Really? Was she so secure in their relationship that she didn’t mind the way he acted with other women? Or did she not know how he acted when she wasn’t here?
A voice whispered inside her head: None of your business.
But every fiber of her being screamed otherwise. She hated for any woman to get caught up in the lies, the triangle, the heartache that she’d been trapped in for so long. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the brunette leaning in close to Will’s shoulder and feeding him something off her plate.
She had dodged a bullet with Will, that was for sure. He was exactly like her ex—the same kind of guy she swore never to get involved with again. She wouldn’t put herself or Zoe through that kind of torture. And apparently, she’d proven that she couldn’t trust her instincts—Will had seemed really nice at the bakery, very gentlemanly and mature.
But maybe that level of nice was just another method of flirting.
Her breath tightened at the close call. She’d almost done it again.
She strode away from Adam without another word and back toward the house, half hoping Will hadn’t seen her and half hoping he had. If Melissa ever came in The Dough Knot with him . . . well, she’d have a moral dilemma to deal with then. It wasn’t her business, not directly, but seriously, how could all of Will’s friends—Brittany and Adam, especially—treat Melissa this way? Why hadn’t anyone ever told her the kind of man Will really was?
Why hadn’t anyone ever told Charlotte about her ex?
She rushed back into the kitchen, paused, and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to let the anger from the past get the best of her.
But she could sure as heck make certain never to repeat it.
This was why Will hated parties. A bunch of loud people who only grew louder after they’d been drinking, and perfectly made-up women who seemed to think of him as either a child to be doted on or a fish to be caught.
Exhibit A—the girl who kept trying to feed him off her plate. It was weird, and he didn’t know how to stop it without causing a scene. And Brittany had already caused plenty of those all by herself. He didn’t need to up the tally. What had she been doing earlier, dragging some party guest through the yard and hollering, before abandoning her near the gift table?
He caught a glimpse of the woman’s back as she headed toward the house, anger stiffening her spine. She tossed back her hair, and Will swallowed the lump of cracker lodged in his throat. Charlotte?
His heart soared. He hadn’t realized she’d already brought the petit fours. He wanted to see her. Badly. Wanted to apologize for the way he’d acted at The Dough Knot, wanted to confess his fear and coward’s way of handling it.
Wanted to get away from these Stepford blondes who were fighting over him in that subtle, catty way only women could.
His initial plan—to leave the obligatory party early after charming Adam, Brittany, and the other guests into forgiving his lack of sociability—had backfired. He’d intended to be the life of the party just long enough to make a quick escape. But now he had a herd of women sticking close enough to him that he was suffocating on the mix of perfume and hair spray, and he didn’t know how to bail.
If he’d still been in his college frat-boy days, this would have been a dream. Bragging rights to take back to the frat house, full of exaggerated stories and plenty of kissing and telling.
But those days were long over, and he didn’t miss them a single bit. Now he didn’t want a conquest. He didn’t want a story. He just wanted to leave.
And he really wanted to try one of Charlotte’s petit fours.
He disentangled his arm from the red, inch-long nails of the brunette gripping it, and smiled to soften the rejection for her. Maybe he could catch Charlotte if he hurried, try to smooth over last week’s bakery bailout, and load up a plate of goodies for Melissa. He couldn’t let himself get too close to Charlotte—that was still unwise.
But taking a week away from the bakery to get her out of his head obviously hadn’t worked, given the spike in his heart rate when he spotted her a minute ago. If he couldn’t be around Charlotte without wanting more, and if he couldn’t be away from her without nearly obsessing over her—what option remained?
She had sneaked inside his head, and was getting dangerously close to his heart. The heart he’d put on hold indefinitely. But now he wasn’t sure he could get it back even if he wanted to.
He took a few steps toward the house. The curly-haired blonde to his left pulled him back.
“Where are you going?” She batted lashes so heavily coated with mascara he wondered how she could manage to blink.
“Inside.” Without a second glance, he tugged free and resumed his trek through the yard. Did women actually think this level of clinginess and control worked? Then again, in his former life, it probably would have. He shook his head in disgust over his own past. It had taken Melissa’s accident to awaken him.