Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
He nods. “Layla told me about this place. She brought in some banana muffins to the office, which were delicious by the way.” I grin at his words. “This place is going to blow up. I predict it’s just going to get busier. Trust me. I’m a sweets expert.”
“We have more than sweets. We have fresh breads and croissants. Although not every day. Right now, it’s just Aspen and me. However, at the rate that we’re going, we’ll be able to hire some staff soon.”
“That’s good.”
“Is it?”
“Yep. I’m going to need you to myself for our date, so you hiring help is beneficial to both of us.”
“You’re awfully full of yourself.” My pulse pounds in my ears. Trusting men is hard for me, and well, Grant is intimidating with his good looks and confidence. The thought of spending more time with him causes butterflies to dance in my belly.
He shrugs. “I want to get to know you.”
“Why?” The words slip out before I can think better of it.
“Because I like what I see. Because in order to make these delicious treats—” He motions around the lobby. “You have to be just as sweet on the inside. They’re made with love. I can taste it, and I want that in my life.”
I look down at my lap, hiding from him. I’m not used to a man saying such nice things. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of what I’m used to. All I’ve ever heard from men, other than my father, is that my job is the reason I’m fat. That I need to stop with the baking, so I can lose weight. That’s just a glimpse of the hatred spewed my way.
“Hey.” Grant reaches across the small table and places his index finger under my chin. He applies just the smallest amount of pressure until my eyes meet his. “Where did you go just now?”
“I’m right here.”
“Physically. Where were you mentally?”
“That’s not something you want to hear. Trust me.” I close my eyes and sigh. What is it about this man that has me speaking words out loud that only my sister has had the privilege to hear?
“You’re wrong. I want to hear it all.”
“Another time,” I say, picking up my wrap and taking a bite. I chew slowly before wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Thank you for lunch. This is one of my favorites.”
He nods. “I might have had some help with that.”
“Aspen.”
“Don’t blame her. She couldn’t resist the Riggins charm.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “You said you have four brothers, right? Your parents must be exhausted.” I give him a wide smile, letting him know that I’m kidding. Even with my trust issues, I find myself warming up to him. He just seems like a genuine guy. I don’t see any hate or cruelty hiding behind his eyes.
“Yep. I’m the middleman. I have two older and two younger. As for my parents, they’re incredible.”
“Are the others like you?”
“What do you mean, like me?”
“You know, pushy and don’t know how to take no for an answer.” My tone is light and teasing, but the reality is that I want to hear his answer. I want to see if there is any insight to the man sitting next to me.
“Well, if you ask my sister-in-law and future sister-in-law, they would tell you yes. Royce and Owen, my two older brothers, they’re pretty stubborn when it comes to their women.”
“Stubborn, how?”
“Not in a bad way.” He’s quick to reassure me. “Just opening doors, and Layla, that’s Owen’s fiancée, she’s pregnant,” I remind her. “He frets over her. Not that it’s a bad thing, but they bicker about it. He wants to do everything for her, and she insists that she can still manage on her own.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Maybe, but I bet Layla feels differently. I get it, though. I would be the same way if my wife or fiancée were expecting. That’s precious cargo, carrying precious cargo.”
My heart stutters, and my insides feel like mush, the butterflies taking flight for the second time in a matter of minutes. I know the definition of swoon, but this is the first time in my life I’ve ever felt as though the action was happening to me. I feel lightheaded from his confession, but my heart is full. It’s reassuring to know that there are still good men out there. I don’t know Grant Riggins well, but my gut tells me he is one of the good ones. He doesn’t appear to be putting on a show. He’s just speaking from his soul. That’s a rarity in my experience.
“Did you always want to own your own bakery?” he asks.
“I was maybe eight years old. Aspen and I spent the weekend with our grandmother. We made cupcakes from scratch, and I loved it. Mixing the ingredients to create something incredible. I was addicted after that. The magic bars, they were her recipe. I just added a little twist, but it’s mostly the same.”