Page 8 of The Secret Heir Next Door

Then I see her. She is behind the counter, rearranging some jars. Her hair is a riot of dark curls, with streaks of pink and purple throughout it, all piled into two messy pigtail buns on top of her head, with a few strands escaping to frame her face. She’s wearing a simple bright pink dress with a candy-themed apron, and there’s a smudge of powdered sugar on her cheek. I didn’t notice it before, but there are colorful tattoos on both arms.

There’s something undeniably attractive about her, a mixture of confidence and warmth that draws me in.

Her eyes lock onto mine as I approach, and I see her stiffen in defense.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice sharp. “Are you about to tell me that I’m not allowed to breathe the same air as you?”

I hold up the coffee. “I brought you this. As a peace offering.”

She crosses her arms, looking skeptical. “No thanks. I don’t take bribes.”

“It’s not a bribe. It’s an olive branch.”

“We’ll haveto agree to disagree on that,” she snaps as she turns back around. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to ask you to leave. Your energy is so dark that it’s polluting my shop. I don’t want my customers to be greeted by a black wall when they walk in. Have the day you deserve, sir!”

Energy?

What in the hell?

Did she just dismiss me?

“Your customers probably have to do a double-take when they walk in to make sure they didn’t walk back into preschool.”

Okay, that was lame.

Why am I being such an ass to her?

I draw in a long breath. “I’m sorry. It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m going to set this down here and…” I set the coffee down on the counter.

She whips around, grabs the counter to keep her balance, and slams her hand against the cup of coffee, sending it splashing all over me. Again.

I groan inwardly.

Should I start wearing a rain slicker when I’m around her?

If she’d organized this place better, she wouldn’t have tripped over an open jar of gummy bears.

My eyes flit up to hers and I see how embarrassed and nervous she is.Ten, nine, eight—I count before speaking.

She’s not an intern. She’s not an employee. She’s a human being who made a mistake.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

She bites her bottom lip and glances down at the ground. For whatever reason, I find it extremely sexy, and I feel my pants tighten.

“It’s okay, accidents happen. Maybe you shouldn’t store jars on the ground, though,” I chuckle awkwardly as I peek at the other side of the counter.

She blushes, and her eyes flash at me. “Thanks for the input. You can send me the dry-cleaning bill—again.”

She reaches under the counter, grabs some napkins, and pushes them toward me.

“These aren’t goingto do anything,” I laugh as I push them back.

“Pardon me, kind sir, for not knowing better,” she says sarcastically while holding a hand over her heart.

Her tone rubs me wrong.

“I see that a peace offering is pointless when dealing with a child.”