Page 7 of Sweet Hate (If You Dare #1)

HAVEN

W hipping up the icing for a batch of Funfetti cupcakes in Grams’ kitchen, I can’t help but let my mind wander back to how rigid and cold Axel looked in the diner.

It was probably the most awkward lunch I’ve sat through in my entire twenty-nine years on earth.

And believe me, I know awkward. I grew up feeling like I never really belonged anywhere.

Unless I was with him.

He was never cold before, and he never would’ve made someone feel uncomfortable, least of all me. Thats clearly not the case anymore. He’s been frostier than a snowman since I came back to town. What the hell is going on with him?

Thankfully I’m mostly over it now—moving back to London helped with that. It’s a lot easier to fake it till you make it when no one knows who you are.

But yesterday…yesterday was something else.

He only spoke when forced to by his mom, and most of the time his responses bordered on rude.

It was like having lunch with a petulant teenager—except he was never petulant even as a damn te enager, and I should know.

We spent most of our time alone together with both his parents and Grams working full time.

Make that make sense.

I’ve run into Axel a total of three times in the four days I’ve been back, and with the exception of that one tiny glimpse of the old him in the store, he’s been this grumpy gargoyle of a man I don’t recognize.

I just wish I knew what happened to him.

He seemed fine the day I left. He promised me he'd visit and that we’d talk every day.

Then, nothing, nada, zilch. Not a fucking word.

I remember Grams telling me he’d started seeing someone not long after, so I figured he had some bird in the wings and got too busy for me.

That bloody hurt. I believed him when he told me nothing would change.

Losing him had been like losing a limb. The only person I ever wanted to speak to, whether things were good or bad, was gone. Zero explanation.

The day I left on that plane was the day our friendship died. To hear he was hanging out with some cow while I was at Dad’s crying my fucking eyes out grieving his loss for weeks was the final straw.

I told both Grams and Mia I didn’t want to hear his name ever again after that.

We clearly had wildly different views when it came to nothing changing. Best friends for life , my fucking ass.

I beat the icing harder, pretending it’s his smug stupid face until it’s smooth and fluffy. The icing, not his face. Obviously.

Swiping a spoon through the rainbow-streaked goodness, I pop it in my mouth. Perfect. Avoiding the urge to comfort eat the entire bowl, I distract myself by piping it onto the now-cooled cupcakes.

There. Done.

Mentally ticking the first job off my list, I give myself a pat on the back .

Now on to job number two.

Speaking to the handyman who lives above the bakery now it’s been cleared for repairs.

According to Grams, I can bribe him with Funfetti cupcakes to assess the damage. And I mean, he lives above it so surely, he’ll give a shit. Hopefully.

The faster we can get work started, the better. There is no way I can make the Merryweather wedding cakes without the bakery, and the longer the bakery is out of commission, the more anxious I see myself getting.

And I really don’t want to start regretting my life choices.

Coming back was my choice, and I want it to be a good one.

When the Merryweather’s reached out, I hesitated until I spoke to Grams. She needed the help, plus I kinda wanted Sweet Haven to see the real Haven.

The girl who grew a pair of balls since she left.

They might shrivel on the odd occasion, but don’t all balls shrink when they get scared? It’s biology.

Now, as I stare up the stairway to the handyman’s apartment, I mentally yank on my big girl panties and climb up, wielding my rainbow bribe.

Taking a deep breath, I press the doorbell and wait. I can hear music from somewhere inside, so at least he’s home. Except, a couple of minutes pass and no one comes to the door.

Ugh. Of course.

I press the bell again, a few times in quick succession. If anyone’s inside, they should hear it over the music, right? Hopefully they really, really love cupcakes enough to overlook my obnoxious door ringing.

But shit. Nothing.

Crouching, I rifle through my purse for something to leave a note on when the door jerks open. Two big bare feet appear in my field of vision before my eyes trail up to gray sweats.

Sweet baby Jesus .

You know what they say about gray sweats, and well, this guy confirms the theory with the generous size of his… package .

One I probably spend a second too long staring at before my eyes continue their exploration.

He has sex lines .

Probably not the technical term, but you know that sexy V that points to his Crown Jewels. Yes, that, and sweet mother, he has abs you can cut glass with.

Oh shit .

Abs that clearly just got out of the shower, judging by all the water drops trailing down. And I’m down here perving like I’m watching Magic Mike on stage in Vegas.

Jesus Haven .

Scrambling to my feet, I grab the cupcake box like I’ve not been crouching down here staring at his cock, probably flashing him too.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I’m so sorry, I?—”

The words die on my tongue when my eyes clash with icy blue ones.

Yep. You guessed it. Familiar ones.

I shit you not.

Grams could have mentioned who the hell lived here. We’re going to need to have words if she’s meddling. Why would she send me here? He’s a fireman, he can’t be the handyman too. Maybe he has a roommate? That’s got to be it.

“You seem to be apologizing a lot lately.” His cold, clipped tone makes my blood boil, and I steel myself to deal with his bullshit. I’m not the same girl he once knew, and while every time I’ve seen him so far, I’ve made a giant tit of myself, it doesn’t mean it has to continue. Nope.

“Well, yes. At least I know how to apologize. Unlike some.”

Yep. Nailed that.

I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, as I was saying…I’m sorry for disturbing you. I was just wondering if your roommate’s around. Grams said he was a handyman who likes cupcakes.”

He’s looking between me and the cupcakes I just shoved into his hands with a totally blank expression on his face. That doesn't fill me with confidence.

“I live alone.”

Right. okay. Unexpected.

“Is there more than one apartment up here?”

I glance around the corridor behind me to see if I missed another front door, but there’s nothing but the stairs leading out to the parking lot.

“No.”

Jesus. He makes a wall look chatty.

Heaving out a frustrated sigh, I try to pry the box of cupcakes back out of his grip, but he’s holding on tight.

“Right, okay. Well, as riveting as this conversation has been, Verona, there’s obviously been some sort of misunderstanding. Grams told me there was a handyman living above the bakery. Maybe she’s gotten a little confused. Don’t worry, I’ll head out.”

“What do you want with him?”

Barely suppressing a sigh, I look up at him. I don’t know what games this twat is playing, but I don’t have time for them.

“Well, there’s the tiny issue of the damaged bakery below. You know, the fire you showed up too late to put out? We figured it might be best to fix that up before we try to reopen. Hence the handyman.”

He lets out a derisive snort. “What? Something your city boyfriend can’t come out and fix? I thought he loved to nail things.”

City boyfriend, nailing things, huh?. The “thing” being me…the nerve of this clown thinking he’s so clever. Clearly he’s inhaled too much smoke.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.

It’s not your concern who nailed what. Last I checked, your specialty is running into burning buildings.

not repairing them. If you know this handyman, have him call me.

If not, it’s fine, I’ll track him down myself.

You can keep the cupcakes. A little sugar might cheer your grumpy ass up. ”

With that, I spin on my heel, satisfaction coursing through me.

I boss bitched that.

Of course, the twat can’t leave it there.

“Sorry to inform you that the handyman is busy. Indefinitely.”

Axel’s cold clipped tone draws me short, and I spin back around to face him. There’s a set to his jaw I know well. He could be a stubborn little shit at times, and apparently, he didn’t grow out of it.

“Let me guess, you’re the handyman?”

A stupid grin spreads across his handsome face as he braces an arm on the door frame, causing those damn abs to ripple.

I can’t contain the shiver that runs through me at the sight.

Why did he have to turn into some rippling Herculean sex god just begging to be licked?

Goddamnit, no.

Traitorous body. The hussy.

Clearly, I need to get laid. Not by this idiot, I might add.

Bollocks, somehow, we’re practically nose to nose. I’m not sure if I was drawn to him in an ab drunk haze or if his belligerent ass moved toward me, but this chump isn’t going to intimidate me.

He must have forgotten that I refuse to back down from a dare.

“That's real mature of you, Verona. I can see you’ve grown into a fine, upstanding gentleman. A real pillar of the community. ”

A wicked smirk spreads across his face.

“Baby, there’s nothing about me that grew up to be a gentleman.”

The lack of space between us makes his damn words even more potent. Why does it suddenly feel hot in here? This weird reaction to him and his body parts needs to stop. Really, I want nothing more than to smack that stupid smirk off his face.

“Yeah, I see that. The regression is real. I’m not sure if it’s too much smoke inhalation or too many hours in the gym, but you might want to get that checked.”

His eyes burn as he stares me down. His brow quirks, and I zero in on his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. That one tiny move has my heart rate kicking up a notch as his eyes drop to my lips.

Oh my God, I know that look.

Excitement wars with defiance in my gut. I don’t know what I want anymore. My brain and my body are locked in a battle of wills leaving me frozen under the assault of his freshly-showered scent. At least from this vantage point, I can see his chest heaving, so I know he’s not entirely unaffected.

Good. Bring it, asshole.

If I’m going down, I’m taking him with me.

He leans even closer, running his nose along the length of mine.

My breath catches in my throat, my whole body nearly combusting.

No wonder he’s a damn firefighter. With the heat he’s packing he has to be.

And I can confirm based on firsthand experience, that he knows how to use his hose.

Pressing his forehead to mine sends me spiraling, the feel of his warm skin touching mine almost intoxicating.

Until he opens that damn mouth again.

“I don’t think you heard me over the cogs turning in that pretty little head of yours, Hurricane. The handyman is busy. Indefinitely. Find someone else.”

The door slam that follows is both rude and unnecessary.

The cupcake thievery is criminal.

I turn on my heel and stomp down the stairs, but I won’t let him get the last word, no sir.

“I hope you choke on them, Verona.”