If you’re referring to my questions about your tattoo, I don’t regret it. I stand by the fact that you’ll tell me eventually.”
“Right.” He laughed.
Her heart did that little flip thing again.
Sky swallowed hard as her senses begged for retreat. “I’ll go change. Can you turn on the oven for me?”
While Joon was occupied, she scrambled down the hall and locked her bedroom door behind her. Flinging herself against it, she breathed hard through her nose and struggled to return to the composed and pulled-together Sky that she was before Joon Gi appeared in her life.
Pointing a finger inward, she scolded, “Listen here you, son of a gun. This isn’t going to happen. You pull yourself together right now or I swear I’m eating fried chicken and Twinkies for a year so you have it hard just pumping an ounce of blood. You got it?”
The stubborn organ didn’t so much as respond.
Sky changed out of her fancy outfit and pulled on a plain white tank top and a pair of shorts. Her hand automatically went for the clasp of her bra when she realized that she wasn’t living alone anymore.
Sighing in disappointment, she unclasped her hair from the tight bun instead and let her arm drop to her sides. At least her scalp could breathe. Even if her chest couldn’t.
When Sky returned to the kitchen, Joon was nowhere in sight. She pretended that she wasn’t slightly saddened by his absence and got to work on the raw chicken she’d taken out to thaw early this morning.
The chicken water sloshed over the edge of the bowl, and she stared longingly at the apron she’d draped neatly over the hook by the door.
I should have put that on before I started cooking.
At that moment, Joon Gi walked in. Her eyes lit up and she jutted her chin toward the fluffy pink apron near him. “Could you get that for me?”
“What? This?” He arched an eyebrow as he brushed his hand down the fabric.
“Yeah.”
Joon Gi easily plucked the apron from the hook and trotted toward her. Sky’s gaze darted around the kitchen as she searched for something to wipe her raw chicken hands on so she could tie her apron.
Before she could decide on a solution, Joon Gi’s arm brushed against hers. Every nerve in her body fired off on all cylinders. She gasped. “What are you—?”
“Hold still.” Joon Gi’s voice rumbled over her. His breath teased the hair at the back of her neck until they stood to attention. In smooth, fluid movements, he settled the apron over her head and gently brushed her curls back so they weren’t caught in it.
Every sensation heightened. His fingertips on her brown skin. His breath on her neck. The charge of electricity between their bodies.
Sky moved to turn around, but Joon nudged her back the other way and tied the strings snugly.
When he was done, he stepped back. “You good?”
Good?
Sky reached out and quickly held onto the counter so her knees didn’t give out. Her heart thundered in her ears.
Oy.
This couldn’t end well.