Page 15 of The Call of Azure (Unexpected Love #3)

I can’t help the laugh that falls out of me with an awkward and definitely less-than-graceful snort when he jokingly offers to let me check his non-visible appendages for Cupcake damage.

The man holding my Cupcake is a giant. A familiar giant.

When I nearly tripped over nothing as I whirled around yet another corner, sweaty, out of breath, and an absolutely disheveled mess from chasing her fuzzy little behind for three blocks, he was simply leaning against the brick wall of what smells like a bakery, with a smudge of flour barely visible on the pale skin of one high cheekbone.

Instead of at least faking guilt over having forced me to run outside during the summer in silk, Cupcake seems perfectly content cradled in his arms, tightly snuggling against his chest as he grins down and coos at her in a shockingly soft voice that he must reserve for kids and animals.

I wonder if it’s that smooth and gentle when he’s whispering into a lover’s ear.

His long blond hair is pulled up into what looks like the start of a high braid but ends in a messy bun, and did I mention…

he’s a giant. The man has to be six-six at least. I'm six feet exactly, and I can count on one hand the times in my life I've felt short. This is one of those moments, and I feel almost tiny as I stand slack-jawed and staring at a sight so illogical, unreasonable, and impossible…that it shouldn’t exist. Not only did this stranger get Cupcake into his arms. Not only did he apparently manage to do so without losing a nose or a finger or any other appendages that he'd likely prefer to keep. He’s absolutely the man I dragged into the bathroom of a jazz club and jacked off like my life depended on it almost a year ago.

God, has it really been that long? It was late spring, so yeah, I suppose it has been.

That means I haven't been on a date in almost a year. A year with no dates…me! It’s not the craziest thing that’s ever happened, I suppose.

It's not like I haven't had sex in a year. I make time for hookups now and again. Still, no dates. It’s strange to think of myself that way. I’ve spent so much of my life searching for my soulmate that it’s taken a lot of time and introspection and self-control to realize that I’m okay without one.

I’ve come to appreciate my own company and to settled into my skin in a way I never really have before.

I have the occasional moment of loneliness, sure, but I’ve learned to appreciate the time I spend with my friends more than I used to, and that helps.

Right now, though…right now it’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly a year when it feels like just yesterday I had this man’s cock in my palm and tongue in my mouth.

“Well…” I cock my hip a bit further and drag my gaze along his giant, giant, muscular body. “I don’t see any visible blood, and you’re not curled into a ball crying on the sidewalk, so I suppose I have no choice but to believe that you somehow managed to charm her.”

My fingers are still scratching her neck while she relaxes in his arms, and I have no explanation for why I haven’t taken her from him and left other than the fact that he smells like an actual cupcake or cinnamon cookies or crunchy bread, and I don’t really want to step away from a person who smells like that.

“So, you just…what? Hang out downtown in the middle of the afternoon and wait to impress folks with your ability to rescue runaway pups?”

His grin widens as he tilts his chin toward the nearest doorway.

“I own the bakery.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s really great!” I’m not sure why that throws me.

I don’t know this man. I spent a maximum of ten minutes with him a year ago, and none of those minutes had anything to do with talking about how we pay our bills.

I guess his shyness that night left me imagining him in a job where he didn’t have to do much talking.

Maybe something like an IT guy or construction worker or stripper.

Nope. Not thinking about him stripping, thank you very much.

Or about the way his cock would look somewhere with better lighting than a bathroom stall. Or about the way it felt in my hand…

“Yeah…I like it.” His deep chuckle draws me back to reality before I can do something really stupid like wonder - not for the first time - what his dick would feel like in my mouth.

“I don’t know this area very well. I spent the afternoon out with some friends who moved in a few streets over a couple of months ago, but we’ve all been busy lately, so Cupcake and I haven’t had a ton of time to explore around here.

” Oh my frick, I am rambling like a crazy person.

He doesn’t need my life story. I’m not the kind of person who rambles like this.

Stop it. Stop it now. Just ask a question so he has to talk again, and you can regroup. “Have you had the place long?”

“A couple of years now.”

He hasn’t stopped smiling since he joked about me checking his appendages, but as he answers, his eyes dart down to Cupcake, and he shifts his weight from foot to foot, almost like he’s embarrassed for some reason.

I have no idea why that would be the case.

Owning a bakery seems like something he should be proud of, but I’m pretty good at reading people, and pride is definitely not what I’m getting from him.

Maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who’s very confident about his abilities and achievements?

I can’t just take my dog away and leave the poor man without trying to boost his confidence a little.

“That’s really awesome. Owning a business is a shiz ton of work, so small business owners are basically heroes. Most folks I know who own places have to practically live there in order to keep things running. Is that how it is for a bakery too?”

He’s so pale that the blush slowly progressing from the apples of his cheeks down his neck as I compliment him is nearly the same dark coral as the brick of his bakery. “Ya, it’s definitely a lot of work, but I enjoy it, so I don’t really mind.”

The sweet thing. How in the world is someone who owns their own business and is as gorgeous as he is really this nervous or unsure of himself?

I know I should extricate Cupcake from her seat on his forearm and head back to Ethan and Blue’s before my body gets more ideas about offering a repeat of our last encounter because I don’t do those anymore.

But I sort of want to stand here and compliment him for hours just to see how far down his neck that blush will spread.

“It’s what, four in the afternoon?”

He nods once, looking a bit confused by the randomness of my question, and I let my grin widen just to watch the way his pale-blue eyes track the movement of my lips. “What time did you get here this morning? I bet it was early, right? Like seven or something?”

A laugh explodes from his chest, deep and rumbling and so, so very sexy as he shakes his head. “A bit before five. I always get here before five.”

“Five? In the morning?” I feel physically ill over the idea of getting up that early, and even though I’m pretty good at controlling my expressions as a general rule, I’m positive that that little piece of information is all too obvious since he starts laughing even harder. Rude!

“Five in the morning is not okay! Like…it’s not okay. Are you okay? Do you need me to like…help you find a new job or burn this place down for the insurance money or something? Oh my god, I will never, ever take baked goods for granted again!”

When his laughter eventually fades, he offers me the gentlest smile I’ve ever seen.

He’s smiled and laughed throughout our conversation, but this smile is different.

It’s a soft, open thing that lights up his entire face.

Tiny wrinkles appear beside glacier-blue eyes, and the corners of plush lips the color of his currently rosy cheeks, curl up just enough to show straight white teeth.

“It’s not my favorite part of the job, but I’ve adjusted to it.

I like the rest of it enough that it’s worth it.

Plus, I mean, we have coffee, so that helps. ”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose…” I shiver visibly as I think about dragging myself out of bed early enough to get to work before five a.m. They know better than to even ask me to cover a shift that starts before ten these days. “But still…”

He shrugs as his gaze darts down to where both of our hands are still idly scratching Cupcake, who seems perfectly content with this level of adoration and attention.

“So, umm…do you want to maybe come in and have some? Coffee, I mean. You could have more than that if you wanted, of course. It’s not like our coffee is anything special. We’re not a coffee place. I could get you an actual cupcake or something though, and we could…I don’t know…chat maybe?”

His entire offer is one long, rambling, nervous question.

His eyes never shift up as he talks, and his hand leaves Cupcake’s fur to scrub along the back of his neck.

He is adorable and endearing and awkward, and that makes him dangerous enough that I need to escape before I get sucked back into my old patterns and start pining over yet another man I won’t be able to keep.

“No.” It comes out so abruptly that he nearly jumps away.

When his head snaps up and his eyes find mine, there’s a sadness in them that feels like it stems from something much deeper than me turning down an invitation for coffee.

It feels like something I recognize all too well.

It feels like loneliness. I know better than to let myself think like that though.

I’ve spent too much of my life reading into glances and body language and laughter.

Too much time believing that I see myself reflected in others when all I’m actually doing is hoping. I won’t let that happen ever again.

He doesn’t deserve the nearly hostile way I responded to such a kind offer though, so I force on a smile and keep my voice as level as possible as I pluck Cupcake from his arms. “I mean. No, but thanks. I really need to get going.”

“Sure, of course.” His smile is forced and confused over my abrupt personality shift, but that’s just something he’s going to have to deal with because I can’t stare into blue eyes and wonder how long the scent of bread and cookies clings to him once he leaves work for even a moment longer if I’m going to manage to walk away.

“Thanks again for catching Cupcake for me.”

I walk backward as I offer my final thank you.

Maybe it’s my first. He’s so distracting that I don’t even remember if I ever actually thanked him for saving her.

Somehow, despite my tendency to injure myself and others in the most mundane ways possible, I manage to get to the intersection without tripping over anything or running into anyone, and the moment I clear the corner of the building, I spin and take off before he can reply.

I don’t need the sound of his voice following me down the street.

I’m already afraid that it’s going to end up haunting my dreams for as long as it did after our first meeting.

I’ve done so well this past year. I’ve worked so hard to make peace with being on my own.

I’m not sure what the universe thinks it’s doing or why it seems to believe picking on me is funny, but I really wish it hadn’t decided to bring the soft-spoken giant back into my life. Even if it was just for a moment.