Chapter 5

• Cade found him out back behind the bakery, boots kicked up on the bumper of his truck, hat tipped low while he pretended to fix a hitch that didn’t need fixin’. Truth was, Beau Walker hadn’t got a damn thing done since Sadie bent over the tailgate an hour ago — all that sweetness and soft skin and that mouth too smart for its own good.
• Cade didn’t bother with hello. Just thunked a cold Coke bottle down next to Beau’s boot. “You watchin’ my sister or the damn bugs in that tree line?”
• Beau flicked the brim of his hat back with a grunt, cracked open the Coke. “I’m fixin’ this hitch.”
• Cade snorted. “You’re starin’ at my baby sister’s ass like you forgot how eyes work.”
• Beau took a long pull, let the sugar burn his throat. Didn’t say a word.
• Cade leaned his shoulder to the truck, arms crossed, the same pose he’d used since they were sixteen and caught stealing his daddy’s whiskey. “Listen — she’s got that old building in her head, big dreams. But you know Sadie. She’ll half-kill herself liftin’ sacks of flour and tryin’ to fix plumbing with duct tape.”
• Beau smirked. “Sounds like her.”
• “So,” Cade continued, ignoring the grin, “I need someone to help her get the place decent. Demo the busted shelves, fix that front step before it breaks her damn ankle. Little stuff.”
• Beau let the bottle dangle from his fingertips. “And you want me.”
• “You’re handy. You’re free. And you ain’t scared to tell her no when she’s pushin’ too far. Hell, she listens to you more than she does to me.”
• Beau barked a rough laugh. “No, she don’t.”
• Cade’s eyes narrowed just enough to catch it — that flicker Beau didn’t hide fast enough. “Yeah, well — you watch her, alright? You help her. And don’t let any of these dumbasses around here try and put their hands where they shouldn’t.”
• Beau didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the bottle cap into the weeds, watched it spin.
• “I’ll keep an eye,” he said, voice low. “Don’t worry.”
• Next morning, he was there before she even unlocked the door. She looked surprised when she spotted his truck parked half up on the curb. Surprised — but that little grin tugged her lips anyway.
• “Well, look who’s keen,” she teased, jiggling the key in the old lock.
• Beau pushed off the fender, straightened his hat. “Cade told me to help.”
• “Mm-hm,” she hummed. “And you always do what Cade says?”
• He ignored that, stepped ahead of her to shove the sticky door open. Inside smelled like fresh paint, lemon cleaner — and her. Vanilla, warm sugar, some soft floral thing that clung to her skin when she brushed by him carrying a fresh box of baking trays.
• She’d put on music on her old crackly Bluetooth speaker. Some sweet old George Strait tune drifting through sunbeams and floating dust. And she — hell, she looked like a sin dressed up for Sunday service.
• She was barefoot today, boots kicked by the back door. On her was a little white cotton dress — cinched at the waist, flared soft over her hips. Not an inch of bra strap in sight, the neckline low enough he caught a glimpse of soft freckled skin every time she leaned forward. He shouldn’t look. He looked anyway.
• They’d pulled out old counters the day before — left a wide open space that needed new shelves. She stood smack in the middle of it, arms crossed, lips pursed as she studied the wall like she could see the future there.
• Beau stepped behind her, close enough her hair brushed his arm. “What’s this look for?”
• She startled, half turned, and that’s when he saw it — her nipples pebbled tight under the thin cotton, the faintest outline of a tiny barbell catching sunlight through the loose weave. It hit him like a truck to the chest. He knew girls got those. Hell, he’d had one or two. But Sadie?
• His eyes dropped — just a flick, but she caught it. She knew. Of course she did. That mouth curved slow, like warm honey turning mean.
• “Eyes up, cowboy,” she teased. “You helpin’ or undressin’ me with your brain?”
• He bit the inside of his cheek, forced his eyes back to hers. She smelled like fresh dough, sugar, and a little sweat from moving boxes. It did things to him he didn’t want to name.
• “You standin’ here in that little nothin’,” he grumbled, voice rougher than he wanted. “Tryin’ to run my damn blood pressure up.”
• She laughed — bright, filthy. “I’m wearin’ a dress. It’s hot.”
• “It’s short.”
• “You worried about my thighs, Beau?”
• He clenched his jaw. “Worried you’re showin’ more than you mean to.”
• She stepped closer, tipped her head up until he had to look down at that wicked grin. “Who says I don’t mean to?”
• He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The music spun on behind them — something soft, sweet, old enough to make his chest ache. She smelled like every dream he shouldn’t have.
• Sadie patted his chest — right over that muscle that’d started pounding the second she bent over that truck yesterday.
• “Relax, cowboy. I’ll be good.”
• She turned on her bare heel, hair swinging behind her, humming off-key to George Strait while she bent at the waist to tug another box off the stack. The dress rode high on the backs of her thighs. Beau swore under his breath. Turned to the half-busted shelf. Slammed his hammer down harder than needed.
• He was gonna help her. Like Cade asked. Fix the place up. Keep her safe.
• And if he burned alive for it — well, that was just what he got for teachin’ a little country girl how to catch fire.