Page 5 of In the Shadows (The Club)
One quick shift and then home again, home again. Hoo-fucking-ray.
***
Vivian was beat. It had taken her forever to get home last night thanks to a botched fondant on a retirement cake. At least she'd been able to fix it and finally leave Divine Twins. By then though, it was much later than usual and she'd had the unnerving suspicion that someone was watching her. The discovery of another envelope stuck in the door confirmed her worst suspicion and had sent that now-familiar frisson down her spine, leaving her cold and shaking. She'd grabbed it from the door, only to fumble her keys and drop them. When she'd finally looked up, she'd seen him.
Shadow Man. Her strange guardian angel who always seemed to be leaving work in one of the ancient, beautifully designed buildings across the street whenever she was showing up to her bakery. When he was out, no strangers hung around. She never felt nervous around him. If anything, it was like he was protecting her under the umbrella of his own fuck-off attitude.
The guy stuck to the solitude and anonymity the antique wrought-iron street lamps afforded during the still-dark hours of the morning. He was the only man who could send an electric shiver over her skin with just a flick of his eyes. It wouldn't have mattered if there were ten streets between them, the base carnality that seeped from his skin would still set her on fire. She refused to let him see how much he affected her, so she'd waved like always and hurried off.
It was stupid to admit she'd spent most of the night scissoring the sheets of her bed while dreams of his face between her legs, his tongue teasing her clit, his breath hot against her thighs, kept her from her rest. All the sleeplessness of an erotic one-night stand, but none of the release.
So far, this morning hadn’t been much better. Throw in Yvette's continued illness, Lisa's running late due to a missed school bus, and Vivian was barely holding together her sanity. Then the coffee had run out and she'd finally had a break and for some weird reason there wasn't a letter waiting for her upon her arrival...
"Excuse me–?"
Vivian jerked at the question, scattering coffee grounds across the counter. Perfect. Breathe, she reminded herself. Don’t let the stress get to you. There are customers to help. A sneaky part of her added, Customers with sexy Irish accents.
“Sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The rough, deep voice tugged low in her belly. She ignored the mess and looked over her shoulder with a cheery, albeit fake, grin in place. "Not a problem," she promised. “How can I help y-?" Her voice trailed off when she met the blue eyes of the man standing near the cash register.
Speak of the devil and he shall be summoned. Shadow Man.
She’d never seen him clearly before. She’d simply known him by his silent confidence and intimidating size. She’d spent months wondering what he actually looked like, what the blackness of the shadows hid from her. Now she knew.
Her mouth dried at the sight of him. His dark blond hair was on the verge of a pompadour, a bastardization of a military buzz cut and modern style. A tight black t-shirt under a worn black leather jacket showed a chiseled physique, one cut from heavy, functional muscle. Soft, worn, pale jeans hung from his hips, leading down to a pair of worn black shitkickers. He wasn’t beautiful. His jaw was too square, nose too straight, lips too strong, and shoulders far, far too broad to fit that word.
No, definitely not beautiful. Powerful. Primeval. A man who was probably only a step more advanced than ancient warriors who were as likely to kill as to claim a prize.
His eyes searched her face, their intensity sending a lance of heat through her. Just a look left her wet and shifting awkwardly behind the counter. She hadn’t reacted this strongly to a man in...well, in forever. And in this close of proximity, she was a goner for sure.
A pale eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth quirked, as if he knew what inappropriate thoughts were running through her head.
“Sorry,” she croaked. “How can I help you?”
“One of my mates said you have soda bread for sale.”
Thank God. An excuse to refocus on her work instead of him. “It’s a good thing you got here early,” she said, moving toward that section of the display case. “I usually sell out in the mornings, especially at the beginning of the week. How many do you want?”
“Just one.”
One? So...no one to share it with? “Are you sure? They’re pretty good.”
His leather jacket stretched over his back as he bent to look in the case. She crouched from her side, watching him through the clean glass. His eyes were slightly narrowed, focused on the carefully crafted individual loaves dotted with either raisins or currants. His jaw tightened, lips flattening, and her pulse fluttered. Surely a man that good looking would have someone to share with.
She couldn’t resist finding out. “I bet your girlfriend would appreciate you bringing her breakfast.”
That got a reaction. Their gazes met through the case and his smirk would have set her panties on fire if they hadn’t already been soaked.
“Subtle,” he said. The sarcasm lacing the word was sharp
, but his next words softened the blow. “There’s no girlfriend in the picture.”
“Oh.” Great, Vivian, because that phrase totally hides how freakishly nosy you are. “Then how about a second loaf for later? One of each?”
He chuckled, the sound little more than a rumble in his chest, and shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope.” She ignored the spark of pleasure that came from having his attention focused on her and quickly bagged two of the freshest loaves. “Want a coffee to go with that?”
