With Me in Seattle Bundle Two

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With Me in Seattle Bundle Two Page 29

by Kristen Proby

“I prefer to be in my shop.”

  “Do other musicians come in?”

  “Sure. I’ve had Adam Levine in. I thought Tess was going to pee herself.” I laugh at the memory. “Bruno Mars, Eddie Vedder, Blake Shelton…they’ve all been in.”

  “That’s cool. But Leo’s your favorite?”

  “He’s nice. His girlfriend is always really nice, too. Sam, right?”

  He nods, watching me, and I’m suddenly mortified.

  “I’m sorry. They’re your family and I’m chattering on about them like a fan-girl.”

  “It’s fine. They’re just normal people. You’d like them.”

  “Are you taking me to the Greek place?” I ask with enthusiasm.

  “Is that okay with you? They have great food.”

  “I know! It’s my favorite.” I grin at him as he holds the door open for me. We’re seated quickly by the windows with a great view of the Space Needle.

  “Tell me about your tattoo.” He’s watching me over his menu, his eyes calm and ice blue.

  “Rebellious stage.”

  “Can I get you both something to drink?” the waitress asks as she approaches the table.

  “I’ll take a Diet Coke, please.”

  “Water for me,” he replies. “Tell me more.”

  “I had a few years where I gave my parents a run for their money. I got this”—I point to the bright flowers on my right shoulder—“on my twentieth birthday.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad I wasn’t stupid enough to get something like Tweety Bird or something.”

  “Do the cherry blossoms mean something to you?”

  “I thought they were pretty. And, trust me, that was a time in my life when I didn’t think much about me was pretty.”

  He tilts his head to the side and narrows those blue eyes on me, but I look down at my menu, avoiding his gaze.

  Why did I say that?

  Rather than push for more, he turns his attention to his menu, and the waitress returns with drinks and to take our order.

  Twilight is just beginning to set in, and the lights on the Space Needle begin to glow.

  “I love the Space Needle at night,” I murmur.

  “The view from the top is amazing,” he agrees.

  “I’ve never been to the top.”

  His gaze whips to mine. “Never?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head and take a sip of my drink. “I’ve only lived here for about five years.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “A small town in Wyoming.”

  “Is your family there?”

  “Yeah.” I nod slowly and drag my fingers down the beading condensation on my glass. “My parents and sister are all there. I have lots of extended family, too.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “Because I like the city. I came here for culinary school and never went back.”

  “Do you visit?”

  “Sure, about once a year. My mom spends the whole week I’m there begging me to move back, giving me the guilt trip for being so far away.”

  “So she does the mom thing,” he replies with a wink.

  “Big-time.” I nod. “I love them, but there are only about twelve hundred people in that town. What would I do there forever? I like it here. This is my home. I can visit them.”

  His eyes are warm as he watches me. “I’m glad you came here.”

  His voice is soft and low and like warm honey. He’s such a nice guy. He hasn’t been pushy or demanding at all.

  Is this really the dominant man I knew a few weeks ago?

  Our food is delivered, and we continue with small talk throughout the meal, and when we’re finished and we step out in the warm Seattle evening, I take a deep breath and rub my belly.

  “God, I’m full.”

  “You eat like a champ,” he replies with a wide grin.

  “I know.” I scrunch my nose. “I’m gonna need an extra mile on the treadmill tomorrow.”

  “Let’s work some of it off now.” He leads me toward the heart of the center. The whole space is lit up, and people are milling about. Kids are skipping, yelling, crying. Cotton candy stands, ice cream stands and candied nut stands are positioned about.

  “How about an ice cream?” he asks.

  “We’re supposed to be working calories off, not adding to them,” I remind him with a laugh. “How about an iced tea?” I suggest, pointing to a nearby barista.

  “Good idea.”

  “Officer Montgomery!” a little middle-aged woman exclaims from behind her espresso machine. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. You never visit me anymore.”

  “It’s detective now, Mrs. Rhodes.” He grins and winks at the older woman. She’s old enough to be his mother.

  And she looks completely smitten with him.

  “Who is your lady friend?” she asks with a soft smile.

  “This is Nic.” Matt settles his hand on my back, introducing me to the kind woman. “Nic, this is Mrs. Rhodes. She makes the best coffee around.”

  “Of course I do,” she replies. “But you don’t ever come to get any.”

  “Well, you said you were going to leave Mr. Rhodes and run away with me, but you never did that either. You broke my heart.”

  “Oh, now you stop that, young man!” She shakes her finger at him, but her eyes are shining with humor. “You’re going to make people talk.”

  I can’t help but giggle at their banter. Matt is charming and most likely making Mrs. Rhodes’ year.

  “What can I get for you, darling?” she asks me kindly.

  “Just an iced tea, please.”

  “Do you want me to sweeten it?”

  “No, thank you,” I reply.

  “And for you, troublemaker?” she asks Matt, who laughs delightedly.

  “I’ll have the same.”

  She fills our drinks, and when she tries to pass them over the counter, Matt steps behind and takes them from her, then leans in and kisses her cheek.

  “If you ever need anything, you have my number.”

  “You’re a good boy, detective.”

  He smiles softly and hands me my drink, waves at Mrs. Rhodes, and we are off again, wandering around the Seattle Center.

  “She is smitten with you,” I inform him.

  “Jealous?” he asks me with a wolfish smile.

  “No.” I giggle. “I liked her.”

  “She’s been serving coffee in that same spot for years. This used to be my beat when I was a beat cop.”

  “Oh, cool. Do you miss it?”

  “Just Mrs. Rhodes.” He laughs. “She and her husband are good people.”

  I nod, not knowing what to say. I’m learning that not only is Matt Montgomery sex on a stick, but he’s just plain…kind.

  I’m in trouble.

  “Where are we going?”

  We’ve stopped by the base of the Space Needle and thrown our empty cups into the trash.

  “Up the Needle,” he replies with a raised brow. “You’ve never seen it.”

  My mouth drops for a moment, and then I clap my hands and bounce on the balls of my feet. “Awesome!”

  “Come on.”

  He buys our tickets and leads me into the elevator.

  “Have I mentioned that I’m afraid of heights?” I ask as we climb higher and higher.

  Matt laughs and then wraps his arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  The doors open, and I forget my fear of heights.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

  I walk to the railing and gaze out at the city that I’ve come to love so much. It’s dark now, and there is a sea of glowing lights below us. The air is still warm. There’s a light breeze, making the ends of my hair tickle my cheek.

  “Come this way.” Matt holds his hand out for mine and leads me around to the opposite side of the deck that looks out over the sound. We can see lit-up ferries and boats floating o
ver the water.

  “Gorgeous,” I whisper.

  “Yes,” he murmurs.

  I glance up to find him looking down at me.

  “You’re a charmer,” I inform him with a laugh.

  “One thing you’ll learn about me, little one, is that I rarely say what I don’t mean.”

  We’re standing side by side, not touching, watching the city around us. It’s amazingly quiet up here.

  Peaceful.

  Suddenly, Matt reaches over and grasps my hand in his, linking our fingers. He doesn’t look down at me, just holds my hand as we watch our city.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Okay, maybe Bailey is right. I need to give this a chance.

  Chapter Four

  ~Matt~

  It’s been a long fucking night.

  Asher and I caught a case that kept us up all night long, bouncing from the crime scene to the hospital, interviewing family members and speaking with the doctors.

  Domestic disputes are rarely this bad, but when they are, it’s exhausting.

  I arrive home at just before nine Saturday morning. The only thing I can think of is taking a hot shower and climbing into bed, succumbing to oblivion.

  I strip my clothes off, leaving a path of dirty laundry behind me on my way to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and step in before the water even has a chance to heat up all the way, scrubbing the night at work off my body. Just as the water hits scalding level, I shut it off, towel myself dry and pad into my bedroom as my cell phone rings.

  I scowl when I see Asher’s name on the display.

  “Yeah,” I answer and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Hey, I just picked up the cupcakes for Casey’s birthday party tonight, and I thought I should call you.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my body already on alert and the fatigue forgotten.

  “Nothing’s wrong, but I thought you’d like to know that your girl is swamped in her shop today.”

  “My girl?” I ask drily.

  “I’m not stupid, man. I don’t know what you have going on with her, but I can tell there’s something there. She’s shorthanded and running ragged today. She seems okay, just thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

  “Thanks, partner. I’ll go check on her.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he responds and hangs up.

  I glance longingly at my comfortable bed and resign myself to being awake for a few more hours.

  There’s no way in hell that I’ll leave her to fend for herself today. Not if I can help her.

  I dress quickly in jeans and a black T-shirt and drive quickly to the bakery.

  Sure enough, it takes me five minutes to find parking, and when I finally step inside, there is a line to the door. Nic is smiling widely but clearly overwhelmed, bustling behind the glass case, back and forth between plating cupcakes and ringing up customers.

  This is a two-person job.

  She hasn’t even noticed I’m here when I slip back into the kitchen and grab a spare white apron, pull it over my head and tie it around my waist.

  Oh, we’re going to have fun with her apron very soon.

  Before I can spend too much time daydreaming of tying her up with her apron and fucking her blind here in her kitchen, I join her behind the counter, startling her.

  “Matt!”

  “How can I help?” I ask calmly.

  Her cheeks are flushed and her hands are shaking as she brushes a piece of hair off her face.

  “You don’t have to,” she replies but swallows hard.

  “Clearly, I do. We’ll talk later, just tell me what you need.” I smile reassuringly and brush her soft cheek with my fingertip.

  “Can you fill cupcake orders while I make coffees and ring them up?” she asks.

  “I can do that,” I reply.

  “I need two minutes,” she informs me and disappears into the kitchen.

  I’m just filling a white box full of a half-dozen carrot cake cupcakes when she returns, chewing on something.

  “Better?” I ask.

  She nods and returns to the cash register, attending to her customers. That red ribbon is tied around her head again. It seems to be a part of her uniform. I do believe we’ll find a way to have fun with that as well.

  God, she’s fucking beautiful.

  We work side by side for the better part of the morning without a break. I can’t believe how busy her little shop is. I grin in pride when an elderly man approaches Nic to ring up his sales.

  “My Margaret and I sure do love your sweets, girlie.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Larsen. How is your pretty wife?” Nic asks with a grin.

  “She’s been a little under the weather, but these will brighten her right up.”

  “I hope so,” Nic replies and drops some chocolate-covered cherries into a bag to give to him as well. “These are new. I’d love it if you two would let me know what you think.”

  Mr. Larsen winks at Nic and grins before walking out with his purchase.

  Nic knows most of her clients’ names and deals with them all with humor and grace.

  At two thirty, there is a lull in customers, so Nic slips in the back for a few minutes and returns with more trays of cupcakes to fill empty slots in her case. She has a stick of string cheese hanging out of her mouth, chewing away on it.

  “So what happened?” I ask as she arranges the case.

  “Anastasia, my other part-time helper, called out sick this morning,” she replies with a sigh. “Tess is in college, so she can’t help during the week. So that left me.”

  “Maybe you should hire someone full time to help out,” I suggest, but she glares at me from across the space.

  “Trying to tell me how to run my business now, Matt?”

  “Hey,” I reply, holding up my hands, “it was just a suggestion.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I haven’t had enough to eat today. It makes me grouchy.”

  “You close at four?” I ask. I walk behind her and begin kneading the tight muscles in her shoulders.

  “Yeah,” she replies and sighs deeply, leaning against me. “Jesus, that feels good. Why did you come in?”

  “Asher called me. Said you were pretty busy, so I decided to come check in on you.”

  She spins around, her jaw dropped in surprise. “But he said you two worked all night.”

  I smile patiently and step closer to her, needing to be next to her. She smells of vanilla and sugar, and it’s the most alluring smell I’ve ever experienced.

  Who knew sugar could be so fucking sexy?

  “You needed me,” I reply simply. “And I’ve missed you this week.”

  Her green eyes widen, and suddenly she’s in my arms, wrapped around me, hugging me hard. Her head is tucked against my chest, and she turns her face to bury her nose against me while taking a long, deep breath.

  “Thank you,” she whispers before pulling back, but I hold her tight and keep her with me for a few moments, giving us both a moment to settle.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The bell above the door sounds as a customer walks in, and for the next forty minutes—ten minutes past closing time—we are busy with customers again, cleaning out the glass case except for one cupcake.

  Nic locks the door, takes a deep breath and laughs. “I can pay you with a crème brûlée cupcake,” she says.

  “I’ll split it with you,” I reply.

  “Nah, I don’t eat them.” She waves me off after she hands me the cupcake, stacks the trays from the case and carries them into the back.

  “Why not?”

  “Can you imagine if I ate everything I baked?” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’d have to live at the gym.”

  “You don’t sample anything?” I ask and take a bite of the cake. Dear Christ, these are amazing.

  “Once in a while, if it’s something new,” she replies and pulls her apron over her head, throws it in a
hamper and watches me enjoy the treat. “Good?”

  “Amazing.”

  “I’m glad.” She tilts her head, watching me. “You’re tired.”

  “I’m exhausted,” I confirm and swallow the last bite.

  “Come upstairs with me.” To my surprise, she holds her hand out for mine and then leads me up to her apartment. “We’ll have dinner and you can crash for a while.”

  “I don’t live far,” I respond.

  “I would rather you didn’t drive when you’re this tired,” she replies. “Plus, you saved me today, so the least I can do is save you back.”

  Save me.

  Why do I get the feeling that Nic will save me in more ways than she’ll ever know?

  ***

  “So how did you become a baker?” I ask and take a bite of meat lover’s pizza.

  We are seated in her living room, shoes off, facing each other from opposite ends of the couch, the pizza box between us.

  “I always liked to bake,” she replies. “Couldn’t afford to go to a university and actually, didn’t go to culinary school until I was about twenty-three. I got a job out of high school, partied a little too hard, basically gave my parents gray hair until I pulled my head out and saved my money so I could attend the Art Institute here.”

  I nod and stretch my legs out in front of me and rest them on her ottoman. “That’s right, you were rebellious.”

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “What about me?” I reply and grin at her. Which part of me are you asking about, baby?

  “How did you become a cop?”

  “Oh, that. I did two years in the Army.” I wince and shake my head. “Caleb was much more suited for the military.”

  “Don’t like being told what to do, huh?” she asks me with a wink, making me chuckle.

  “That wasn’t it, actually. I don’t want to move around all the time. I like it here. I want to be near my family. So, when my two years were up, I came home and worked my way through college and then applied to the academy.”

  She closes the pizza box, sets it aside and lays her cheek against the back of the couch, a soft smile on her full lips. If I had the energy, I’d lean over and capture those lips under mine and kiss her mad.

  Instead, I pull her feet into my lap and begin to rub the arches of her feet. She sighs and closes her eyes.

 

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