Page 12 of Sweet Hate (If You Dare #1)
HAVEN
I t's been three days since #floorgate, and the only sign that Axel is here is the noise coming from the sealed off kitchen.
Yep, sealed off.
I came in the next day to find plastic sheeting closing off the connecting door. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he means fuck you, keep out . Well, fuck him. It’s my bakery, I can walk in there whenever I damn well please.
But I won’t.
I don’t want to see his stupid face right now either. I don’t know what just happened, but I sure as shit know none of it was my fault.
He’s the one who came in hot, not me.
Super freakin’ hot.
I am so done.
Blood boiling I drink some ice water, reining in my raging emotions to focus on writing my to do list.
Just as I manage to calm myself down, I hear him yell from the depths of his lair.
“Fuck! ”
Awwww, he doesn’t sound happy. Ha. Karma can be such a bitch. A smirk creeps up my face, but it almost immediately falls away when my phone chimes with a message.
His name flashing up on my phone reignites the fire in my veins, my hands fisting in familiar anger. Funny how he can text me from the kitchen but couldn’t be bothered to answer my messages when I left.
Axel
We have a problem.
Oh bollocks, his bad Karma isn’t supposed to affect me. I’ve not done jack shit to deserve it.
Me
We’ve got a few of those. You being one of them. What is it now?
Axel
You should probably take a look.
Me
I can’t. The area has been sealed off to contain an unwanted biohazard. I’d rather not risk exposure.
Axel
Ha ha. Come round back, I’ll let you in.
This guy hasn’t said two words to me since he ran away, he can wait. I think I’ve reached my quota of bullshit for the week.
Me
This number is no longer in service.
Axel
Very fucking funny Haven. Get back here.
Me
Axel Verona, where are your manners? I KNOW your mother taught you better than this. Don’t make me tattle.
Axel
Hurricane, don’t toy with me. I’m not in the mood.
Me
Yes. It seems you’re never in the mood these days. Who pissed in your Cheerios?
Axel
You, evidently.
Me
Mmm, pee play isn’t really my vibe. You should know that.
Axel
Haven, please.
Me
Pretty please with cherries on top?
Axel
There’s only ever been one cherry I was particularly fond of.
Me
Hell no. You did not go there.
Axel
Two can play this game Haven so stop screwing around. Now get back here, this is serious.
Furious, I storm round back, taking a deep breath to steel myself for more of his bullshit.
I find Axel leaning against the wall, scowling down at his phone.
Good, he’s annoyed. That makes two of us .
Taking a second to study him while he’s distracted isn’t the most sensible idea. He’s wearing a partially open red and black flannel shirt framing solid abs which disappear into obscenely low-slung jeans.
The temptation to lick his abs like a popsicle is real. He literally looks like my Montana mountain man fantasy in real life.
Thank’s Gemma Weir for putting those ideas into my head with your books.
I’m torn between asking him to carry me off to have his wicked way with me or slapping him stupid for how he’s acted since the other day.
It was definitely safer on the other side of that door. I’d think he dressed like this to mess with me, but there is no way he knows about my mountain men. The book he saw me with wasn’t one of those so it would be impossible unless he swiped my kindle.
Bracing myself, I cross my arms and quirk a brow, pretending I’ve not spent the last few seconds eye fucking him.
“You summoned me, sir?”
Visibly swallowing, his eyes widen, burning with what looks like desire, when he turns and catches sight of me in the doorway. I’m meeting Mia tonight so I’m not in my usual yoga pants, and his slow perusal of my body tells me he’s not entirely unaffected by the tight denim dress I’m wearing.
I can’t help the grin stretching across my face at his reaction. Of course, the grumpy twat notices and immediately stands up rigidly crossing his arms.
Holy Forearms.
Gah, no, I will not be distracted by veiny hot forearms, when he’s staring at me like he just sucked on a lemon.
“Hurricane, nice of you to finally grace me with your presence,” He cocks an eyebrow of his own in response.
Oh, it's on.
“I don’t follow your orders, Fireman. ”
“Careful Hurricane. That attitude’s gonna get you in deep.”
Oh hell no.
I immediately want to smack the cocky smirk off his smug face.
“Good. I like it deep. Too bad you’re more comfortable in the shallows.”
That startles a laugh out of him, both of us inexplicably closer to each other than where we started—it’s like we’re two magnets—how does this shit keep happening? I don’t remember moving. Did I?
He shakes his head, stepping back and turning to face the torn apart kitchen.
“Haven, we have a problem.”
“Yes, it seems we have a few of those. Your bad attitude being one”.
He side eyes me, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“That sassy mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day,” he rumbles out, the low, deep tone doing unspeakable things to my panties.
“That’s half the fun. Besides, there was a time you appreciated my mouth, sassy or otherwise.”
Growling, he grabs my hand and drags me further into the kitchen.
Damn, I guess playtime’s over then.
“The fire didn’t start because of a faulty oven, Haven.
The appliance itself wasn’t the issue. The wiring is.
We’re looking at having to rewire the entire bakery.
The whole place is a fire waiting to happen.
I don’t know who the hell installed all this, but Grams is lucky this place didn’t blow years ago. ”
Shit, that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.
“All of it? You’re sure?”
“I checked the other sockets and lighting. Opened up the wall to check some of the internal wiring too. I’m so sorry, baby. It’s everything. ”
Baby? My eye twitches at the endearment. Does he realize he just called me that? I sneak a look at him out of the corner of my eye, but he’s just staring rigidly ahead.
Uhhh, but why are we still holding hands?
“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that,” I blurt, tugging my hand away. “What does this mean? Can you fix it? How long will it take?”
Instantly I regret yanking my hand out of his, apparently that was the only thing keeping me relatively calm.
Now my mind has gone full blind panic mode, thoughts immediately racing with what ifs.
Meanwhile Axel just stands there, staring at my hands.
He snaps out of whatever trance he was in, the tension rolling off him in waves as he runs a hand through his hair.
Well, that’s not helping. I don’t like him looking anxious. That’s my role for God’s sake. I’ve got nothing, all words forgotten in the cold, hard light of the latest shitshow to land at my feet.
If the kitchen isn’t repaired, how the hell am I going to be able to make the Merryweather wedding cakes? Do I need to cancel and face their wrath?
Shit. I really, really don’t want to have to do that.
“I need to get an electrician in. I can do a lot of it, but the heavy rewiring needs to be done by someone certified. I don’t wanna take any chances with you and Grams being in here.”
Deep breaths. In and out. In and out.
“OK, how long will that take?”
“I left Lucas a voicemail. Remember him? He’s a damn good electrician, and I’m sure he’ll do us a solid. Once he comes around, I’ll be able to give you a firmer timeline.”
“Of course I remember him. That would be great. The Merryweather wedding is in just over a month. Will we at least have the kitchen operational by then?”
“I am going to do everything I can to try and get it done for you, ba—Haven. I promise you.” His mouth says one thing, but his face says another. I know him well enough to pick up on his tells.
He’s worried it won’t be.
So now what?
If it’s not done in time, I have no option but to cancel the order.
Not only will I feel like a total asshole letting them down at the eleventh hour, but it will also spell out career suicide for me locally, not to mention putting an end to any hope I have of staying here to run this place for Grams.
The Merryweather’s have the money and the power to get another cake sorted, but they won’t be understanding of the situation.
If I thought I felt like an outcast before, that’ll be nothing compared to what it’ll be like if I cancel.
No one will choose to support the bakery that messed up with the Merryweather family, no matter how much they like Grams. It's just not done around here.
I’d have no option but to go back to London.
This is bad. Really bloody bad.