Sweet Cheeks(99)

“And?” I prompt. And I’m not sure why I do because I couldn’t care less what this woman says, and yet I’m curious how she will complete the phrase.

“And?”

My phone vibrates against the counter. The sound fills the room as I stare at her. “Yes. And?”

She emits a dramatic sigh and glares at me. “I’m sorry for any trouble I brought to either of you.”

I twist my lips as I stare at her. Hollywood royalty in my tiny kitchen, and I’d never switch places with her for all the money in the world.

“Thank you.”

That’s all I choose to give her. Because while I’m not one to hold a grudge, I’m also not one to forgive blindly someone who has intentionally hurt those I love.

She turns with a flip of her shampoo-commercial-worthy hair and stalks out of the kitchen into the bakery. It’s not until she’s out of sight that I sag against the counter and let the nerves that quietly owned my body at what just happened take over. I blow out a fortifying breath, tell myself to get my shit together and be glad if I never have to see Jenna Dixon again.

However, I know how hard that must have been for her to do. Either that or Hayes threatened her with something . . . because I have a feeling apologies are not something she’s used to giving.

My phone buzzing again reminds me I received a text during that uncomfortable exchange. When I pick it up, I’m greeted by a text message from Hayes.



I hope she’s back there groveling for you to forgive her. It may not be sincere, but Jenna giving an apology is a miracle in itself. And yes—surprise—I am here today. Doing a few interviews. Setting the record straight on the things I can. But don’t think I’m backing down from my promise. No talking. I said ten days, Saylor, and I meant ten days.



My breath catches in my throat when I realize that if Hayes knows Jenna was in the kitchen, then he’s already here. And at the same time, I really hear the words of his text.

He’s not going to talk to me? He’s just going to sit there all day, be available to everyone else, cause a flurry of paparazzi with first Jenna and then him in my bakery, and yet he won’t talk to me?

I snort. Yeah, right.

Needing to see for myself, I head toward the café up front. When I walk through the doorway and see him, every part of my body reacts. My heart. My breath. My nerves. My libido.

And then they shift into overdrive the second he looks up from the person he’s speaking to and locks eyes with mine. I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room, but equally, I’ve been given air for the first time after being deprived of it. He grants me a half-cocked smirk, a raise of an eyebrow followed by an ever-so-subtle lift of his chin. My God, he is desire personified.

But damn him to hell because with his presence, my body comes alive. I want. And need. And crave everything about him. The emotional and the physical. His attention. His laughter. His next minute. His forever.

Time stands still in the seconds we’re connected, so much so that the moment he’s pulled away—a question asked to him by a guy wearing a headset—I wonder how I lived without this feeling. God yes, the current situation is a clusterf*ck at best, and yet, it is worth it for this feeling right here. He is worth it and I marvel at how this connection between us can be so strong, so quickly.

But then again, hasn’t it always been there?

Because love is like magic. You can question it—how it happens, when it will happen, why it bowls you over when it does happen, and how you existed before it happened—but you might never get the answer.

Sometimes you just have to believe in it and its process.





Watching him is torture. Hearing his laugh and catching his fleeting glances cast my way is comforting. That little zing of current when our eyes do connect before he returns his attention to the interviewer is empowering.

It’s like my body is plugged into an electric current with him here. Every chuckle is a jolt to my libido. Every smile causes a tingle through my body. Each dart of his tongue to lick his lips results in a surge of want coursing through me.

So I opt to decorate cupcakes at the front counter today, unwilling to be separated from him when he’s sitting here in my space. I feign indifference all the while paying attention. He’s charming and courteous and funny during his interviews. He pays close attention to the questions, thinks before he answers, and is entertaining. He also takes the lead, not letting Jenna say too much but smiling politely when she does, except of course when the inevitable question comes up.

The “I’d not be doing my job if I had the two of you together and neglected to ask about the state of your relationship considering the tumultuous rumors over the past several weeks. Is there anything you’d like to clear up?”

“Thank you, but it’s a private matter.” If I wasn’t already standing at full attention, I sure as hell am now with Jenna’s response.

Irritation flickers over Hayes’s face for the first time during the interview. I notice the break in his mask and hear the insincerity in his laugh. “It’s a private matter that was made public, so I’ll address it.” He raises his eyebrows. Looks straight at the interviewer. “Jenna and I dated. We broke up quite some time ago, before it was public knowledge. The relationship had simply run its course. I did not cheat or sneak away to a tropical island to have a secret rendezvous with my mistress. However, in the months following our breakup, I did happen to run into my high school sweetheart whom I hadn’t seen in almost ten years. She had recently split from her fiancé. We reconnected and feelings were still there between us. The rumor that I cheated on Jenna, or that my new girlfriend did anything unsavory, is a complete fabrication made up by someone to sell pictures to the highest bidder.” Hayes breaks his gaze from the reporter and looks to Jenna. His jaw clenches as he waits for her to look his way. “Isn’t that right, Jenna?”