“I know a WTF meme is flashing above your head right now, but try them on. If you don’t like them, I’ll look the other way when you hand them over to Ella.”
Jada laughed. Dude had a sense of humor. Who knew? She’d indulge him by trying on the shoes, but she was positive her flats would do the trick. She slipped on the clogs, trying not to wince at how they made her feet look like they belonged to Mickey Mouse.
Donovan stood, holding out a hand. She grasped it and let him pull her to her feet. She flexed her toes.
“Oh. My. God.” The shoes were like little plush pillows that cradled her feet and felt amazing. Angels in heaven were weeping with joy. She was never taking them off. Like ever ever. Crocs were life.
“Good, huh?”
She wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, but she couldn’t. “Thank you. As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right. I do like them. I guess this means you weren’t just being nice when you said you weren’t trying to get rid of me.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Jada studied him. “You’re not going to rat me out to Grams.”
His lips pursed. “I did think about telling your grandma. That was the ‘or else’ part of the text.”
“I knew it!”
“But I never had any intention of following through on it.”
Her hands landed on her hips. “You really were just trying to rile me up to get me to show up.”
“I was.”
“Impressive. A word to the wise, though. Never ever refer to her as Grandma. She’s much too grand for that title, as she reminded me, my sister, and my cousins repeatedly growing up. Grams is the only acceptable term she would allow. According to her, it is the perfect combination of stately and comforting.”
He smiled. “I do love that woman.”
Genuine admiration shone in his eyes. Any person who could appreciate the force that was her grandmother was okay with her. “Me, too.”
“So, truce?” He held out his hand. His large hand engulfed hers.
She sucked in a breath at the innocuous contact. Jada forced a smile to hide her reaction. “Truce.”
She was going to ignore that weird, quick flare of something wicked and pleasurable that flowed through her every time they touched. It was … nothing.
He aggravated her. She aggravated him, and that was just the way it was. She was not going to repeat the mistakes from her past, like falling for guys too hard too fast, no matter how not right they were for her.
She was here to make sure she gained control over her trust fund so she could fully take control over her life. That’s all that mattered. Well, not completely.
Now that she was here, she wanted to prove she was capable of more than almost （even though not really） burning down a kitchen. She hadn’t asked for this job, but now that she had it, she wanted to prove she could do it. She didn’t want to see that disappointment on his face again. She’d seen that same disappointment on too many other faces throughout her life. Operation: Jada Gets Her Life Together was officially on.
She squared her shoulders and met Donovan’s gaze. “I promise to do better.”
That’s all that mattered.
Chapter Eight
Donovan studied Jada out of the corner of his eye while he made a fresh pot of coffee. She was across the room chatting and laughing with a table of customers. They hadn’t spoken since their meeting in his office an hour earlier.
“So look,” she’d said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think baking is for me.”
Had “baking” ever been uttered with such distaste and mistrust before? “Giving up already?”
Her shoulders deflated while a shadow crossed her face. “Quitting while I’m ahead.”
And he felt like shit all over again. Damn. “Hey, I really am sorry for yelling at you.”
“I know,” she’d said with a brief smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before escaping.
Instead of going after her, he’d stayed in his office because what else was there to say? Besides, he had work to do—ordering supplies, paying invoices, staring at yesterday’s dismal sales numbers, and not thinking about how the simple act of touching Jada’s ankle had made him hotter than he’d been in too long to contemplate. Her ankle. Good Lord. Had he transported himself to the Victorian era? And then she’d smiled at him—really, smiled—after the comfort and amazingness of the Crocs had sunk in. He’d felt like he’d been sucker punched.