Page 22 of Fierce-Baker

“Same,” he said, pulling the last four bags out of his trunk and putting them on the ground. No reason to stand there with them in his hands and the trunk open. “I didn’t know you lived in this development.”

“I’ve been here about a year,” she said. She tapped the stroller lightly. “I figured it’d be a good place for Micah. Lots of sidewalks. Not as many cars. And the neighbors are pretty quiet.I needed a space with no stairs. And here I am rattling on like I do.”

He didn’t have a problem with her talking. Her soft voice that carried over his skin like the light breeze on this hot July day.

“Yeah,” he said. “Quiet’s one word for it.”

She laughed, warm and easy and the chills that raced down his spine had no business doing it while she was standing there with her kid. “Do you live here?” She nodded toward his townhouse.

“I have for about three years now. Upstairs.”

“Guess it’s a small world.”

He wanted to say something clever, but his brain went blank. Because suddenly he wasn’t thinking about groceries or accidental meetings. He was thinking about her hair pulled up in a messy bun, her cheeks flushed from the walk, and how natural she looked pushing that stroller.

Not something he should be noticing.

Not something he shouldwantto notice.

“Micah,” she said, smoothing a hand over the toddler’s light brown curls, “this is Baker. He works with Mommy.”

Micah stared at him with big round eyes the same light blue as his mother’s, then immediately dropped a plastic dinosaur at Baker’s feet.

She groaned. “Sorry. He throws everything when he doesn’t want to do something.”

He crouched and picked up the dinosaur and then handed it back. “It’s all good. I do the same thing.”

“Youstillthrow things when you’re frustrated?” she teased.

He felt his mouth twitch. “Only on Wednesdays.”

She laughed again, more tingling in his body, and this time he only wished it was down his spine and not in his fucking shorts.

“Well, we’ve got a few more laps before nap time. Or maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be sleeping before I get home. Which is the plan. But… I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding like an idiot. “See you.”

Tasha started down the sidewalk, pushing the stroller with that confident, easy stride, and he stood there holding his groceries, watching her go, wondering why his chest felt too damn constricted.

He exhaled, shook himself back to reality, and muttered, “Great. Just what I need.”

And carried the groceries inside like they suddenly weighed twice as much.

Once he got inside, he kicked the door shut with his heel and dropped the grocery bags on the counter. Everything inside them shifted, clattered, or bruised, and he didn’t give a single damn.

He braced both hands on the counter and stared at the granite like it was responsible for all his problems. For all his confusion and even his dreams in the past week.

Tasha. Inhisdevelopment.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

And it made him wonder if Jolene Fierce knew that. Could she have?

Was it really possible the woman would go to those lengths?

For days he wondered if Tasha knew what Jolene was up to. Then he said of course she did. Everyone did.

But did she know it washim?