Page 36 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

“Did you dream about him?”I choke on my coffee, and Maisie’s eyes light up.“Oh, my God.”

“I burned my tongue.”

“You burned your dignity,” she counters.

“You’re so fired.”

“You keep saying that, yet here I remain, employed and emotionally invested.”

The front bell jingles before I can threaten her with a baguette, and Daniel steps inside.My heart, that treacherous little moron, trips over itself.

He’s wearing dark jeans, work boots, and a faded green t-shirt that makes his eyes look warmer, more golden.His hair is messy, like he ran his fingers through it too many times.There’s a cardboard box tucked under one arm and a paper bag in his other hand.

He stops when he sees Maisie’s shirt.Then he slowly reads the front.His gaze lifts to me.

I point at Maisie.“I had nothing to do with this.”

Daniel’s mouth twitches.“I like it.”

“Don’t encourage her.”

“She seems very committed.”

“She’s a disease.”

Maisie presses a hand to her chest.“A disease with excellent instincts.”

Daniel’s eyes move to mine, and the bakery tilts the way it always does now.Less violently than that first day, but deeper.Like the bond has stopped crashing through the door and started settling into the walls.

His scent reaches me.Cedar.Rain.Wolf.

My wolf sighs, and I grip my coffee tighter.

Daniel lifts the box.“Parts came early.”

I blink.“You said three days.”

“Carl found someone driving through from the city.I bribed him with cinnamon rolls.”

“My cinnamon rolls?”

“I paid for them first.”

“That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

“I value survival.”

Maisie coughs, “Team Handyman,” and then ducks into the back before I can throw something.

Daniel sets the box on the counter.“I can do the repair after closing.”

“You work all day and then want to come fix my mixer at night?”Even I can hear the surprise in my voice.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it needs fixing.”