Her phone buzzed silently, and she checked the text. It was from Leslie McMann, the caterer she’d met at the party at Honey’s.
I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from your brother. Have you given any thought to my offer? I’d be happy to buy your recipe and brand your cupcakes. I’d also be happy to hire you on as my personal pastry chef. Look forward to hearing from you!
Natalie took a deep breath. It was the only offer she’d gotten lately that sounded worthwhile. Sure, it was terrifying and would be a huge change, but it was something to think about. Judging by the god-awful dates she’d been on in the last couple of weeks, she didn’t really have anything here worth staying for. She glanced at the front of the room, where East was. He’d gotten one thing right: she’d played the part of the victim well. It was time she took the power back and reminded him that she was not another Easton Ambrose plaything.
Chapter Eleven
East swigged from the carton of orange juice, not caring to use a glass. It had been a hell of an afternoon. After the CPR class the other day, Natalie had slipped out, and he hadn’t talked to her since. He felt kind of bad about that. Time was winding down, the wedding was around the corner, and Natalie was still on his mind.
He’d heard she still had a date lined up every damn night. But so far, no word of any of them sticking. He was relieved about that. He couldn’t exactly justify crashing every date she went out on, but he didn’t want her to get hurt.
And maybe he didn’t want her with anyone else, either.
He ran a forearm over his brow to clear some of the sweat from the workout he’d just finished. He’d hoped a long run and an endorphin boost would clear his head, but here he was, still fantasizing about Natalie and her tongue tasting him at the CPR class. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her at the class. In that moment he’d just wanted to be near her, in public, and for some reason he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
Stupid.
He was basically inviting problems, same as he’d done with going to her cupcake shop, same as he’d done with dancing with her at the party, same as he’d done the other day at the CPR class.
He kept putting them in positions to get caught. To get looked at funny. To get questioned.
What the hell did he think he was doing? This was a secret he wasn’t doing a great job of keeping, but whenever she came around, he had a habit of not thinking straight.
He put the orange juice back just as there was a knock on his front door. He’d hadn’t bothered to shower yet, or even put a shirt on, but it was likely just Matt back in town and coming to give him more wedding duties.
He opened the door. It wasn’t Matt. It was Natalie.
“Hey there, darlin’,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Pleasure to see you.”
She raised her chin and walked past him. She was looking extra sexy, and there was a confidence to her he couldn’t quite place. But he liked it.
“I came to get the keys for the S and R van,” she said plainly.
“Well, come in, sit down, make yourself at home,” he said.
“That little stunt you pulled the other at the CPR class was—”
“Awesome,” he cut in.
“Ridiculous.”
He winked. “Your tongue didn’t seem to think so.”
“Oh, please. I was trying to push you away.”
“With your mouth?”
“Yeah, since that was the only thing you put on me.”
“I can put more on you, baby. Just say the word. Or I can put my mouth on you in different places. Again, all I need is a word.”
“Oh, I have a word for you. It starts with ‘jack’ and ends with ‘ass.’”
“Feisty tonight?”
She crossed her arms and the gap in her sweater showed a red bra strap. He instantly wondered what kind of lace she was hiding, and if the panties matched. His fingers itched to tear them off her.
“You have a date tonight?” he asked. It was getting down to the wire with the wedding, so he was sure Natalie had some kind of set up going on to find a guy to be her date. Which he hated. Not that he cared. Okay, he cared. But there was jack shit he could do about it, since he couldn’t obviously take her. Or date her. Or even be in the same realm as good enough for her.
But now all he could think about was that red bra and her date and the fact that if that idiot got to see it and he didn’t, he might have a stroke.
“I have drinks later,” she said.
So she did have someone lined up. A boiling rage threatened to spill over but he turned it down.
“Well, then you may want to tell him you’ll be late, because I don’t know where the keys are. It’ll take me a few hours to find them.”
She frowned at him.
“Unless you want to help me look?” he offered.
“Fine,” she said.
“Great, you start looking in my bedroom. Particularly the bed.” She rolled her eyes, and he shot her a grin. “Come on, that was a good one.”
“Is that all it takes to get women into your bed?”