Sweet Escape (Sugar Rush #2) Page 5

  Just like she’d been unable to do anything about Andrew.

  Coward, the guilt fairy hissed.

  Oh, be quiet.

  Hannah deflected the accusation. She was trying to correct her mistakes by staying in Rainsville for so many months to help her sister. She’d promised Polly she would run Wild Child while Polly finished her pastry-making course and internship.

  Once that was over, Hannah’s promise would be fulfilled and she could get back to her real life. Which was definitely not in a small farming town in inland California.

  And it definitely didn’t involve a man like Evan Stone, whose whole life was rooted so close by. If Polly was hopeful about something happening between Hannah and Evan, then best to squash those hopes right away.

  “The whole auction thing was ridiculous,” she said, keeping her tone light. “But we’ve worked it out. I just didn’t want you to think anything was going on. He’s cute and all, but since I’m leaving first chance I get, it would also be weird.”

  “What do you mean you’re leaving first chance you get?”

  Hannah’s hackles rose at the faint disapproval in Polly’s voice. She’d heard that tone countless times before when she’d left Rainsville, and it never failed to irk her. Just because Polly was a homebody didn’t mean everyone else had to be.

  “I have another job too,” Hannah reminded her. “If I don’t keep my blog updated regularly, I’ll lose both readers and income.”

  “I know. But do you have to leave already?”

  Hannah sighed. Have to was very different from want to, but she knew what would happen if she did leave. Even though Wild Child would be fine under Ramona’s and Sophie’s care, if Hannah left Polly would come back because Polly was all about home, traditions, commitment, and doing right by their mother’s legacy. And once again, she would be disappointed in Hannah’s lack of ability to just stay and be loyal, even for a few months.

  Hannah would be disappointed in herself too. She just wished Polly trusted her more. She wished she trusted herself more.

  “I might have to take a short trip or two,” she admitted, but she bit back the urge to tell Polly about the Franklin Publishing editor’s interest in turning Lock Heart into a book. Though she was cautiously excited about it, there was no offer on the table. And if nothing came of it in the end, she’d have to tell Polly that she’d failed.

  “But Wild Child is doing fine,” she hastened to assure her sister. “More than fine. It practically runs itself. All I do is put out pastries, refill coffee, and take care of ordering and payroll. Now that we have Sophie working with the specialty cakes and Ramona’s help at the counter, I’m barely needed.”

  “That’s not true,” Polly said. “Wild Child belongs to us. You’re always needed when something belongs to you. I appreciate everything you’re doing, Hannah. More than I can say.”

  “I know.”

  And helping her sister now was the least Hannah could do, especially after not being there for so long.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you I’ve been experimenting with that pumpkin spice cake I mentioned last week,” she said, needing Polly to know she was committed to her stint at Wild Child and wanted to contribute. “It’s not at all sweet, but it has a nice, rich nutmeg flavor.”

  “That sounds delicious. It would be great to offer some less sugary pastries.”

  “I’ll put out some samples and find out what people think.”

  After they talked for a few more minutes, Hannah ended the call and finished getting ready for work. She walked down the narrow staircase to the Wild Child Bakery. The two bakers were already busy getting muffins and croissants into the oven, and Hannah started prepping the front counter.

  As the clock inched toward seven, Polly’s friend Ramona came in for her shift—she’d started working at the bakery after the de facto manager, Clementine, moved away to be closer to her family. Though Ramona’s help was supposed to be temporary, she’d taken to the work and appeared to have no interest in leaving.

  They worked through the morning Declair rush—after capping their daily output at two hundred Declairs, the rush was a one-hour frenzy of activity that repeated twenty-four hours later—and Hannah set out samples of her freshly baked pumpkin spice cake.

  She attended to several regular customers—a mother who came in with her two home-schooled daughters, two students from Hartford Community College, and one of the men from the company that had installed Wild Child’s security system.

  Hannah’s friend and fellow nomad Dave Roland sat in a cushy chair by the wood-burning fireplace, one foot resting on the stone surround. He gave her a sheepish grin as she approached with a teapot and a basket of spice cake slices.

  “Try this.” She extended the basket. “Pumpkin spice cake.”

  He took a slice and bit into it, his eyebrows lifting. “Nice. Tastes like autumn.”

  “I’ve been trying new recipes.” Hannah refilled his mug with macha tea. “Gives me something to do here. That’ll be three fifty for the tea and the muffin you think I didn’t see you take.”

  “Put it on my tab.” Dave reached for another slice of cake.

  “Your tab is over a foot long.”

  “That’s what she said.” His grin widened behind his beard.

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. She disliked freeloading in any form, but she had an admitted soft spot for Dave. They’d met a couple of years ago after he had flunked out of college and made his way to Italy to learn how to be a vintner. After failing at that, he’d tried his hand at numerous other trades—tour guide, fruit picker, bartender, assistant souvenir hawker.

  Hannah had found him camping at a Prague train station where she’d just disembarked from Dresden—after he’d offered her half of a potato pancake, she’d taken pity on him and warned him that the police were ousting “vagabonds” from the station.

  Since then, they’d traveled on and off together before Dave returned to the US to join a buddy on a Route 66 trip. Hannah had intended to go with him months ago after she’d first arrived back in Rainsville, but then the whole thing with Polly and the Paris pastry-making course had conspired to keep her here.

  Dave had been coming and going for the past few months, still trying to convince her to go with him as he figured out his next move. Though there had never been anything romantic between them, not for Dave’s occasional lack of trying, they had a friendship based on mutual love of spontaneous travel and bickering.

  “If you don’t pay your tab within twenty-four hours, I’m putting you to work,” she said.

  “Way to kick a guy while he’s down, Banana,” Dave muttered.

  “You’re so far from down you’re practically airborne,” Hannah replied. That was one of the other reasons she liked his company. Everything was all good with Dave. She appreciated that nothing ever seemed to hurt him too much.

  Hannah turned away. Movement caught her eye, and she glanced out the front window. Evan Stone was walking across the street toward Wild Child, his stride long and confident, a breeze whisking through his dark hair.

  Hannah’s body surged with a remembrance of tunneling her fingers through his hair and surrendering to their hot, perfect kiss.

  She tightened her grip on the teapot, steeling herself against the upwelling of heat in her chest. She needed to be cool and distant, to convey the message that the other night had been a mistake she had no intention of repeating.

  “Dave.” She leaned in closer to him as Evan approached the front door. “See that guy?”

  He peered outside. “That guy? Yeah, I see him.”

  “If he talks to me, I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

  Dave’s eyes widened. “Wha… ?”

  “We kissed the other night,” Hannah hissed, pinching his arm lightly. “But I don’t want him to think it’ll turn into more than that. So just go along with whatever I say, okay?”

  “Will you forgive my tab if I do?”

  “Yes.”

 
“Okay, then, sweet cheeks.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  Hannah groaned inwardly as the bell over the door jingled. She straightened and started back to the counter, feeling rather than seeing Evan approach her.

  “Hello.” Her voice came out breathy and girly, not cool.

  Evan nodded, his gaze moving slowly over her. “Hi, Lockhart.”

  Their eyes met. A hot, electric current crackled between them. She thought of blueberries, sapphires, forget-me-nots, robins’ eggs. She remembered the warm feeling that had flourished inside her when he’d stood beside her decorating desserts with Reddi-Wip.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked.

  He turned his attention to the display cases. Hannah took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him. In striking contrast to his “movie-star handsome” of the other night, Evan now looked corporate-handsome in dark trousers, a striped tie, and a wrinkled, tan shirt. He’d also lost the amiable, relaxed demeanor he’d had; now there was a tense set to his shoulders, a faint tightness around his mouth.

  “Any Declairs?” he asked.

  “You’re too late. You know you need to be here by nine to get a Declair.”

  “Then you pick something for me.” He dug into his pocket for his wallet.

  “Hey, baby, you want to bring me a doughnut?” Dave called.

  Evan slanted him a glance, his expression frosting over. Hannah smiled weakly.

  “Just a sec,” she told Dave, trying to send him a warning look that he didn’t need to overdo it. “I’m helping a customer.”

  Evan turned his attention away from Dave and back to his wallet. Hannah selected the shiniest, fattest chocolate éclair from a tray and set it on a plate for him. She poured a cup of coffee and rang up the purchases. He nodded his thanks and walked to a table by the window.

  She secretly admired the length of his legs in his trousers, which fit his hips and rear to perfection, and the evident muscularity of his broad back.

  She caught sight of Mia looking at her with interest. Great. So much for secret admiration. All she needed was for Mia to text Polly that despite her protests, there was “something going on” with her and Evan. Which Mia was probably doing right now, given the way her fingers were whisking over the screen of her phone.

  “I doughnut like waiting, baby,” Dave remarked.

  Hannah gritted her teeth and brought him a glazed doughnut. “Tone it down a bit, huh?”

  “Hey, I’m a macha macha man.” He reached out to pat her ass.

  Hannah flicked his ear hard.

  “Ow.” He scowled.

  “Hands off. Eat the doughnut.”

  Hannah went to the sink, filled the small watering can, and watered the plants scattered around the bakery. She still couldn’t stop herself from casting glances at Evan. Instead of digging into the éclair, he was scrolling on his phone. His shoulders were hunched, his thick hair falling over a creased brow.

  Something was wrong.

  The knowledge bloomed in her with sudden force, as if she could feel his distress, like a crack right through his center.

  She watered the ficus near the community bulletin board. Everyone had problems, right? Just because they’d gotten hot and heavy in the middle of a bachelor auction—and just because she’d stupidly bid fifty thousand dollars for him—didn’t mean she needed to probe at his feelings.

  Except she disliked the shadow that had fallen over him, darkening the charmer who had winked at her and informed her she’d lost her sweet tooth.

  He frowned at his phone, his forehead wrinkling.

  Though she was abandoning her resolve to be “cool and distant,” Hannah grabbed a Declair from her stash in the walk-in refrigerator. She put it on a plate, dusted it with powdered sugar, and set it in front of Evan.

  He glanced up in surprise. “I thought you were out of them.”

  “I have a secret stash I keep for emergencies,” Hannah said in a low voice as she sat across from him. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I qualify as an emergency?” Evan put his phone on the table.

  “You seem a little down.” She studied him, taking in the dullness of his blue eyes, the lines of stress bracketing his mouth. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” He took a bite of the Declair, making a rumbling noise of appreciation that rippled over Hannah’s skin.

  “Hi there.” Dave yanked a chair up to the table and sat, sticking his hand out toward Evan. “I’m Dave, Hannah’s boyfriend.”

  Evan’s eyes turned wintry. Ignoring Dave’s outstretched hand, he set his gaze on Hannah. “Boyfriend, huh? Funny you didn’t mention a boyfriend when I had you pinned up against the wall the other night.”

  “Whoa, does that mean what I think it means?” Dave’s eyes widened.

  Hannah sighed. “Never mind, Dave,” she muttered.

  He looked wounded. She felt Evan’s penetrating gaze. A flush heated her cheeks.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she admitted. “He was pretending to be because… well, just because.”

  “Because you thought I’d come here to hit on you?” Evan asked dryly.

  “Because I make a good beard.” Dave tugged at his beard and grinned.

  At another glower from Hannah, he pushed his chair back and extended a fist to Evan. “Hey, no hard feelings, man, huh?”

  Evan shrugged but allowed the fist bump. Dave retreated to his seat by the fireplace. A heavy silence fell between Hannah and Evan. She tried to squash her embarrassment.

  “He’s an old travel buddy,” she explained. “He’s deflected unwanted attention from me before, but he’s never been a boyfriend. Never will be.”

  He gave a short nod. “Good.”

  The possessive tone in his voice made her feel as if hot butter were sliding through her veins.

  “So why the 360?” Evan asked.

  Hannah took a breath. She owed him the truth. Not only had she done her share of flirting the other night, but she’d let him kiss her senseless—hell, she’d practically begged him, at least in her mind—so it was only fair that she confess her new misgivings.

  “I felt really stupid after the auction,” she admitted. “I mean, you’re Luke’s brother, and first I sprayed you with whipped cream and then I accidentally bid a fortune for you, and then the kiss ended up on the website, of all places… I wasn’t exactly behaving like myself. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. Heat jolted through her, reminding her all too clearly of what it had felt like to press her lips against his and feel the hard strength of his body—

  “Best night I’ve had in a while.” Evan took a bite of the éclair. “And worth every penny.”

  Hannah’s flush deepened, even as pleasure curled through her. She cleared her throat and nodded toward the éclair.

  “So do éclairs also date to the Renaissance?”

  “Later than that.” He licked a drop of chocolate from his lip. “They were first made for French royalty in the nineteenth century. Originally called pain à la duchesse.”

  “How do you know that kind of obscure fact?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time reading obscure fact books.”

  He’d also obviously spent a lot of time perfecting his kisses.

  Hannah shook her head to dislodge the unbidden thought, even though it was near impossible to look at Evan and not remember the seamless press of his lips against hers.

  “How are things here?” He pushed his empty plate away and gestured to the bakery. “Do you have a new manager yet?”

  “No. I told Polly she should just hire Ramona.” Hannah tilted her head toward the other woman. “She’s worked out great as a general employee, and she knows what she’s doing.”

  “What about you?” Evan’s gaze settled on her again, and Hannah felt as if she were standing outside on an overcast, blue-sky day when clouds drifted briefly across the sun and blocked its warmth. Then the cloud passed, and heat spilled do
wn to spread over the grass, the trees, and her skin.

  She loved days like that. Mutable, ever-changing.

  “I don’t want to be the manager.” She ran her finger over a crack in the rustic wooden table. “I’m leaving as soon as Polly gets back. I wish I could leave now.”

  She hadn’t meant to confess that last part, not wanting further word to get back to Polly of her restless discontent. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want her sister to worry, it was selfish and petty to feel this way. There were far worse fates in the world than to work at a nice bakery for six months.

  But there was also the reality of Lock Heart, which had been Hannah’s only source of income, and success, for years. She couldn’t let her blog die any more than Polly could have let Wild Child die.

  Evan’s gaze was still on her, like sunlight warming her bare arms.

  “Polly told me you’re a world traveler,” he said. “You should talk to my brother Adam. He just got back from Mozambique.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Sugar Rush business, though he’s more of a freelancer than a full-time employee. He also runs an adventure travel company.”

  “I’ve always thought travel itself is an adventure.”

  “How many countries have you traveled to?” Evan asked.

  “Over thirty. I took an au pair job the summer after my high school graduation and I’ve been traveling ever since.”

  “Sounds like a great life.”

  “It is.” Her mouth twisted. “When I’m living it.”

  “Why have you spent so many years traveling the world?” he asked.

  To escape.

  Being back in Rainsville had sharpened the truths Hannah already knew, but she still had a hard time confessing her fear to herself. She certainly couldn’t confess it to him.

  “I have a lot of wanderlust,” she said instead.

  The word lust spilled from her mouth like a spicy mint. Evan’s eyes slipped down to her lips. Hannah’s blood quickened just from the brush of his stare, her skin tingling with fresh awareness of him.