Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2)

by Simonne, Andrea

  “Tori did a nice job.” His head is right next to hers as he’s clicking through the different pages for the bakery’s site.

  She watches his hand on her computer’s touch pad. His hands are big, but oddly graceful and well-made for someone who worked as a mechanic. His nails are clean and short. She remembers all the times she stared at Road’s hands, wanting things from them.

  He suddenly stops surfing the bakery’s website and remains still.

  “What is it?” The side of his face is so close, she could kiss him if she leaned forward.

  “How to help Road get back on track with his life,” he reads, staring down at her notebook. “What the hell is this?”

  He turns to face her, and for some perverse reason Blair doesn’t move her head back, so their faces remain close.

  “It’s a list I made.”

  “I can see that.” He turns to look at the list again.

  “I don’t know what you’re involved in,” she says quickly, “but I think you’re on the wrong path.”

  Road’s eyes come back to meet hers. He’s close enough she can see how some of his eyelashes are tipped blond.

  “You going to save me?” he asks softly.

  “If I have to.”

  He smiles a little as his eyes drop to her mouth. “Think I’d like that.”

  A yearning blooms within her, a terrible yearning. And it’s bad. The worst ever. She tries to force it away, yet the yearning persists.

  His gaze flickers from her mouth back to her eyes.

  Blair’s breath hitches. And just when she’s ready to damn the consequences, Road pulls away. He turns his head and is studying her list again.

  “Who’s Mia?”

  “What?”

  “Call Mia and ask her advice about Road and trouble with the law,” he reads aloud.

  Blair leans away from him and lets out her breath. “She’s the lawyer I hired after you left.”

  His brows go up. “To divorce me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t go through with it.”

  “No, not yet.”

  He nods slowly.

  “Now that you’re here, though, it’ll be easy,” she says. “We don’t have any property or children.” She stops talking and nearly chokes on the word children.

  Road is watching her. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, and when he does, his voice is quiet. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault what happened. You know that, right?”

  Blair nods. She never lets her thoughts stray there, to the reason Road agreed to marry her in the first place. She swallows, trying to push back the sadness which, on a bad day, still haunts her. “I know that.”

  “It just wasn’t meant to be, is all.”

  “I know that, too.” She looks up at him and when their eyes meet, Blair is surprised by what she sees in his. She always thought Road didn’t care when she lost the baby, that he was relieved and that’s why he fled so quickly, but for the first time, she isn’t sure.

  He takes a deep breath and exhales. “Need to hit the sack, princess. Got a million things to do tomorrow, and I still have jet lag.”

  Blair turns away, staring at her computer, trying to recover from their conversation. “You have to sleep on the couch tonight,” she tells him.”

  “Can’t. Too bright out here, remember?”

  “I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I need my sleep tonight.”

  His eyes cut to hers. “You have a problem last night?”

  Obviously, she can’t admit how she was so affected by him that she barely slept at all. Especially when—annoyingly—she could hear his deep, even breathing and it was clear he wasn’t having the same issue.

  “No, no problem at all,” she says, trying to make her voice haughty.

  There’s a mewing sound and Road glances down. Mr. Maurice is twining around his legs. “Hey, pal.” Road bends down to pet him for a few seconds then stands. “Okay, going to crash then.”

  Blair watches him head down the hall to the bedroom with Mr. Maurice trailing behind. She closes her eyes. Thank God he’s leaving.

  “HAS ROAD LEFt yet?” Natalie asks, sipping her latte.

  Both Blair and Natalie are in the kitchen at La Dolce Vita. Natalie is watching Blair roll out peach fondant for a two-tiered, lace wedding cake.

  Blair spreads the fondant over the table. The wedding colors are peaches and cream with a sky blue accent. The bride brought in fabric samples to show Blair, along with pictures of the flowers and venue. She’s seen so many weddings that she’s become almost immune to them, but sometimes there’s still one that takes her breath away.

  If she ever gets married again, it won’t be at city hall, that’s for sure. Of course, if I ever get married again, it will be to a man who loves me, not one who’s marrying me out of obligation.

  “He was still asleep when I left this morning, but he’s leaving today.”

  “What happened with Isadora?”

  Blair grabs a palette knife to cut the gum paste mixture from a lace mold. “I still have her keys.”

  What she doesn’t mention is that she had to search through Road’s stuff to find Isadora’s keys. He didn’t give them back to her last night. Luckily, he left his backpack on the chair. She’s surprised he was so trusting, but then he had no reason to distrust her.

  It was an underhanded thing to do, but there’s no way she’s letting him take Isadora. Road may have her title, but I’ve put a lot of money into her. I think that gives me some sort of claim.

  And luckily, she didn’t see anything suspicious in his bag, either. Though he probably would have gotten rid of anything illegal by now.

  “Do you think that will be the end of it with Road?” Natalie asks.

  “I hope so.”

  I mean what’s he going to do? Besides, possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?

  A couple hours later, as Blair is bent over putting the finishing touches on a birthday cake, Carlos, one of their baristas, comes back looking for her.

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “A guy. Tall, blond, and straight-up hot.”

  Blair sighs. She only knows one guy who fits that description. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

  She stores the birthday cake in their large back fridge then goes over to check herself in the employee bathroom mirror. Dabs on lip gloss. She suspects she knows why he’s here.

  “Is that Road?” Natalie and Ginger both ask when they see her headed toward the front. The bakery is worse than a sorority house sometimes, everybody knowing everybody else’s business.

  Blair sighs. “Tall, blond, and straight-up hot?”

  They both nod. “Very hot,” Natalie says with a grin.

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  Ginger gives her a look. “If that was my husband, I’m pretty sure I’d never divorce him. Maybe you guys should try and work it out.”

  “Not this situation.” Blair doesn’t bother taking her white chef’s coat off. She wants Road to be reminded that she’s at work and doesn’t have time for any big discussions.

  She heads out front and sees him right away, standing near their pastry case. Her insides do their usual flutter at the sight of him.

  He nods. “Hey, princess.”

  “I’m working, so I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  “Why?”

  He reaches down and takes her hand. His hand is warm and dry, and his touch makes her breath catch. She feels him put something into hers.

  “What’s this?” She looks down in surprise. He’s given her the Honda keys.

  “Not planning to take much of your time. Just stopped by to get the keys to my car and give those back to you.”

  Blair shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you Isadora’s keys.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I think you heard me.”

  Road goes silent,
stares at her with his eyes laser-focused. They narrow. “No, don’t think I did hear you correctly. Sounded like you just told me you’re keeping my car.”

  “I believe I have a claim to her.”

  “No, you don’t. Now hand over the keys.”

  “I’ve spent thousands on her so, yes, I do have a claim.”

  “Said I’d write you a check, remember?”

  Blair doesn’t reply, just turns her head back toward the kitchen to indicate she needs to get back to work.

  “Cut the shit, Blair. Give me the keys to my car. Now.”

  She hesitates at the demand in his voice, but then remembers how Road abandoned Isadora, just left her sitting in the driveway. He didn’t care. I care, though.

  “No,” Blair tells him.

  Road is studying her. “So, this is how you want to play it?”

  “I’m not giving you Isadora. Like I said, she’s mine.”

  Road lets out a frustrated breath.

  “Feel free to use the Honda for as long as you need it. I think that’s generous.” She holds the Honda’s keys out for Road, dangling them between two fingers.

  He glances at them and steps closer to her, speaking in a low growl. “You don’t want to tangle with me, babe. Trust me, you’ll lose.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The two of them stay that way. Blair sees the way he’s assessing her. She doesn’t back down, though. Instead, she meets his assessment head-on and, in fact, starts doing some assessing of her own. She already knows Road won’t back down if he thinks he’s right.

  But I’m the one who’s right this time.

  He smirks then reaches over and grabs the Honda keys from her hand. Without another word, he stalks out of the bakery.

  Blair spends the rest of the afternoon wondering what Road’s next move is going to be. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. What can he really do? Take me to court? That will take months. And besides, he’s not going to want to tangle with the authorities, not if he’s involved in anything illegal.

  After checking through her work calendar, she notices she’ll be delivering two cakes on Friday and four on Saturday. Some brides pick up the cakes themselves, but others, especially when it’s a multi-tiered cake, opt to pay extra and have Blair deliver it for them. She and Natalie bought a used refrigerated van and either Ginger or Carlos helps her with deliveries.

  On the way home, she stops at Home Depot and browses through the paint section again, gathering more samples for her second bedroom/soon-to-be office. She thinks about Road’s comment that white is a funeral color in Asia.

  Maybe I should add some color.

  She then gets annoyed with herself that anything Road said would have an influence on her. Instead, she grabs more beige and white color swatches. There’s nothing wrong with beige and white!

  When she pulls into the underground parking garage for her condo, she’s surprised to see her silver Honda is in its usual parking spot. Apparently, Road decided he didn’t want to use it after all.

  I’m sure he knows plenty of people who would be happy to loan him a car. Plenty of women, especially.

  As she heads up in the elevator, she has an uneasy feeling, like she’s forgotten something. She’s not quite sure what it is, but the closer she gets to her door, the feeling only gets stronger. When she finally puts the key in the lock and steps inside her flat, it all becomes clear.

  The first thing she notices is the smell of food cooking, and the second thing is Road in front of the stove cooking it.

  For a moment, she remains still. A swirl of emotions flood through her—joy and longing, but they only last a split-second before it all turns to anger. She walks over to the island and puts her purse down on the chair. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

  “Cooking dinner.” He reaches over for the pepper mill and grinds some into the pan of food.

  “No,” she says icily. “What are you doing here?” She’d left a detailed note for Road this morning instructing him to lock her door then stick the key in her mailbox downstairs afterward. Clearly, he didn’t follow instructions.

  “Like I said, babe. Cooking dinner.”

  “You were supposed to put my key in the mailbox this morning.”

  “Guess not.”

  “You kept my house key?”

  “Looks that way.” His eyes slide to hers, and there’s a lazy expression on his face she recognizes. It’s the one he always wore when he was scheming something and wanted to appear innocent. It was usually directed at Tori or one of his friends when he was pulling a prank. She’s never seen it directed at her before.

  “I want it back. And then I want you to leave.”

  Road smirks, doesn’t reply and instead keeps stirring the pan of what she now recognizes is chicken stir fry.

  “And don’t start with me on the irony of all this, either. Keeping my house key is not the same as me keeping Isadora!”

  “Whatever you say.” Road brings the spoon to his lips to taste the dish. Blair’s mouth waters. She hasn’t eaten since noon, and though she’s loathe to admit it, the food smells delicious. Since when can Road cook? As she recalls, the most complicated thing he knew how to make was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  “Do you want a taste?” he asks.

  She glares at him. “I want my key back.”

  “Guess we both want something then.”

  Blair tries to see a way out of this. There’s no way she’s going to give him Isadora. Not in a million years. Unfortunately, that leaves only one other option. She doesn’t want to do it, but Road isn’t giving her a choice. She takes a deep breath. “If you don’t give me my house key and leave, I’m calling the police.”

  Road turns toward her, his expression stunned.

  She crosses her arms. “I’m completely serious.”

  His brows go up as he stares at her in amazement.

  “I’ll do it, and I know you don’t want that.”

  But then his expression changes again. This time, it’s humor. White teeth flash at her, eyes full of mirth. She hasn’t seen Road laugh in a long time and forgot how much she liked it. He has a great laugh.

  Unfortunately, this is not the response she was expecting. Far from it, actually.

  He’s laughing so hard now that he actually has to put the wooden spoon down and rest his hands on the counter.

  “I fail to see what’s so amusing,” she says.

  “Damn, princess.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “The police?” And then he starts laughing all over again.

  But Blair has had enough. “Stop laughing! This isn’t funny. You kept my house key, and now you won’t leave. That’s practically breaking and entering!”

  This only makes him laugh harder.

  “You think I won’t do it? That I won’t call? I will. I’ll call them right now!”

  Finally, Road takes a deep breath and seems to gain control over himself. “Go ahead, call the cops. I don’t have a problem with it.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Course not. I’m not the one stealing something.” He gives her a look.

  “I’m not stealing Isadora!”

  “That’s not how it looks from over here. And that’s not how the law is going to see it, either. All I have to do is show them the title to my car.”

  Blair is quiet.

  “Hell, maybe I should call them myself, now that I think about it.”

  She shoots him a dark look.

  He picks up the spoon and gets back to his chicken stir fry. “Told you not to tangle with me, babe.” But then he grins. “Besides, what would you tell them anyway? That your husband refuses to leave home?”

  “This isn’t your home.”

  He looks around her condo. “I like it here.”

  “No, you don’t. You told me it looks like an Asian funeral parlor.”

  “Not exactly what I said.”

  “Close enough,” she grumbles.

  Road lets out wh
at sounds like a weary sigh. “Do you want a beer?” He goes over to the fridge and opens the door. “Think we could both use one.”

  “No.”

  He reaches in and comes out with two bottles. She watches him search through her kitchen drawers until he finds the opener. When he’s done, he hands one over.

  “I said I didn’t want it.”

  Road puts her beer on the counter next to her and goes back to cooking. She watches him take a long draw from his bottle as he continues with the stir fry.

  Studying him from the side, she has to admit he looks sexy standing there making dinner. He’s wearing the same faded jeans and T-shirt from earlier. His blond hair tucked behind his ears.

  A shudder of wanting runs through her. Her desire for Road is so deep and familiar, it’s like an old friend returning, her shadow companion for years.

  She picks up her beer and takes a sip. “So, when did you learn how to cook?”

  “Couple years ago. Friends taught me.”

  Blair is silent. Women friends, no doubt.

  “Do you want to grab some plates, babe?”

  She opens the cabinet and gets them down, then pulls out silverware for both of them. Despite her anger, she figures they might as well eat. Road takes each plate and dishes out rice from another pot she hadn’t even noticed he was using. He loads up both plates with the stir fry.

  They take their food and beer bottles over to her small dining room table, where they sit in silence for a while as they devour the meal.

  “This is good,” Blair admits. She’s hungry, but it’s still probably the best stir fry she’s ever had. “Did you put curry in it?”

  “Thanks. And yeah, I did.”

  “I take it one of your girlfriends taught you how to cook.”

  He shakes his head. “Shared a flat with a husband and wife in Budapest and they taught me.”

  Blair raises her eyebrows in surprise.

  “We took turns cooking,” Road explains. “Only, I burned everything. Finally, they got so tired of my charcoal dinners they took it upon themselves to teach me how to cook.”

  Blair can’t help her laughter. “They did a good job. From what I remember, all you could make were peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “Yeah, that was my repertoire, all right.” Road grins. “Only, you can’t find peanut butter in Hungary or if you do, it’s too expensive.”