I hear someone in the line grumble, and someone else walks out the door. Seriously? The people in this town have nothing better to do than come read a stupid, obnoxious sign in a store? There’s really nothing else happening in West Bend that a dumb sign and Killian Saint can cause that much excitement?
I turn around and storm into the kitchen, pulling out the mermaid cake while grumbling to myself. I won’t scream at him right now in front of customers. I won't fire him right now and cause a huge scene.
I’ll wait.
I’ll wait here in the back while I work on this cake, stewing and plotting Killian’s demise. Killian obviously can’t work here, since he has the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old boy.
I pour all my frustration into working on the mermaid cake and I lose track of time. Opal walks through the kitchen door two hours later. She holds a receipt in her hands. “Now, before you say anything else,” she starts, “I know you’re mad.”
“Mad?” I put down the spray gun I’ve been using to color the ocean on the cake a mixture of blue-green. “Mad doesn’t even begin to describe what I am right now. I’m beyond mad. I’m absolutely livid.”
“That boy is a bit of a rebel, I know, honey. But look at the morning revenue.”
“A bit of a rebel?” I snatch the receipt from her hand. “He’s way beyond that. I should fire you both.”
Opal shrugs. “You do what you got to do, honey. But if you want my opinion, that boy is good for this place. And you.”
I bark a laugh. “Good for this place? He’s going to run all the customers out of here.”
“Maybe so." Opal shrugs. “I’ve been in this town a long time, though. Seems to me things need to be shaken up sometimes.”
“Traitor,” I breathe.
Opal shakes her head. “You okay on the cake? I’ve got to get home.”
“Fine." The fact that Opal has been in my corner since I bought this place is the only reason I don't fire her the way I’m going to fire Killian.
“Don’t forget to call the company about that freezer,” Opal advises. “It was making a noise this morning again when I came in. Killian was going to take a look but – “
“No,” I cut her off. “Killian doesn’t need to do anything else here. He’s done quite enough.”
“Uh-huh. See you tomorrow, honey,” Opal calls.
I don’t hear a sound from the front of the store. It’s two minutes past two and the store is closed, since our business is morning-heavy and closing by two usually gives me just enough time to wrap up administrative stuff and run to get Chloe from school. Maybe Killian has taken the hint and gone home with his tail between his legs. Somehow I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem like the type to be embarrassed by anything he does.
I set the paper down on the counter and swing open the freezer door, propping it open with a box. It’s making a bit of a buzzing sound, but then again, it’s an old freezer. It came with the bakery. I’m sure a repairman is going to cost me a pretty penny, I think, as I put the cake on a shelf inside the freezer.
When I turn around, Killian is standing just inside the kitchen, his hand on the counter.
13
Killian
The look that crosses Lily's face when she sees me… well, she is pissed.
Her nostrils are flaring again, worse than before. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this close to a woman flaring her nostrils at me like a damn horse.
Shit. Now all I can think about is riding her. Or her riding me. I’m not particular. An image of Lily bent over while I smack her perfect bare ass with a riding crop flashes in my head. All of the blood in my body immediately goes to my cock. Hell, I don’t even know where that came from. It’s not like I’m into whips and chains and shit.
“Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to say something?” Lily asks, her voice hard.
She’s angry. It’s hot as hell.
“Look,” I start. “Your customers are annoying as fuck.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” she asks. “Of all the things you could say, that’s your defense?”
“It was disorganized as all get-out in the morning, and the same people that were in there yesterday were asking the same dumb questions about ingredients and wanting double low-fat no-whip caramel whatever-the-fuck. So I had to set some ground rules.”
“This is my business!” she yells, obviously frustrated. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are or why on earth I’ve been stupid enough to even let you in here.”
“Hold up now. I was helping you out."
Her eyes get wide, and she marches up to me like she’s on a mission. I glance sideways out of the corner of my eye to make sure there are no knives on the stainless steel countertop where she was working. She looks like she might be considering using one.
“That’s 'helping me'?” she asks. “Pissing off customers, driving people out of here, probably landing me in the newspaper for my poor customer service? That’s your idea of helping?”