Honey bun hottie stepped next to Tad. “I invited her to a concert. Hey, before I forget, I’ve got the tickets right here.”
“I told you to mind your own business, asshole.” Tad’s shoulders bunched up. Then he swatted the cup of coffee and brown paper bag out of the guy’s hands.
“Hey, that was the last honey bun in the case,” I said. Great. Why did I always seem to go for the major douchebags? Tad hadn’t seemed like such a jerk when we first started dating. But even then, the signs were there. I had no one but myself to blame for not putting an end to things sooner.
The guy didn’t look worried. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy the building frustration simmering from my ex.
“You wanna get into it?” Tad balled his hands into fists.
Someone had to be the voice of reason. I stepped between the two men. “Cut it out. Tad, don’t make me call the cops.”
“Get out of the way.” Tad moved around me, his eyes intent on the stranger who’d come to my defense.
“Stop!” I grabbed onto Tad’s arm, but he jerked it away, sending me reeling.
I stumbled forward, and the stranger caught me. He snugged an arm around my midsection and pulled me against his chest.
He smelled fresh, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. This close to him, I could see the individual whiskers that made up the scruff along his jaw. I could feel his warm exhale on my cheek. My lungs seized, and I struggled to take in a breath.
“Are you all right?” He set me upright and risked a quick look at my face.
“I’m fine.”
“This isn’t over.” Tad narrowed his eyes, rolled his shoulders, and stomped toward his obnoxious, blinged-out truck.
“So that’s your ex?” Honey Bun Hottie asked.
“Unfortunately.” I grimaced. Now that I’d left Tad, I could see what a dick he actually was, something Abby had tried to bring to my attention multiple times over the years. “I’m sorry you had to get involved.”
He bent down to pick up the now empty coffee cup and crushed paper bag. “I didn’t have to. I wanted to. It’s not my MO to stand by and do nothing when someone’s being mistreated. Especially someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” The pressure in my chest let up. I gazed into Honey Bun Hottie’s dark brown eyes, not sure if I should be flattered or offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His lips split into the kind of grin that would make most women throw themselves at his feet and offer to have his babies right there on the sunny stretch of sidewalk. But I wasn’t most women, so I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for clarification.
“Doesn’t mean anything, really. He’s got what, a hundred pounds on you? Seems like he ought to pick on someone closer to his size, that’s all.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. “I’m sorry about your breakfast.”
“I’m not.” He flipped the trash into the dumpster. “About that concert…”
2
SHANE
She shook her head, making her high blonde ponytail bounce. “Yeah, thanks for tossing that out there. He probably can’t believe I actually have plans for Valentine’s Day.”
“Do you?” I floated the question out there, second guessing myself when her gaze shifted to her feet. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“That’s okay. My plans are to grab some takeout on the way home and get to bed early. I’ve got to be back at the bakery early tomorrow morning. The honey buns don’t make themselves.” She grinned up at me, her eyes sparkling with a hint of humor. “But I do owe you one. If you want to stop by tomorrow morning, your breakfast is on me.”
I shook my head, almost sorry I couldn’t stick around. “I’ll be on the road tomorrow, but thanks for the offer.”
“Then let me drop some off for you tonight. I can make up a fresh batch and run them over.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Just give me your address.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself to shake my head and make up an excuse. But the curvy blonde baker intrigued me. I was only in town for one more night, but there was something about her—beyond her melt-in-my-mouth buns—that made me swallow my reservations. “Tell you what. I’ll be at the Century Center tonight. If you want to stop by around seven?”
Her forehead crinkled. “The Century Center? Do you work there?”