Page 22 of Bad Boy Bakers, Vol. 2

“That’s not necessary. We’ve got it.” But Rebecca’s smile took any sting out of the refusal. She began walking toward the door, and he recognized it was time to leave.

“Thanks for having me.” He shrugged into his coat. “It was nice not to spend the day alone, and good to see the family you’ve built. It’s a great one.”

“It is. They’re great kids.” She hesitated for a moment, then leaned in for a hug.

On a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, soaking in the comfort he hadn’t felt in all these years, other than the fleeting greeting she’d offered at the bakery last month.

God, he’d missed everything about this. About her.

She fit. Even after all these years, she fit.

And the electric connection between them was still alive and well.

She pulled back, scooping a hand through her hair. “It’s been great to see you.”

“You, too. Merry Christmas, Rebel.”

His last sight, as he trotted down her front walk, was of Rebecca framed in the doorway, arms folded against the cold, her cheeks pink, her hair stirring in the winter breeze. She was still there as he slid into his car. He lifted a hand in one last wave and started the engine.

He might have fucked up his first chance with her all those years ago, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to screw up the second.

“I love the holidays, but I’m so glad they’re over.” Jolene Lowrey punctuated the statement with a gusty sigh as Rebecca dug her fingers in for a thorough scalp massage while working shampoo through Jolene’s hair.

“Are they over, though? There’s always that sense of not quite resolved to me until after New Year’s” Then again, Rebecca knew her own sense of anticipation this week had nothing to do with waiting for the clock to run down on this year.

“Fair enough, but all the family’s gone home. I dearly love seeing them, but I’m always so glad to get my quiet back. My tolerance for chaos seems to go down every year.”

Rebecca laughed. “I’m still happy enough to enjoy the chaos.”

From across the shop, her business partner Candice looked up from the color she was applying to Jana Samson’s roots. “You had a houseful this year, didn’t you?”

Rebecca wrung out Jolene’s hair and wrapped it in a towel, nudging her toward the chair at her station. “Oh yeah. Everybody was here for Rory’s first Christmas. And of course, I consider Holt and Brax mine now, too, so they came in for dinner with their wives and kids. And Donna came, too.”

She didn’t mention the extra addition they’d had, but she’d sure as hell had Grey on her mind in all the days since, despite efforts to distract herself.

“It was wonderful to have the house full of people, so it’ll be another week or so before I’m grateful for the quiet.

Sam and Griff headed home with the baby this morning.

And Jonah and Rachel left for Syracuse the day after Christmas, to go spend some time with her family. ”

“Oh, how’s the wedding planning going?” Jana asked.

Considering her daughter had gotten married in Vegas, and Jonah and Rachel wanted something small and intimate, Rebecca considered herself lucky that she hadn’t had dreams of a big, ostentatious white wedding.

God knew, she hadn’t had that herself when she’d married Lonnie all those years ago.

So long as everyone was happy, that was the only thing that mattered to her.

She combed out Jolene’s hair and began the trim the older woman had come in for. “It’s more or less settled. They’re opting for a small ceremony down here. Mostly family and friends. We’ve got right at a month to go.”

As everyone continued to discuss the wedding, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering whether Grey would still be in Eden’s Ridge by then.

Jonah had mentioned he was renting a house somewhere in town.

By all accounts, he was some version of back, but Rebecca didn’t know what that meant or what it would look like, or even what to think about it.

She didn’t know what to think about that moment after dinner, with the Christmas crackers and the stupid fish.

The air had felt electric, alive with memories she’d done her best to bury.

How she’d made it through the rest of the night, she didn’t know.

Some credit for that had to go to Rachel, who’d successfully distracted everyone with the rest of the Christmas crackers.

She wondered whether her future daughter-in-law had picked up on the tension or if it had been simply a lucky break.

The entire interaction had made her feel spotlit.

As if there were a blinking neon sign above their heads announcing Former Lovers.

That wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with her children.

But it had been impossible not to think about what it would feel like if he touched her.

To wonder if he’d taste the same, or if memory had gilded reality with nostalgia.

One thing was for damned sure—the man had far more potency than he’d possessed at eighteen.

If he elected to point that in her direction again, she wasn’t sure she could resist him. She didn’t think she’d want to try.

The bell jangled as someone pushed open the door. Focus still on Jolene’s trim, she called out, “Be with you in a minute.”

Candice cleared her throat.

Rebecca looked up, checking the mirror to see who’d walked in.

Her heart stuttered as she spotted Grey standing in the entryway.

Almost as one, every woman in the shop sat up and took notice.

And why shouldn’t they? He was a fine specimen of a man, with those broad shoulders and that firm jaw.

And when was the last time she’d noticed anything about a man beyond the cursory?

Because her hand felt weak, she dropped it, lest she inadvertently give Jolene a new style she hadn’t asked for.

Aware her pulse had kicked up with surprise and anticipation, she turned to face him fully.

Of what she couldn’t say, but every atom of her body was attuned to him.

Because of that focus, she picked up on the slight stiffness in his posture, the wariness in his gaze. “Grey?”

Good Lord. Was she ever going to be able to greet him with more than just his name?

“Hey, Rebel. I wasn’t sure if you took walk-ins or not.” Those hazel eyes zeroed in on her, as if he didn’t even notice all the other people in the room.

Her brain short-circuited, and she had no idea what to say.

Candice eased over, nudging her with an elbow. “Yes, she does.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to inform him she needed to finish with Jolene, but Candice simply slipped the scissors from her fingers.

“You go on and take care of him. I’ve got Mrs. Lowrey. That’s okay, right, hon?”

“Oh, yes,” Jolene agreed.

Rebecca had the ridiculous thought that she should charge admission for this show. Swallowing hard, she searched for some professionalism. “Okay then. What are you looking for?”

He scooped a hand through his hair, causing the silver to catch the light. Damn, that worked for him. Her fingers itched to follow that path, to explore the feel and texture of how his hair had changed. He’d always had the best hair. Thick and soft and fun to play with.

“It’s getting kind of long. I figured you could do a little cleanup.”

Her lips curved. “You consider this long?” Back in high school, he’d had a ponytail, to the eternal horror of his parents.

With a self-conscious laugh, he came further into the shop, shrugging off his coat. “I left my pirate days behind a while ago. I got used to short hair in the Navy.”

“Come on back. I’ll wet you down.”

He trailed her to the shampoo sink, sitting where she indicated and leaning his head back into the bowl.

Because she could, she indulged herself, skimming her fingers through the strands.

The texture was a little different. That was the nature of gray hair.

But the bulk of it was still soft, still thick. Cutting too much off would be a crime.

Grey sighed at the touch, visibly relaxing under her hands and closing his eyes.

For the first time, she wondered what weights he carried.

Jonah had come back from his service with his fair share of darkness.

Grey had been in for so much longer, finishing a full career, working his way up the ranks.

How much of the things he’d seen and done now lived in his head, in his bones?

Wanting to lessen some of that burden, Rebecca turned on the water, wetting down his hair and working her fingers through to rub his scalp.

So many people enjoyed the head massage that went along with washing hair.

She’d performed exactly this service countless times in her career.

But it had never felt this intimate before.

As she began to work shampoo to a lather, he groaned.

The soft, low sound of pleasure reached inside her, unlocking and igniting a whole host of memories she’d been trying hard not to think about.

Yep, she needed to finish this part, cut his hair, and scoot him on out of the shop so she could find her equilibrium again.

Drawing on all her professionalism, she rinsed his hair and draped a towel along the back of his neck. “Just head on over to that chair, there.” She’d borrow Candice’s station for this, since Jana was under the dryer just now.

Grey lowered himself into the chair, meeting her eyes again in the mirror. Nope. She couldn’t keep catching glimpses of those eyes and wondering what the hell he was thinking. So she turned the chair away from the mirror.

“Do you trust me?”

He waited a beat too long to reply. “Always.”

Choosing not to analyze what he might’ve meant by that, she grabbed her scissors and comb and went to work.

It was easier to lose herself in the job, to simply focus on shape and lines, and what would best accent that wonderful face.

He stayed silent through the whole process, letting her do her thing, and she was grateful.

The girls would have enough to talk about after he left, without him inadvertently revealing more about their past.

Crouching partly in front of him, she angled his head this way and that, checking her work.

Satisfied with the end result, she straightened.

With brisk, efficient movements, she brushed the hair off his neck and shoulders and removed the cape before turning him to face the mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think you should have dinner with me.”

If she’d been holding a bottle of product, she’d have bobbled it. “What?”

“Have dinner with me so we can have a proper catch up without the risk of spilling secrets to your kids.” His eyes glinted with humor. “Since apparently they have no idea what a wild child you used to be.”

It was a terrible idea. Some part of her knew that. But her brain was blanking on a reason to refuse. At least any she could admit to in front of an audience.

When she said nothing, he lifted a brow. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

Candice spoke up from the shampoo bowl, where she’d taken Jana to rinse off her color. “Nope. She’s completely free.”

Rebecca shot her a Look. Really? Did she have to say it like that? As if she didn’t have an actual life or options?

But it was the truth. She couldn’t think of a single reason to say no.

And there was a part of her that wanted what he offered.

The chance to actually talk to him, away from the kids.

Away from everybody else. They needed to clear the air.

She needed to apologize for the things she said in anger back when they’d last seen each other.

With whatever shreds of dignity she could muster, she folded the cape. “I find myself with the evening free.”

He shoved up from the chair and turned to face her, stepping close enough she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Fine. See you then.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up as he dropped several bills on the corner of her station. “See you tomorrow, Rebel.”

The women in the shop at least waited until he was out of view of the front window before they broke into a collective squee.

“Girl! Who is that gorgeous hunk of man?” Candice wanted to know. “You obviously know each other.”

“Oh, that’s Mitchell Greyson,” Jolene said. “I went to church with his parents back in the day, before they moved. That was a long time ago, though.”

“More than thirty years,” Rebecca murmured. “We were friends a long time ago.”

“Looks like he’s got more than friends on his mind now,” Candice crowed.

“And you’ve got a date with him for New Year’s Eve?” Jana asked. “Lucky girl.”

“Wait. What? Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve?” Rebecca turned back to the window, as if her will alone was enough to draw him back.

A date on New Year’s came with a certain expectation. Didn’t it? It was bigger. More important, somehow.

She thought of that half smirk. He’d known it, too. Damn him.

Well, it was too late now. She didn’t have his number, and she wouldn’t call Jonah to try to get it from him. Not on pain of death. She’d just have to suck it up and deal.

Stepping toward the mirror, she inspected her roots. The silver accents might look great on him, but she wasn’t quite ready to bow to Mother Nature yet. “Candice, do you have time to squeeze me in to touch up my roots?”

“Girl, I will make time. But here’s the better question: What on earth are you going to wear?”