Page 12 of Blowing His Circuit
Good. Aubrey works too hard.
"Where is she spending her days off?" I ask, knowing I can’t wait until she gets back.
Hayes stares at me for a long moment, apparently deciding I'm a man on a mission. "She rented a place Jett recommended. I'll text you the address."
I nod, looking around at the group of guys before me. They’re all happy and in love with the women fate chose for them. I don't know why I resisted for so long, but I silently vow to spend every single second of the rest of my life proving that I deserve Aubrey, if she'll let me.
"Go get your girl, man." Brooks raises a fist in support.
I grin. Oh, I intend to.
And this time, I'm not letting her get away.
Chapter six
Aubrey
The raindrops fall in cute little plops as I navigate my car down the dirt drive toward the one-room cabin that Sara's brother, Jett, recommended. Hard to believe they’re the start of a storm that has the whole mountainside preparing to hunker down for the weekend.
I look at the clock. Jett warned me to get here before evening, as the road can get washed out in severe storms.
Even though Candy had to practically lock me out of the bakery last night, I'm getting a little excited about my weekend away. A few days with limited cell service and no chores, errands, or worries. The last five episodes of my show are downloaded on my laptop, along with a ton of movies I've beenmeaning to watch, and I stocked up on baking supplies to test a bunch of recipes.
You can take the girl out of the kitchen, but you can't take the kitchen out of the girl. Or something like that.
I’m resolved to enjoy my forced time-out. Candy's right. I need a vacation, and I also need to let her do the job I hired her for. Ideally, she’ll run the retail-facing side of the bakery so I can focus on the wholesale and product side. I've already networked with local restaurants to provide some of their weekly dessert specials, and I'd like to explore the possibility of shipping items nationwide. But I’ll never get there if I refuse to hand over the reins and trust my brilliant friend to do her job.
Well, look at that. Not even through the front door, and I'm already having life-changing revelations.
My mental happy dance is short-lived, as the moment I've been obsessively ignoring for days comes screaming to my prefrontal cortex.
What about Max and the almost-kiss?
Awesome. Now that I've figured out my plans for work, I have the entire weekend to agonize over what happened in Sara and Hayes' kitchen.
Goody.
After I refused to let him kiss me, I hightailed it out of Sara's house like my ass was on fire—kicking myself the entire way for saying no, but I had to. I have no interest in becoming one of the many women throwing themselves at Max. And I'm certainly not going to make a fool of myself by letting him kiss me, then go back to him glaring at me every morning.
I sigh. Rational logic certainly hasn't stopped me from imagining the moment going a different way over the last few days. Did I mention the multiple vibrators I brought as part of my weekend essentials?
The check-in instructions tell me to park by the garage at the back of the cabin, but I want to unload my baking supplies first, so I pull up parallel to the front door. As I get out of the car, I glance at my surroundings, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Sara was right. It's isolated up here, and every horror film I've ever watched suddenly flashes before my eyes.
Isolated cabin. Check.
Spotty cell service. Check.
Doe-eyed girl willingly setting herself up to be murdered. Damn it.
I hoist my bags in my arms and trudge up the front steps. Fumbling with my phone, I enter the code into the keypad. I bend over, backing into the cabin butt first, so I can drag the heavy bags of baking supplies inside.
Why does it smell like a spring meadow in here?
As I turn, the glint of a knife is the first thing I see, followed by the hulking figure of a man.
"AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhgh!"
I scream and drop to the floor. It's my only defensive move, but it used to work wonders on my older brothers, so my instinct kicks in as I prepare to use my heel on the balls of any would-be attacker.
