I storm out of the kitchen, my heart still pounding in my chest. I don’t know what it is about that guy, but I find him equal parts irresistibly sexy and totally repellant.
The breakfast crowd is gone now, leaving the store quiet. This is usually the time when I go into the kitchen to bake, but I definitely can’t be in the same room with Killian. When he backed me up against the counter just then, I could hardly breathe. My heart raced, beating a million times a minute in my chest, and I swear every brain cell in my head went to mush.
If Killian had kissed me then, I wouldn’t have stopped him.
And kissing someone like him – rugged and rough around the edges and pushy and obnoxious – wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, with the way I just blew him off, it’s a matter of seconds before he waltzes out here and quits this whole employee nonsense.
“Everything work out okay?” Opal asks nonchalantly, but with Opal, nothing is casual. I’ve learned that about her. There’s always something beneath the surface of her innocent questions.
“Fine,” I say, my voice clipped. "You did not hire that man, did you?"
Opal raises an eyebrow. "It was a busy morning and that man was kind enough to step in and give me a hand. And if you ask me, you need him."
“I certainly do not need that ”
"That extraordinarily handsome man distracting customers in your coffee shop?" Killian's voice, low and deep behind me, sends goose bumps down my arms.
"Lily was just telling me how much she appreciated your help this morning," Opal says.
"Fine," I admit. "It was nice to have an extra pair of hands here."
"Then I accept," Killian says.
"You accept what?"
"Your offer of employment."
"I didn't make an offer of employment. There's a 'help wanted' sign still in the window for a reason."
"She has a terrible time accepting help," Killian says to Opal.
"Child, you have no idea," Opal replies.
"Traitor." I mutter the word under my breath.
"Let me show you how to make some of the coffee drinks while Lily bakes. Remember, Lily, you have the cake for the Rogers girl's birthday."
I groan, momentarily distracted by the birthday cake. Aster Rogers is a brat who's changed her mind three times about her birthday cake . . . after I made them. They're all "test runs" on birthday cakes before the eight-year-old's birthday party, at her mother's insistence. I should be happy they keep reordering cakes, since they’re paying me, but there’s just something about the spoiled girl’s insistence that she wants something different each time that bugs me.
"Let's get started, ma'am." Killian winks as he steps around me.
"Oh, sugar, don't ma'am me," Opal chides him. "Makes me feel old. Unless you think I look old. You aren't saying that, are you?"
Killian chuckles. "You don't look a day over twenty-five, Opal."
"I knew this one was a keeper the moment I laid eyes on him," Opal declares.
"Wait a second," I interrupt, my voice hushed because there are still two customers in the store. "I did not say I was hiring Mr. –"
"Saint," Killian says.
“Is that really you’re name?” Is he just screwing with me?
"Killian Saint." His eyes crinkle at the edges. "Fits, doesn't it?"
I don't respond to that, because the last thing I need to be thinking about is how un-saintly he is. "I did not say I was hiring you, Mr. Saint. In fact, I think we discussed the fact that a job in a bakery isn't really what you're looking for."
"Oh, no." Killian looks at me meaningfully. "It's exactly what I'm looking for."
"I vote yes on hiring Killian," Opal says.
Killian raises his hand. "That makes two of us."
"It's a win," Opal decrees.
"This isn't a democracy," I point out.
Opal gives me a stern look. “I wasn’t aware it was a fascist dictatorship, either."
I don’t disguise my groan. Opal is the closest thing I have to a friend in this town, and she’s turning against me. “I don’t know why you’d want to work here."
Killian looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching. I half-expect him to say something inappropriate right here in the front of the store, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs. “I’m bored.”
“It doesn’t pay much."
“I work for free."
“You work for free.” I repeat the words flatly. Is he just trying to out-stubborn me? Or is he really going to keep this up just because he thinks he has a shot at getting in my pants? Well, two can play at that game. If he's that stubborn that he wants to work for free, I can call his bluff.
“I don’t need the money,” Killian explains.
“So you’re an independently wealthy mountain man, then?”
“Well, I’m no billionaire.” He pauses for a beat. “I don't have a red room either."