Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha #2)(8)
“He’s funny,” Rachelle states and then adds, “and hot.”
“So hot,” Aubrey agrees, still bouncing on her toes.
“Girls, as much as I love you both, you shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“We weren’t really eavesdropping. That would mean we were hiding, and we weren’t. We were standing in plain sight; you just didn’t notice us because of the hot guy.” Aubrey smirks.
I laugh, shaking my head, and order, “See what everyone is having. I’m going to go check my emails to make sure I haven’t gotten any new inquiries since I’ve been gone.”
“Got it, boss,” Rachelle agrees with a goofy salute, and Aubrey goes to grab a pen and paper from the counter.
I leave them to handle things for a while and go to my office. Once I’m seated at my desk, I pull out my cell to call Leah about Gaston but then remember she’s still on her honeymoon. I should’ve told her about Gaston after her bachelorette party, or even when I was with her in Tennessee, but I didn’t. If I’d told her about our interaction at the club and the flowers, she would have demanded I call him and give him a chance.
I love my best friend, but since finding love, she’s forgotten about the crap even she went through when she was on the market and dating. I stare at my phone, wondering who else I can call. Most of my friends have been married for years, and none of them have a clue about dating today. And my mom . . . well, my mom isn’t an option. She’s still too bitter after my father asked her for a divorce a year ago so he could marry his mistress. Since then, she thinks men should be placed on an island and only used to reproduce. Yes, she actually said that to me. In her defense, she had just finished a bottle of wine and was in her feelings.
With a frustrated sigh, I drop my cell phone on my desk and turn on my computer. I respond to a few emails asking for quotes on birthday and wedding cakes, then go back out to the front of the shop. Even though I trust my girls, I like to remind everyone there is an adult around, even if I rarely have any problems with the kids who come in after school to hang out. It doesn’t happen often, but from time to time the boys will get a little out of hand—especially since they, for some reason, think acting loud and rambunctious is a good way to get a girl’s attention. I pray they learn with time and wisdom it isn’t.
As soon as I step into the front of the shop, I immediately see that every last customer has been taken care of. The group of high schoolers is now seated by the front windows eating, talking, and laughing. There are a few parents with younger children in the corner, an area designed to be closed off from the rest of the shop so parents of toddlers can have a moment to breathe while their littles eat whatever baked good they choose from the display case or color on the walls with chalk. Seeing all is well, I smile at my girls, catching their return grins before they get back to work.
The rest of the day drags, especially after the kids leave, including my employees, who need to make it to a basketball game at which they are cheering. With just a few customers to keep my mind busy, I spend an ungodly amount of time wondering what I should wear tonight.
I’m feeling nervous because Gaston will be here any minute to pick me up for dinner, and my knees wobble as I glance in the mirror. I don’t look much different from when he showed up at the bakery this afternoon, which I hope doesn’t disappoint him.
I pulled my hair out of my usual ponytail and added a few more waves with the help of my curling wand and hair spray. I coated my lashes with another layer of mascara and applied a pink lip stain to my lips. After working all day, I barely had the energy to shower when I got home, not to mention fixing myself up and changing into the long-sleeved black jumpsuit and heels I’m currently wearing.
The doorbell rings, and I fluff my hair as I walk through my one-bedroom condo. I bought my place because of the view of the ocean from the balcony. It cost me an arm and a leg, and I have to travel down twenty-nine floors to reach the sand. But the price I paid was worth every penny, especially when I get to have my morning coffee or late-night wine while looking out at the ocean.
When I make it to the entryway, I take a second to make sure I’m decent before I check the peephole and open the door.
Once again, I’m caught off guard by just how handsome Gaston is. Even dressed casually in jeans and a button-down gray shirt that does amazing things to his eyes, he still makes my breath catch. When I notice he’s carrying two reusable shopping bags in one hand, I blink in confusion, then take a step back when he places his big palm against my stomach, urging me inside.
“I know I said I was taking you out to dinner, but after thinking about it and knowing you’ve probably been up since early this morning, I decided I should just cook dinner for you here. That way you can go to bed without the hassle of dinner out and the ride back home afterward.”
He said a lot, but still I’m stuck on one point. “You’re going to cook dinner?” I know I sound confused and concerned, but my dad has never—at least, not that I know of—cooked dinner. Really, the only thing I’ve seen him use the stove for is to scramble eggs in too much oil and make boxed macaroni and cheese, which should have been okay, considering there were only about three ingredients, but it never was.
“Got the stuff to make seafood risotto. I also picked up chicken, in case you’re allergic to seafood.”
Who is this man, and seriously, what planet did he come from?