Page 13 of Mountain Daddy (Broken Boss Daddies #1)

NIKOLAI

I 'm waiting when she opens the bakery.

Seven a.m. sharp.

I've been here since six, leaning against the brick wall across the street. Watching. Learning her patterns.

She unlocks the front door. Flips the sign from “Closed” to “Open.”

She moves with routine, doing, not thinking. From a place of necessity, from a hard life without a second to spare.

She hasn't seen me yet. She’s too focused on getting through her morning checklist. Turning on the lights. Starting the coffee. Checking the display case.

I study her face through the window. The stress lines that weren't there five years ago. She’s been raising Chleo alone .

It’s bound to take a toll on a woman.

She could’ve come to me. Told me. Trusted me.

But she didn’t.

And ever since I laid eyes on that boy—with my eyes, my scowl, my fire—I haven’t been able to stop thinking one thing.

Ours.

Mine.

What should’ve been.

The thought still hits like a punch to the chest. I've had all night to process it, and it's no less devastating in daylight.

The question is why she ran. Why she kept him from me.

Lilly disappears into the back. Emerges with a tray of fresh scones. Sets them in the display case.

That's when she sees me.

Her hands freeze on the glass door. Her face goes pale.

I push off the wall. Cross the street. The bell chimes when I enter.

“Good morning, Lilly.”

She straightens, but her composure slips. “We're closed.”

I glance around. “Looks open to me.”

“Nikolai.” She sighs. “Go someplace else.”

“All I want is a coffee. You do sell coffee, don’t you?”

She stares at me. Those hazel eyes searching for my angle. Smart girl.

“What kind do you want?”

“Coffee. Black. No sugar.”

She begins to prepare the pot, but the truth is, I want something else entirely.

I want to know why she disappeared. Want to understand how she could keep my son from me for five years.

But I also want to help her. Want to fix whatever's broken in her world.

The dichotomy should confuse me. Instead, it clarifies everything.

Her hands shake as she fills my cup.

“Careful,” I murmur. “Don't want another wine incident.”

Her cheeks flush.

The coffee sloshes as she sets it down.

I take a sip. It's good. Rich. Better than anything I've had in Chicago.

“You're talented,” I say. “The coffee. The scones. All of it.”

“Thank you.” Wary. Waiting for the trap.

“Shame you're losing the place.”

Her shoulders tense. “I told you. Business is slow.”

“Fifteen thousand.” I set the cup down. Lean against the counter. “That's what you owe.”

“It's not your problem.”

“I'd like to make it my solution.”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “I don't need your help.”

“Your pride won't feed your son.”

The words hit her like a slap. She flinches.

“What if I don’t want your help?” she hisses with anger, having been hurt.

“But you do need help, don’t you?” I ask simply. “I can get you suppliers. Renovate. Expand. Make Sugar and Spice something this town actually lines up for.”

“Why?” Her voice is small. Sharp. “Why the hell would you care?”

Because I walked in yesterday and saw our son.

Because I haven’t slept since.

Because the sight of him nearly brought me to my knees.

I don’t say any of that.

Instead, “I’m investing in clean businesses. Laying down roots.”

Her eyes widen. “You can't be serious.”

“I don't joke about business.”

“People don't just hand out business investments to waitresses they slept with.”

“No,” I agree. “They don't.”

“So why are you here? Really?”

The question I've been expecting. The one I've been preparing for.

“I'm looking into legitimate investments.” The lie slides out smooth as silk. “Things with good cash flow and community connections. Your bakery would fit right in.”

She stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

“Clean businesses,” she repeats slowly.

“Clean money. Clean books. Clean reputation.”

Her laugh is sharp. “Since when do you care about clean anything?”

Since I killed a man and brought heat down on myself. Because Chicago went to hell and I need a place to lay low in.

Because I found you again.

“People change,” I say instead.

“Do they?” She crosses her arms. “Because the man I saw in that alley didn't look like he’d want to settle into Fern Hills and take on a bakery to expand.”

There it is. The real reason she ran.

She's afraid of me.

She should be.

“That was work,” I tell her. “This is different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because this is about you.”

The words hang between us like a lit fuse. Her breathing quickens. Pupils dilate.

Even afraid, she wants me. I can smell it. The same heat that's been burning between us since Table 9.

“I can't.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I can't get involved with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because people around you die.” The words come out harsh. Raw. “And I have a son to raise.”

Her son.

My son.

The truth sits between us like a grenade with the pin pulled.

“He's a good kid,” I say carefully. “Smart.”

“He is.” Pride creeps into her voice. “He's everything to me.”

“Must be hard. Raising him alone.”

Her face hardens. “I manage.”

“I'm sure you do. But it doesn't have to be that way.”

“What are you saying?”

I finish my coffee. Set the cup down and let my eyes meet hers.

“Who's the daddy?”