Page 79 of Only for the Season

But then I notice the time on the clock. I need to start baking. I will show him. After the morning baking is done.

I’m elbow deep in brioche dough when the back door to the kitchen opens. I don’t need to look to know Jeremy has arrived. His sandalwood scent gives him away.

“Let me get this bread in the oven and then we’ll talk.”

“Shit.” He rubs a hand over his unshaved jaw. “You found out.”

“Yes, I found out. Even people who live on Podunk islands have accountants.”

“I’ve apologized for the Podunk comment.”

“Apologizing doesn’t mean I forgot.”

I stab a finger at him. Unfortunately, I’m holding a pastry brush which is loaded with melted butter. Melted butter flies everywhere. In my face. In my hair. On my table. Naturally, it doesn’t touch Jeremy. Mr. Untouchable Billionaire who enjoys throwing his money around.

The door to the café swings open.

“Did you…” Cindy trails off when she notices Jeremy. She glares at him. “What did you do?”

“Cindy. Please return to the café.”

“No. If this asshole hurt you, I won’t stand for it.”

My eyes widen. Cindy is twenty years old, shorter than me, and weighs half what I do. And yet she’s standing here glaring at Jeremy as if she’s ready to rumble.

He holds up his hands. “I didn’t hurt her.”

Cindy ignores him and raises an eyebrow at me.

“He’s an idiot, but he didn’t hurt me.”

“There are more ways to hurt a person than physically.”

Judging by the look on her face, she knows this from personal experience. I don’t know her well – she’s merely filling in for Holly this morning – but it’s time I had a sit-down with her.

“I appreciate your concern, Cindy. I promise you. Jeremy didn’t hurt me physically or mentally. He’s merely an idiot.”

She studies me for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if I hear yelling, I’m calling the police.”

“What happened to her?” Jeremy asks once she’s gone.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

“Let me know if I need to bang any heads together.”

As if he’ll be around. I finish brushing the dough with egg wash, place the tin in the oven, and set the timer for thirty minutes.

“Now.” I whirl around and plant my hands on my hips. “Where were we?”

Jeremy opens his mouth to answer but I hold up a hand to stop him.

“I remember. It’s time for me to rip you a new asshole for paying a year’s rent on the loft.”

He cringes. “I just…”

I wag my finger at him. “Tut. Tut. Tut. It’s not your turn to speak yet. You spoke loud enough when you deposited the money without telling me. After procuring a promise from me to stay in the loft as long as you’d paid the rent. Knowing full well I would never make such a promise if I knew you’d paid for a year.”

“I can’t stand you living in that hellhole of an apartment.”