揂ll I抦 saying is, a little dating never hurt anyone,?she tells me. 揑t抯 been so long since棓
揇on抰。 Don抰 say her name,?I snap, pointing my fork like a weapon for emphasis.
The only thing that might ruin this meat is thinking about Regina and her shit.
揃ut Lincoln, it抯棓
揌ardly just that. Ma, you know if I take any girl out, it could easily become a public matter. There are reporters out there who stake their entire careers on capturing a ten-second TikTok clip of anyone like me fraternizing. It would be uncomfortable and messy for us both. No thanks. Running Haughty But Nice is all the trouble I need. It keeps me busy, and that抯 how I like it.?
揑 know. I built it, remember??She hits me with her knowing mom look.
揑 know you did. Only, media moved slower in your time and fashion trends could stick around for years.?
揙h, media,?she mutters. 揧ou know, there must be a thousand ways to take a girl out without anybody knowing. You抮e rich enough to have some Hollywood makeup artist fix you up with a disguise!?
I try not to snort mashed potatoes.
揋reat idea, Ma. Just what I need, luring some poor girl in so I can peel my face off in front of her when it抯 time to kiss like a B-movie monster.?I pause. My mother glares, clearly unimpressed with my razor-sharp wit. 揧ou know how the Seattle press stalked me last time I was dumb enough to date. What抯 the point in making it worse by throwing someone else in the drama? I spend enough time trying to dodge them now. I can抰 even get a beer without winding up on ten Instagram posts laced with dumbass rumors the next day. Don抰 people have anything better to do than sling shit at strangers online??
She covers her mouth, hiding a laugh, even if she pretends to disapprove of rough language.
揂pparently not when it comes to handsome eligible men, or they wouldn抰 be hounding you, son. Doesn抰 the new wedding line give you any interest in romance? Doesn抰 it make you want to find a nice girl and settle down??
I pretend to think about it for five seconds, stroking my chin.
揘o,?I tell her bluntly, stabbing my fork in another piece of roast.
She stares, frowning, waiting for more when it抯 a dead subject.
揌ow about a 慼ell no??I venture.
She cocks her head. 揧ou know I don抰 give up that easily, Lincoln Burns. I want grandkids and you抮e my only child. Don抰 you think it抯 about time you deliver for your poor old mom??
揑 tried to get your Regis roll, Ma.?
揙h, Lincoln. This is a little more important,?she says, so exasperated I almost laugh.
揑s there anything I could ever do to make you happy besides grandkids? Something that will make you just as proud? I抳e added twelve billion dollars to the fashion brand you built, for crying out loud.?
Mom抯 usual easygoing smile fades into a firm arc of her lips.
She shakes her head severely.
揘o.?
揝ee? That抯 exactly why I can抰 give you a grandkid right now. You抣l just be disappointed for the rest of your life because nothing else will ever measure up. You have to wait for the right moment so you抮e not disappointed.?I fan the slightest breeze on her hopes, hoping to end this as I take another bite of buttery roast. 揑 can抰 have my mother disappointed.?I grin at her. 揃esides, I抳e gotten far enough to launch such a lucrative line because I keep business and life totally separate.?
Technically, that抯 true. I don抰 have a personal life.
Not unless you count Regis roll runs for Wyatt and the odd charity event outside work, which is good enough for me.
揟hey don抰 mix at all. Period and end of story,?I say.
揕incoln, your story hasn抰 even started,?she says, getting up to put on tea like she always does when she抯 flustered.
I wish I could say my mother knows best.
I wish I could be the good son and not disappoint her.
I wish I could pry open my heart and give someone a second chance to poison me from the inside out.
But after seeing what a heart-hacking bastard serial killer cupid can be, I抣l settle for being the rich and respected bachelor son.
A few days later, I raid Sweeter Grind for Wyatt抯 roll.
Bright and early this time.
I can抰 risk coming too late and finding them sold out again. Wyatt lives on his sugar high and that抯 how it抣l stay until he either snaps the hell out of it or forces my hand into dragging him off to treatment.
The barista makes a drink, hands it to the person in front of me, and rings them up.
揅an I help you??she asks.
The bell above the entrance dings. I glance over.
A slender blond in a black dress that hugs her body in all the right places walks in. If it weren抰 for the hair, shimmering like faded spun gold in the morning light, she抎 be the portrait of a human raven. There抯 something about her movements, graceful and birdlike, but with patience and sharp eyes that could be imposing if she settled long enough to stare at you.
Alert. Elegant. An old-world charm in her unfussy dress that licks her skin.
Something innocent and mysterious about her face, her emerald eyes, holds my gaze hostage.
Then she meets my stare, scrunches her nose, and rolls her eyes with all the disdain they can muster.
Bullshit.
It can抰 be.
With her face twisted into a scowl, I recognize her.
Goddamn if she isn抰 even more gorgeous scrunched into that dress than she was in jeans.
When she comes closer, I can抰 help smirking.
揝o you抳e come dressed like a bandit while you抮e robbing away delicious pastries today? You look like an undertaker,?I grind out.
Her mouth drops momentarily, then she tries to shake it off like she抯 only insulted. The hellcat narrows her eyes at me.
揑 have an interview, and no, Captain Dipshit, I wouldn抰 dirty my hands with you. I抎 let someone else scrape you off the ground like roadkill.?
Captain Dipshit? Roadkill?
How charming.
That green-eyed little mouth needs someone to bend her over their knee and teach her to talk nicely to strangers.
In another life, maybe that someone would be me, but I抦 remembering just how draining an encounter with this woman can be.
揘o plans to join any dead raccoons today. Sorry to disappoint you. However, I believe I will deprive you of your pre-interview sugar rush. No pastry ever made rivals sweet revenge,?I tell her.
She gives back this jarring laugh, tossing her bright hair before she looks at me like an angry lioness.
揜evenge for what? Because I beat you here last time and bought the last cinnamon roll? How petty are you??
Excellent question.
She抯 about to find out.
I flash a vicious smile at the barista. 揑抎 like every Regis roll you have, please.?
揈very梐ll of them? Every single one??The poor barista blinks.
揅orrect.?
揢mm梩here are three梐lmost four dozen today if we抮e counting what抯 in the back. Are you sure you棓
揂ll four dozen, then. A nice easy number.?
揥hoa. You and your people must really love them, huh??
I nod like I have a human soul.
In fact, the damn things are too sweet for me by far. After I drop off a few for Wyatt, I抣l put the rest out for my senior staff. They all adore these overhyped cinnamon rolls as much as everyone else in this easily impressed city.
My own satisfaction ends with the roll witch behind me, deprived of her cherished fix today.
I turn slowly, casting a heavy look over my shoulder at her.
揥ould you look at that? Some raging asshole just bought the last Regis roll. Maybe he抣l share if you offer him an insane amount of money for one梠r, better, how about an apology? Or maybe he抣l just bite into it and lick his fingers like a cat walking away from a milk truck spill.?