Page 14 of The Call of Azure (Unexpected Love #3)

Liam

It’s late by the time I manage to leave the bakery, nearly four in the afternoon.

It’s just been one of those days. Twenty minutes into the start of my day, before the first batch of dough for tomorrow’s bread was even finished, one of my two large stand mixers broke down.

I then managed to burn an entire batch of cookies while I was trying to figure out how to fix it myself using online videos and luck.

Not a tray, a batch. Every single one of today’s double chocolate cookies transformed into little charcoal discs that could easily be used as rustic, homemade, organic ninja stars.

The bottom fell out of a box of new glasses that shattered all over the kitchen, and one of today’s custom birthday cakes - an order I never should have accepted because the client was not a very nice person from our very first conversation - was somehow “nowhere near” what they asked for.

Even though it looked exactly like the picture they provided when they placed the order, of course that meant they caused a scene for no reason other than to try and get a discount.

Fortunately, Lilith is spectacular at her job and managed to diffuse the situation far better than I ever could have.

Sometimes the universe just isn’t on our side, and there is nothing to be done other than take stock of it all and move on.

Clearly, today it’s my turn to incur the universe’s unwarranted wrath since it’s done everything possible to keep me hours past my normal exit time and push me until I’m afraid I’m going to fall apart.

It’s taking absolutely everything I have to remember how to breathe and take steps and not have a full-on breakdown three whole feet from the door where my employees and customers and random folks on the street will be able to see me.

I need the safety of my apartment or the sound of the tide or the caress of cool water.

I know there’s no way I’ll get to any of those things in time, but I need…

something. Something to anchor me to the here and now.

Something to remind me that the acrid scent of sweat and iron and gunpowder is in my mind, not my nose.

Something to remind me that my hands are dry and clean, not gritty and torn and slick with blood.

Something to overwhelm my senses until I have no choice but to focus on the beat of my heart and the fact that I’m here.

I’m alive. Even if sometimes I don’t think that’s fair.

But there’s nothing. There’s nothing for me to cling to, and I’m so close to the edge.

So close to losing myself to the past that I’m not sure even the deepest of oceans can help me anymore in this moment.

Breathe. I just need to breathe. I need to breathe and notice and feel.

The brick is warm under my palm but not hot.

The sun isn’t as scorching here as it is in my memories.

If I look for it, I can still find the scent of yeast and sugar clinging to my hair and clothes.

It’s not a scent that belongs in the desert or jungle.

I can hear…barking? And…what the fuck is happening to my leg?

My eyes snap open, taking in the pale-grey sidewalk lined with thick green trees.

The handful of cars that slowly cruise along the sleepy little side street I know like the back of my hand.

And…the little black critter hopping on its hind legs in an attempt to magically jump five feet into the air and into my arms while barking its tiny little head off.

It’s enough to pull me back to the present.

“Hey there, little one.” I offer the best “Aren’t you a sweet little doggy” voice I can as I slowly sink down into a squat and reach for the yapper.

I don’t want to get bitten, but I really don’t want to startle it and scare it into the middle of the road.

There isn’t much traffic this time of day but still.

It’s barking like it thinks I’m a demon it’s trying to scare back to the depths of hell, but it seems to want my attention, so all I can do is hope that this is the way it asks to be picked up.

“Where did you come from, huh? I bet you have a worried parent around here somewhere, don’t you? Yes, I bet you do!”

I one hundred percent understand how crazy I look.

The giant, almost hippie-looking blond dude squatting down in the middle of the sidewalk, using a baby voice to talk to a teensy black dog…

but it works. The moment one of my knees reaches the sidewalk and my hand is close enough, the thing jumps again, digging its claws into my skin and jeans as it scrambles its way up into my arms only to instantly begin frantically licking at my face.

I’m so grateful that it’s decided I’m a better choice than running into the street that I don’t even try to stop the unexpected tongue bath.

I don’t want to consider what could have happened if it made other choices.

That would absolutely have been the last straw for my already barely holding-it-together sanity.

Probably for a good long while. I’ve seen more than enough carnage to last several lifetimes; I couldn’t handle watching a dog get hurt.

I stand back up with the little ball of fluff tightly tucked into my arms and lean one shoulder against the brick as I nuzzle into its neck and thank it over and over for being such a good little thing.

Only when the heat from the wall sinks into the side of my arm do I realize that somehow, I’m completely focused on the pup, and the scent of fire and ash has faded back into the past. Hell, the critter probably saved me more than I saved it this afternoon.

“CUPCAKE!”

Weird. Sometimes kids are so excited to visit the bakery that they yell a bit when they get close or right as they walk in the door, but the voice screaming about cupcakes certainly doesn’t belong to a kid.

“That man really wants a cupcake, doesn’t he, sweet thing?” I figure the dog can hear the yelling as well, so we might as well have a little laugh over it together.

“CUPCAKE!”

The yelling gets louder with each subsequent “Cupcake.” I mean, I like cupcakes too.

I make a badass apple spice one with cream cheese frosting that happens to be one of my absolute favorite desserts, but I don’t love them enough to scream about how much I need one as I walk down the street. Whatever, to each their own.

“He must be having a worse day than me if he needs a cupcake that badly, huh, little one.” I grin at the beady brown eyes that seem to stare straight into my soul as the pup pants its doggy breath into my face.

“CUPCA…”

The man who comes barreling around the corner, screaming about desserts like a banshee, stops before he finishes the word and literally freezes in place mid-step for a moment.

Not a figure of speech. He actually physically stops moving with one foot a few inches in the air.

With the day I’ve had, if the dog wasn’t still squirming around in my arms, I’d worry that I’d finally snapped and my brain simply decided to pretend the world is nothing more than a movie it can pause at will.

He’s tall and dark and handsome and dressed in skintight, shiny black pants and a magenta corset, of all things, and even though he looks sweaty and panicked and his hair is just a bit longer than it is in my memories and dreams, I know in the blink of an eye that this is the man who dragged me into the bathroom of the jazz club nearly a year ago.

This is the man who took my breath away the first moment I saw him across a crowded, dimly lit room.

This is the man I dream about on the few rare nights I’m lucky enough to avoid nightmares. This is the last man who touched me.

He stands and stands and stands and stares at me in confusion, and I have no idea if it’s because he’s trying to remember where he’s seen me before or because he thinks that, for some reason, I may have just eaten the last of the bakery’s cupcakes and I need to be punished.

NOPE, that’s not an okay thought to have.

Definitely not thinking about this man punishing me.

Thanks for that one, brain. Very helpful.

“Umm…they still have cupcakes.” I point to the door.

When he finally snaps out of his trance and stomps toward me, his beautiful face is screwed up in what seems to be anger, though I have no idea why.

His perfectly manicured brows are furrowed, warm brown eyes flashing like he plans on lecturing or yelling or maybe producing a drink from out of nowhere to throw in my face like an old-fashioned silent movie starlet.

“How did you get Cupcake?” he demands once he’s closed the gap between us.

He’s only a couple of feet away, close enough that I can see his heartbeat pulsing along the side of his throat and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. Close enough that I can smell the scent of coconut and cigar smoke that clung to him that night in the club.

“I haven’t had a cupcake.” I shake my head in confusion. Why is he so hung up on cupcakes? Maybe he’s even less stable than I am and I should be concerned for him…or afraid of him?

He rolls his eyes like he thinks I’m a moron and jabs a finger in my direction, nearly poking me in the arm, and I step back, wrapping the tiny dog up even tighter to protect it from him, just in case he decides that it looks like a good target for his inexplicable anger.

“My dog. Cupcake.”

I snort out a laugh as I cuddle the tiny bundle even closer, just in case he’s lying.

“Your dog? Your dog’s name is Cupcake?”

His forehead wrinkles even further as his glare intensifies. “Yes. You find that amusing?”

God, he is a spitfire. He’s adorable.

“No. It’s the perfect name. She’s a sweetheart.”

He looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe for a moment as his expression shifts through a handful of emotions before he lands on…confusion?

“Sweet?” He sounds even more confused than he looks. “She’s…sweet?”

I glance down at her adorable little snoot, completely confused by his confusion.

“Well…yeah.”

“Seriously…how did you pick her up without losing a finger?” he snaps, and why is his feistiness somehow turning me on? What is wrong with me?

He’s even closer to me now, his fingers scratching the happy little critter’s neck while it rests in my arms, and the coconut that seems to linger on his skin is overwhelming.

I love coconut. I love it even more now.

I should probably put something with coconut on the menu just so I can smell it every day and spend more time reminiscing about my stolen moments with this beautiful man.

I should probably do that soon. Tomorrow even.

“Well?” Right. He asked me a question about something other than coconut. I need to find a way to answer quickly, even though my words don’t really want to work with him so close because he looks like he’s ready to actually stomp his foot at me in a tantrum if I don’t answer him soon.

“I was just…” I clear my throat and force myself to continue rather than getting sucked back into what I was thinking and feeling when the pup ran up to me. “I had just left the bakery when he came…”

“She.” He cuts me off with another eye roll, and it takes me a minute to figure out what he’s talking about.

“Oh. She. Sorry. When she came tearing around the corner and started hopping around and digging at my leg, so I just…scooped her up.”

“She ran to you? And…dug at your leg?”

I’m so confused by his disbelief that I’m starting to feel like this weird interaction might be some kind of hallucination, so I just nod.

“You just picked her up? And you didn’t lose any appendages?”

He can clearly see all of my fingers are intact and not bleeding, so I can’t help but wonder what others he’s concerned I might have lost.

I can’t hold back the laugh that forces its way out. “Not that I’m aware of, but you’re welcome to check them all.”

The blush that spreads along his high cheekbones and tan neck is surprising…and glorious.

I have no idea why the universe has been picking on me all day, but if it was simply so that I would walk out of the shop at exactly the right moment to rescue the tiny pup in my arms and have the beautiful man I’ve been minorly obsessing over for the last year find his way back into my life for some reason, I’m okay with it.