Wasted Vows Read online

  “Why would he tell another woman about me? No, it was something weirder. I don’t know who it was.”

  “Maybe you should stay away from this guy,” she offered.

  “That’s the plan,” I replied. Hopefully, I could pull that off. Though, the way he made me feel had me doubting it. Weak. In the knees, in the heart, in the soul. “I don’t know. I can’t —” I shook my head and focused on my cappuccino instead of my best friend’s expression.

  “Spill,” she insisted. Kelly always knew when something was up with me. Like a bloodhound on the trail of an escapee.

  “I dunno. It’s like … this should be a really simple thing to do, this whole ‘don’t see him again’ thing.”

  “Yeah, definitely. But you want to see him again, don’t you?” Kelly pursed her lips. There was still foam in the corner of her mouth and she licked at it.

  “I don’t know why. Okay, I do. He’s gorgeous and interesting, and he gives me this feeling.”

  “A feeling in the nether regions?” Kelly asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “Ew, no, stop,” I smacked her arm, then conceded the point with a head wiggle. “Yeah, that too.”

  Kelly burst out laughing, then shifted her cappuccino cup aside and grasped me by the forearms. “You haven’t had anyone in a long time. Maybe this phone call was an innocent thing and you’re just jumping to conclusions because you’re afraid of getting involved.”

  “Maybe,” I said, fighting the urge to chew on my nail.

  “Or maybe, he’s a total psycho and he’s planning on murdering you while you sleep.”

  I stared at her. “What the fuck?!”

  Kelly laughed again, a snort escaping her this time. “My point is, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ve been begging you to go on a date for months now. If this is the guy who gets you all hot and bothered, then what are you waiting for?”

  “Divine intervention,” I murmured. “Someone to wake me up.”

  “Chances are, the attraction will fizzle and this will end up as a fling. A romance you can tell your grandkids about one day. The tame version, obviously. Then it won’t matter who he was on the phone with,” Kelly paused and patted my hand. “Or, you’ll end up together and will find out what the phone call was about anyway. It’s a win-win.”

  I stared at her, a smile lifting the corners of my lips. ‘Convincing Kelly’ at her best. But I didn’t doubt her motives. She always wanted what was best for me. Apparently, she thought that was Gabe.

  “I guess I’ll answer his call, then,” I said. “If he actually does call, of course.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes at me. “Of course.”

  Another customer banged on the door, rattling it in its frame.

  “Hey!” Pat came charging out of the office. “Do you not see the sign? We’re closed — I tell you — closed. It’s after seven, go home!” He flapped his arms to shoo the hapless customer on the other side of the glass.

  I stifled a giggle in my fist. Kelly joined me.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Pat grumbled, walking past us. But he paused and reserved a kiss for his wife, a chaste one on the cheek, which spoke of more to come. While I liked Pat, I couldn’t quite understand the Jekyll & Hyde routine. But Kelly adored him and he was certainly never boring. And the same could be said for the intriguing Gabe.

  Chapter 11

  I stood in the kitchen and folded my arms across my breasts.

  The insurance guy was a ratty dude with a bald pate and a moustache that looked like it’d gone through the chipper in the movie Fargo. Worse yet. He stunk. To high heaven like mothballs and stale booze.

  He’d spent the first five minutes in the kitchen, snooping around, opening containers, sniffing things with his overly long nose. Ogling the cupcakes like they were flour filled porn stars. Gooseflesh crept up my forearms and landed on the back of my neck where all the fine hairs stood at attention.

  “So, you said the fire was at what time exactly?”

  “After nine at night,” I repeated, for the twentieth time. “It’s all in the police report.”

  “Yes, yes, I see that here, but it’s procedure to ask these questions. Can’t be too careful, you know,” he grumbled. He’d introduced himself as Mr. Brown, and worn a suit to match his name. Hounds tooth tweed with leather patches on the elbows. Polyester slacks and tennis shoes completed his outfit.

  “Do you really need me here for this? I should be out front. Tess isn’t great with customers,” I said.

  He gave me a look. “Yes, I need you here for this. I also need you to be quiet.” He raised his clipboard and made a note. The nib of his pen scratched along the paper, making harsh marks and ticks.

  This guy was a royal dickhead. He was everything Gabe wasn’t. Jesus, why did thoughts of Gabe fill my head every time an empty spot cleared. I chewed the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t think of him now, I had to focus. If the insurance company didn’t pay out, I’d be screwed. I wouldn’t be able to afford another oven with all the loans I had to pay off, and the bakery hadn’t broken even yet.

  Gabe floated through my mind regardless. Mocking me with his presence in my thoughts. This time, he didn’t have his shirt on and his hair was rumpled. From my fingers threading through it.

  “And the official cause of the fire?”

  “They think there was a short,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

  “Right, a short.” Brown twiddled the pen, then clicked the end once, twice. “A short. And most of the damage was contained to this area?” He pointed to the soot-stained oven and the shelves I’d stacked on top of it.

  “No, I moved those from over here,” I pointed at the wall where the fire had started, then at the damaged goods. “I had to get them out of the way so I could continue with work as usual. I couldn’t delay my grand opening another day.”

  “You moved them? Well that’s not good, Miss Wilson. Not good at all,” he murmured, scratching another note on his official form.

  I’d had it. “What did you expect me to do? Leave it there? I have a bakery to run and it took you people a month to send someone out to come and assess the damages.” I unfolded my arms and let them hang at my sides, clenching my fists sporadically. Kind of like a muscle twitch. The pain from my fingernails digging into that tender flesh didn’t even register until I’d almost drawn blood.

  This guy was one giant pain in the ass.

  “Miss Wilson, Allegra, please keep your voice down. I am trying to concentrate,” he purred my first name like an endearment, peering at me over his clipboard. The first name I hadn’t given this douche bag permission to use. “The quieter you are, the quicker and easier this process will be.”

  “You literally just asked me a question,” I countered.

  He waved my comment away, then scratched notes with a vengeance.

  I settled back against my kitchen counter and watched him with narrowed eyes. What a sleazebag. If he didn’t come through with a good report, I wouldn’t get the money for this. Then I’d have to find this weasel and slap him full on in the face.

  My palm itched to do it now. He was so rude.

  Not like Gabe.

  I groaned and Mr. Brown shot me a warning look. I didn’t flip him off. I wanted to, though. The middle finger salute would never feel better than in this moment.

  It’d been two weeks since I’d last seen Gabe and he hadn’t called. I’d really hoped he was different and I felt like a complete and utter ninny for trusting him. Believing in him. Maybe he really was a player to the core with his fancy wardrobe, fancy restaurant and even fancier bottle of wine. Not a hint of contact, not a glimmer of interest. After he’d insisted on getting my number.

  Kelly thought he was a total tool for making me wait this long, but I figured the crazy fog had lifted and he’d decided he didn’t want to date me after all. Something better had come along. I was sure of it.

  Or maybe he’d taken my dozen ‘no way am I going out with you’s to heart.

/>   That was fine by me, easier to focus on work without some oversized hunk of meat hanging around. Very delicious hunk of meat. With a six-pack and ocean colored eyes and thick, silky hair that begged to be rumpled into bed-head.

  “A short. Are you sure this was a short?” Brown bent over his potbelly and opened the damaged oven’s door. “It seems highly unlikely.”

  “I can’t say whether it’s likely or not. That was the official cause of the fire. I assume the Minneapolis fire investigators are experts.”

  I’d guessed it correctly that night. The oven had been faulty to start with. That was what I got for buying second hand stuff. At least I’d had the forethought to insure it.

  “And they investigated that thoroughly?” Brown asked, narrowing his eyes. “They had an electrician come down here and check it out?”

  “I assume so. They are the official experts. They tend to do things thoroughly.” I clipped the sentences off short and glared at him. What the hell was he getting at here? Did he think I started the fire in my own bakery?

  “I see,” Brown said. He rose and closed the oven door, then grimaced at the soot staining his delicate fingers.

  I didn’t offer him a napkin, just stared at him and waited for his verdict. My pulse quickened and my belly squirmed at the thought of losing it all. Just because some insurance dude had a bad attitude because he'd been beat with the ugly stick. No ring. Probably hadn’t been laid since the seventies.

  “Hmmm, hmmm,” he made too distinct marks at the bottom of his form, then looked up at me. “Miss Wilson, I’m afraid we’ll have to send along one of our own technicians to have a look at your oven. We need to determine the real cause of the fire.”

  “I’ve just told you the real cause of the fire,” I replied, gritting my teeth until they squeaked.

  “Yes, you have. But as I said, one can never be too careful.” Brown strode toward me and I straightened to meet him. He brought out a card and I accepted it from his outstretched fingers. “We’ll be in touch to organize a date for the assessment.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Wilson, I really can’t say.” Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, his nose in the air.

  “Shit.”

  I crumpled the card in my fist and let it drift to the flour stained floor below.

  Chapter 12

  I picked up the creased card and dumped it in the trash can as I glared at the offending oven. Tess was still out there with the customers, but I needed one fucking moment to compose myself before going out front. If I could have punched Mr. Brown in his smug face and gotten away with it, he’d be sporting a shiner worthy of the WWE.

  I’d built this bakery after Matthew had left me in the lurch. Not to mention my own damn family. I’d been without any prospects, no job, engaged to a man who thought a Stepford Wife was more palatable than an ambitious woman. One with goals. With dreams. He’d laughed at my idea when I told him the first time.

  Ambition wasn’t Matthew’s ‘style’. He was a plodder in every way. Even in the bedroom. He’d just gone at it until he came, then rolled over and fallen asleep. My pleasure, my feelings weren’t important. I wasn’t important.

  Matthew hadn’t been verbally abusive, he’d never hurt me physically either, but our relationship had been empty. I'd felt a deep hole inside and that crater had grown wider with each day we were together. He’d shown me what I didn’t want from my life, especially when we’d both discovered the truth.

  “Allegra,” a deep voice rumbled behind me.

  I shrieked and spun on the spot, hand fluttering to my mouth then landing on my heart.

  Gabe stood just inside the doorway to the kitchen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Uh,” I said, then coughed a nervous laugh. “Ah, that’s okay. It’s okay.”

  He chuckled and stepped further into the room, smiling and tilting his head to one side. My insides instantly turned to the chocolate pudding that filled today’s feature, Dark Decadence.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, grasping the counter behind me for support. My head reeled and my heart raced. Why was he here? After so long?

  He was feet away, but already his heat had reached me and our connection was back. Electric. As strong as ever.

  “I had to see you.”

  “You didn’t call,” I shot out. Accusing. Like a toddler whining for a candy bar, on the verge of flinging themselves to the floor. It actually made me shake my head. I didn’t want to rely on him for emotional gratification, but I’d just done it.

  “I’m sorry; things have been a bit crazy lately.” Gabe walked up to me, then came even closer. So close our bodies were about an inch from touching. He reached up and cupped my cheek in his palm. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I murmured, licking my lips and staring at his. “If that were true, you would have called.” I tried to slip out from his grasp.

  He held me there, ran his hands down my neck and shoulders onto my arms and landed on my hips. “I’ve missed you, Allegra. I know you’re probably mad at me for running out on our date. It was an emergency. I can’t promise it won’t happen again. People sometimes have things come up.”

  “I’m not mad. I don’t feel anything,” I replied, injecting a little defiance into my words. I needed to not lose my mind around him. But damn it, that was a struggle and I was leaning towards losing the fight.

  The way he moved, the velvet tone of his voice, the way his eyes traveled over every inch of me made me want to lose everything. Inhibitions. Clothing. Especially my tenuous control.

  He rested his nose on my hairline and inhaled my scent. Man, I probably smelled like cupcake batter or the batch Tess had fried from this morning.

  “Gabe,” I groaned, drawing his name out. “This is too much. It’s not okay to feel this way.”

  “Why?” he demanded, finally stepping back. Confusion knit his features together.

  I half collapsed, holding myself up by sheer will and the stainless countertop. If that hadn’t been there, I really would’ve slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

  “Because it’s not normal.”

  “What’s not normal?”

  I rolled my eyes. Ah, the age old debate. “God, you’re missing my point, Gabe. This isn’t okay. The way you make me feel, it’s —”

  “How do I make you feel?” His voice deepened and he moved closer again. This time the fabric of his jeans touched mine. The barest whisper of contact.

  Drawing full breaths became a struggle. “Like I can’t think or get enough oxygen. I feel like you’ve wriggled your way into my head when we’ve probably had the equivalent of one broken conversation. I know nothing about you.”

  He nodded. “I get it. So go out with me again. Let me prove it’s not just chemistry. But, damn … the chemistry. It’s spellbinding. I can’t seem to extricate from its pull.”

  “No, this isn’t fair. You can’t tell me you’re going to call, then promptly act like I don’t exist. I’m not someone you can just push around.” I turned my back on him before he managed to slip his arms around me again and pin me in place. He had to understand I wasn’t just some toy to be played with and tossed aside, like he’d normally do to someone like me.

  But in spite of my outward appearance of strength, I wanted those arms. I wanted him to touch me and make me moan his name. I wanted his fingers to trail down my stomach, undo the button of my jeans and then touch me where I wanted it. Where I craved it.

  “I’m Gabe Moreno. I love real deep-dish pizza and cupcakes, especially ones with naughty names that taste as good as they look. Just like the woman who creates them. And I want to take that woman out again. I might even want to taste her again.”

  Okay, I had to admit it, the admission tugged at my heart strings. Unless it was another line of bullshit.

  I spun on the spot and rammed my fists on my hips.

  He stood there, unm
oving, watching me for a reaction. His body was angled towards mine, every part of him connected with me in some way. That didn’t even make sense.

  He hadn’t touched me with anything but fabric, but we were connected.

  I was officially crazy.

  “I’m Allegra Wilson, my mother’s a convict, serving life without parole in the Shakopee women’s prison, and I like to bake. Scratch that. I love to bake. I’m not going out with you again,” I said, firmly. Then, slapped a hand over my loose lips. I’d never intended to tell him about my mother. Something about him inspired me to act like an impulsive, emotional idiot.

  Gabe’s shoulders sagged as he stared at me, mouth agape. I waited for him to turn around and walk out the door. Walk out on me. He let out a low breath, nodded and didn’t disappoint. “All right. I get it.” He walked toward the kitchen door. But before his hand could touch the metal panel, he spun around and put his hands on his hips.

  “No, I’m not leaving.”

  “Why?” I stammered.

  “Because the status of your family means nothing. I don’t care if your mother, your father, and your second cousin twice removed are all in the super-max. They’re not you.” His defiant pose dared me to argue. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  “Okay,” I said, holding up a hand in surrender. “How about I bake for you, tonight, here. If you promise to tell me more about yourself.”

  I prayed to God I wouldn’t have to do any further familial explaining. Not tonight. And here, I could better control the situation. But … I wouldn’t let him kiss me again.

  I wouldn’t.

  He intrigued me with his unusual and unpredictable behavior, that was all. It had nothing to do with the way his eyes scanned by body as if he liked my curves. Every nuance, every peak and valley, devoured by his hungry gaze.

  Gabe grinned. Maybe because he looked forward to spending time with me. More likely because he’d won. Again. “What time?”