Page 5 of Unbroken

“You’re sweet, Miles, but you shouldn’t hold out hope for little ol’ me. I can’t see myself ever leaving this place, and I’m just not a long-distance kind of girl.”

His answering smirk unnerves me further. There’s a smugness behind it that puts me off. “Once I get you to my place, I think you’ll change your mind, Wren. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” He winks. “I want to prove that I’m more than just my bank account.”

Ugh. And this is another reason why we would never work. He’s giving me the creepy used car salesman vibe, trying to sell me on a life I ran far away from. Not to mention, dismissing the fact that my diner is here. I guess he just figures I’ll give up everything I’ve built for him and for all the lavish things he can “buy” me. He doesn’t realize that I’m not interested in going from rags to riches. I grew up in that life, surrounded by people who chose their friends solely on how nice they dressedand what type of car they drove. Everyone wanting to keep up with the Joneses. And my parents… They were Mr. and Mrs. Jones, making sure they had the best of the best, and hoping that everyone envied them.

I didn’t fit in in that life. It made me feel empty inside. No love. No warmth. Just a cesspool of shallowness. And I certainly am not interested in going back to that life no matter how easy things may be. I’d rather pound dough day in and day out just to keep this place running than be back in that world.

“Like I said.” I smile. “I wouldn’t hold out hope for us being anything more than friends. But anytime you want to swing on by for some baked goods and a hot cup of coffee, you know where to find me. Now, can I get you something?”

He suddenly shifts forward, leaning right into my ear, and I’d move back except his hand is braced on my arm, keeping me locked in place. “You don’t have to play hard to get with me, Wren. I don’t care if you’re just a little baker girl from this small Podunk town. I fucking love the moviePretty Womanand would have no qualms showing you off to my friends. I’d buy you the wardrobe and take you to the finest places.”

And so much for thinking he was the king of charming. He’s like the douche friend in that movie, making me feel like trash.

“And don’t say no just yet.” He brushes his mouth across my ear, making me tremble with disgust. “You haven’t had my dick between your legs. It will rock your world.”

And just like the douchey friend, he’s acting like I’m a whore who will just spread my legs for him.

God, he’s an arrogant ass. It’s amazing how first impressions can be so misleading. Even second and third impressions don’t reveal the truth. But I should know better. You can date a guy for an entire year and not know what’s behind the mask. But eventually the truth is revealed, and you’re left feeling empty. Which is why I’m perfectly happy staying single. The plastic dickthat I have tucked inside my nightstand doesn’t give me any false hope or lead me astray. It doesn’t come attached to a man who will end up disappointing me and breaking my heart. It shows up when I need it, gets the job done, and then goes away. It’s the only dick I will ever need in my life.

“Do you want to try the pumpkin loaf?” I ask, moving toward the glass case, trying to get out from under his hold. “Or if you like lemon, then our lemon tarts are not to be missed. They’re one of my biggest sellers.” I plaster the smile back in place, counting down the seconds until I can go lock myself in the office and be done with people today.

His answering smirk sends another shiver down my spine. “I’ll have one of the cherry tarts. Cherries are my favorite. Red and ripe, and oh so sweet.” He leans in again. “I think the reason you’re so nervous is because you’re still holding that cherry of yours. Am I right?”

And there he goes presuming I’m a virgin and assuming that’s why I’m playing hard to get. If he doesn’t leave my sight soon, I’m liable to shove the damn cherry tart all over his high-end suit. Goodness, I can’t believe how wrong I was about him. Then again, I’ve always been wrong when it comes to men. I get sucked in by the good looks and the smooth words and realize too late that it’s all a lie. This time though, I didn’t fall. Mainly, because I no longer have a heart to fall with. It’s still locked up in a cell and burning in an inferno of hell.

“Here you go! One cherry tart.” I place the bag on the counter, ignoring his irritating comment. “That will be five-fifty, unless there’s anything else you want.”Please just go. Please just take your pastry and get the hell out of my diner before I make a scene.I don’t want to be the gossip of this town. And if I go telling off Mr. Moneybags, everyone will have something to say about it.

“There’s definitely something else I want, Wren. But I’m a patient man.” He slips a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change, pretty girl. And buy yourself something sexy to wear on our date. Preferably something short and tight that will show off all your incredible curves.”

He just can’t help himself, can he? It’s likeslimyis his middle name. And for some reason, he thinks he’s charming my socks off and enticing me with his comments. The only thing he’s enticing me on is running out the back door the next time his fancy car drives through town. The next time he shows his face, I’m going to have to be blunter with him. Although, he’ll probably think I’m just continuing to play hard to get and making him work for it. Somehow, I’ll have to make my message clear. Maybe I’ll start wearing my grandmother’s engagement ring. Then when he shows up, I can flash it in his face.

“Thank you,” I force the words out. “Hope you have a safe drive back.”

“Until next time, pretty woman.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes and bite my tongue from telling him never to come back. The moment he’s out the door, I breathe a sigh of relief and count backwards from ten. Trying to settle my nerves as I watch him through the window, visualizing taking my key to the side of that pretty red sports car I know he loves so much. He probably thinks of it as his baby. Yet, it’s just a hunk of metal on wheels.

“Honey, why in pray tell did you turn that man down?” Fran comes up to my side, staring longingly as Miles climbs into his car. “That boy wants to sweep you off your feet and take you out of this place. You should let him.”

She obviously didn’t hear what he whispered in my ear, and she definitely doesn’t know my past, so she will never understand my reasons. Although, knowing her, she’d probablythink what he said was sexy. I’m just too jaded that I find it annoying.

“He’s not my type,” I state, reaching for a coffee mug and filling myself up a cup to take back to the office.

“Child, that boy is everyone’s type.” She shakes her head. “You know…” Her voice grows serious, motherly. “You can put that smile on, but I can see it, Wren. I can spot a broken heart from a mile away. And let me tell you this. If he ain’t here, if the one you’re pining over ain’t banging down your door, realizing he made the biggest mistake of his life by lettin’ you go, then he ain’t worth a lick of your time. You’re a golden soul. Somethin’ truly special.” She gives me a wink. “You deserve happiness. You deserve love. And you definitely deserve to get some dick.”

“Fran!” I gasp at her crassness, looking to see if any of the customers heard, but Mr. Granley is the only one in close proximity, and he still has his nose in his newspaper as he sips his coffee, completely unaware of Fran’s shameless comment.

“Just sayin’.” She clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “Even if you don’t want to marry the guy, ain’t no harm in takin’ him for a little test drive. A nice long ride could do you some good if you know what I mean.”

She waggles her brow, and I’m shaking my head. The old coot reminds me of my granny. No filter and one very dirty mind. Granny didn’t fit in in my parents’ world either. Every time she came to visit, my mother would snap at her for the way she spoke, and eventually, it got to the point where she wasn’t invited to our house anymore. As a kid, I was told it was because Granny was busy during the holidays. “Cared more about her redneck trashy friends than her family.” But when I came to stay with Granny, after my heart was ripped into shreds, I learned the truth. My mother was embarrassed by the “crass woman,” so Granny was no longer welcome at our house.

When I read the letter my mom had sent her, I decided right then that I was done with my parents and their shallow life. And I haven’t been back since. Not that I’ve been invited either. I was the daughter who went against the grain. The girl who didn’t want to have a personal chef, but instead, wanted to spend her life cooking for people. I was the girl who dated a roughneck from the wrong side of the tracks. A boy covered in “evil sins,” aka tattoos, who ended up in prison. I brought shame to the Gallagher name, so when I left, my parents probably breathed a sigh of relief. And they haven’t reached out since. They haven’t once checked to see how I’m faring in this world, but they probably don’t care. I honestly think them having a child was just part of checking the status box.

“You’re twenty-five,” Fran states. “Now’s the time, girl, before them eggs of yours turn into prunes.”

She’s not going to let up. And I definitely don’t want to get into all the reasons why I’m not interested in dating right now. I’m already feeling rough for the wear, and I don’t need to drudge up any more rotten feelings. So, I plaster on a smile and say the only thing that’s going to get her off my case.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “The next time he asks, I’ll consider it.”