Every Kind of Heaven. Jillian Hart
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He probably just oversaw projects. He was Roger Donovan’s son, right?
She lifted the back and slid out the bakery box, and Rex bounded up to sniff at it.
“Hey, buddy, these are not for you.” Ava might be charmed by the big cuddly dog, but she wasn’t that big of a pushover. “Sit.”
The retriever grinned up at her with every bit of charisma he possessed.
“Look at him drool. That can only mean one thing. There must be doughnuts in that box.” There was Brice, as large as life, wrapping one big, powerful hand around the canine’s blue nylon collar. “Need any help carrying those?”
“I suppose you like doughnuts, too.”
“Guilty.” His warm eyes and dazzling grin, those dimples and personality and his hard appearance made him look good down to the soul.
She had been fooled by this type of guy before, but not this time. “These are not for you. They are for your crew. For the men who actually work for a living instead of walking around owning companies.”
“Hey, I work hard.”
“I don’t see a hammer.” She reached for a second box, but he beat her to it. It was heavy with big thermos-type coffee canisters. “I see you eyeing the thermoses and no, you may not have any of that, either. Not unless you’re a construction dude, and I don’t see a tool belt strapped to your waist.”
“That’s not fair. My tools are in my truck.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure they are.”
Brice shut the door and hit the remote. Rex bounced at his hip, the dog’s gaze glued to the pink bakery box. “You know I’m the on-site manager of this project, right?”
“I’ll have to see it to believe it.” She snapped ahead of him with that quick-paced walk of hers, her yellow sneakers squeaking with each step. “I still don’t get why you’re here. Why I’m plagued with you and that dog of yours.”
She eyed him like a judge awaiting a guilty verdict, but she didn’t fool him. Not one bit. He saw in her eyes and in the hint of her smile what she was trying to hide. He wasn’t the only one wondering.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one wishing.
“Where do you want these?” he asked of the stuff he carrying.
She gestured to the worn wooden counter in front of them, where she’d set the bakery box and was lifting the lid.
He did as she asked and nearly went weak in the knees at the aroma wafting out from the open box. Sweet cake doughnuts, the comforting bite of chocolate, the richness of custard and the mouthwatering sweet huckleberries that glistened like fat blue jellybeans.
“Where did you get these?” The question wasn’t past his lips before he knew the answer. “You made these. You.”
“Okay, that’s so surprising? I’m a baker. Hel-lo.” She rolled her eyes at him, but it was cute, the way she shook her head as if she simply didn’t know about him. Yep, he knew what she was trying to do. Because whatever was happening between them felt a little scary, like standing on the edge of a crumbling precipice and knowing while the fall was certain, the how and what of the landing was not.
She pulled a bag of paper plates from her big shoulder bag, ripped it open and pulled out a plate. She slid the berries-and-cream-topped doughnut onto the plate and handed it to him. “I saw you eyeing it.”
Had she noticed how he’d been looking at her? He thought she was two hundred times sweeter than that doughnut. “How about some cups?”
“Here.” She pulled a bag of them from her mammoth bag. “Which doughnut should I give your dog?”
Rex gave a small bark of delight and sat on his haunches like the best dog in the world. His doggy gaze was glued on the bottom corner of the bakery box.
“He’d take every last one. Don’t trust him if you leave that box uncovered.”
“Oh, he’s a good guy. It’s you I don’t trust,” she said with a hint of a grin. “You said you traded with Mr. Montgomery. I want to know why.”
Just his luck. He filled two cups with sweetened, aromatic coffee and handed her one. “How about grace, first?”
“I’ve already had my breakfast.” She took the coffee.
Their fingertips brushed and it was a little like being hit by a lightning strike from a blue sky. His heartbeat lurched to a stop. What was it about Ava that seemed to make his world stand still?
She gave him another judgmental look like a prim schoolmarm as she put a glazed doughnut on a second plate. Rex’s tail thumped like a jackhammer against the scarred tile floor. She knelt to set the plate on the floor.
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