Brutal Discoveries (4 page)

He looked conflicted and regretful as he stared at me. 

“Right,” I whispered.  Horrified.  Humiliated.  I wasn’t jumping to conclusions; the look on his face had said it all.

“Scarlett!” he snapped then he snarled, “
Fuck
,” but I didn’t stick around to hear his explanation.  I already knew what he was going to say.  So I took off out of Sherman’s, turning left onto Moores Boulevard and running the entire way home.

By the time I reached my townhouse, I was a puffing, panting, sweaty mess.  I let myself in and locked the door behind me before heading in the direction of the shower.  Once I was safely inside the large glass cubicle, I sank to my knees and finally let my tears of humiliation fall.  They mingled with the warm water that was beating down on me, before disappearing down the drain.  When I was sure I was all cried out, I stood and washed my hair and body, before stepping out and getting changed into my old, worn, but super comfortable, pink with pug puppies flannel pajamas.  I curled up on the lounge with the remote, and consoled myself watching Derek Morgan catch bad guys on Criminal Minds, all the while wishing I had my own Derek Morgan who would talk to me the way he talked to Penelope Garcia.  

That night, I couldn’t sleep.  I tossed and turned, closed my eyes, and counted one thousand and fifty four sheep, and tried to think up new recipes for the bakery.  When none of that worked, I ran myself a hot bath infused with lavender and chamomile bath oil, soaked in it until the water turned cool, and then I pulled on my pink with pug puppies, super comfy flannel pajamas and tried to find sleep once again.  It still didn’t come.  So I gave in, and thought of Aden.

The truth was, I wasn’t as sexually experienced as some.  Ella was outgoing, flirty, and adventurous in the bedroom.  Of course, I’d never actually been
in
the bedroom with her while she was doing the deed, but I had been given the rundown from the mornings after.  She was all for going out on a weekend, or a random Wednesday night, to a bar or nightclub, hooking up with a guy, and going back to his place or hers for a night of sexy times.  She wasn’t a slut.  She just knew what she wanted, and she knew how to go about getting it. 

I, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.  I had only had two different sexual partners… three if you count the dismal, forty-five second romp that was me losing my virginity with a guy named Billy Fresno when I was eighteen.  I was convinced all sex was like that, so when I started dating Mike Andrews eighteen months later, I made him wait six months before he got in.  According to me, Mike was awesome in bed.  He lasted longer than forty-five seconds (
at least
five minutes, ten if he was drunk).  Then I found out we weren’t exclusive like I thought we were when I caught him with a girl outside a café I was about to enter.  I swore off men for almost three years until Grant Henderson came along.  He was a computer programmer, an all-round geek, and while he wasn’t out and out sexy, he had a good heart that made him attractive. We dated for just over three years and the sex was… well, it was kind of boring.  Like clockwork, we only had sex on Sunday evenings, it was always slow, almost leisurely, and it was
always
missionary (him on top).  Foreplay always consisted of me giving him a two minute headjob, because any longer than that and he feared he would blow his load before he got inside me.  Then he would pinch my nipples once or twice, squirt some lube on the end of the condom, and slide inside.   Once, I tried to get him to fuck me on my knees, hard and fast, pounding into me with wild abandon, like I’d heard Ella tell me about.  But when he shut me down fast, it was no surprise I never broached the subject with him again.  We broke up when I moved into the city and he decided to stay in Fort Grove, where my parents still lived.  I’ve been on dates since I moved to the city six years ago, but I hadn’t had sex.  The vibrator Ella bought me for my birthday years ago worked just fine, and even though it didn’t give it to me hard and fast, and I didn’t feel the solid weight of a man bearing down over me, it still managed to take the edge off.

But, now there was Aden.  At just one look, he had me wishing he was hovering over me, spreading my thighs wide with those muscular legs I had no doubt he possessed.  He had me wanting to run my tongue along the tattoo that peeked out of the cuff of his shirt for however far it ran up his arm.  In fact, I wanted to run my tongue over every single inch of his delectable body.  I had no doubt in my mind that Aden would make sex un-
fucking
-believable.  Just by looking at him, I could tell he would, and could, do a woman wild, hard and fast, slow, soft and sweet.  On her knees, on her side, up against a wall, in the shower, or any other of the plethora of positions Ella had told me about.  And I bet he could use his mouth just as well as he used his hips. 

Damn!
  Now, I was feeling an ache between my legs.  I was about to reach into my nightstand to retrieve my vibrator when I remembered what I had discovered at dinner tonight.  Aden may have been unbelievably good looking, but he was also an asshole of epic proportions, who felt nothing of using his charms to take a woman to dinner, simply to gain information.  The pulse between my legs died down and I mulled that over.  It hurt, deeply, to be made a fool like that.  I bet he could smell my desperation and desire a mile away.  A man like that, looking as good as he does, probably had women throwing themselves at him hourly.  The first time he had stepped foot into my bakery, his Lust Dar (the straight guy equivalent to a Gay Dar) would have immediately started bleeping in his head, alerting him to the single, horny broad behind the counter.

That didn’t explain how he knew that I knew Damon Salt, but that was something I doubt I would ever know the answer to, no matter how much I mulled it over. 

With that, I decided Aden’s nickname was no longer Hashtag Hottie.  It was now Hashtag Asshole.

With all the energy I had been expending thinking of Hashtag Asshole, you would think I would have been tired.  I was not.  One glance at my alarm clock told me it was just after two in the morning.  There was no point going to sleep now, considering I’d only have to be up in a couple hours to go to work anyhow.  So I threw back my covers and climbed out of bed.  I splashed some cool water on my face, brushed my teeth and hair, and changed out of my pajamas into my work uniform.  I shrugged on a padded black jacket with a cool faux arctic fox hair trim, and walked to the bakery.  It didn’t take me long, since it was cold, so I walked faster than I have ever walked.  Once I unlocked the doors, stepped inside and relocked the doors, I walked past the counters, rounded the register, and made my way into the kitchen.  I flicked on some lights, turned the heaters on, and got busy baking.

By the time Macy arrived for her shift at six-thirty, I had baked more than enough to stock the cases three times throughout the day.  On top of that, I had also baked fifty loaves of bread, packaged them up, and stocked them out front on the shelves,
and
a host of bread rolls and cheesy bacon rolls.  Macy came into the kitchen as I was pulling out the final tray of Peanut Butter Cup jumbo cookies – today’s special.

“Holy moly,” she whispered.  “Did you go home last night?”

“I came in early,” I replied on a shrug as I transferred the jumbo cookies to the cooling racks. 

“Okay,” she drew out the word, giving me an inquisitive look.  “I’ll just get started on sorting out the register then.”

“Already done that,” I announced.  “You can restock the napkins and start the coffee machine.  If you’ve got time, I’d love a large hazelnut latte,” I added.  “I have some office work to do before we open.”

“No worries.”  Macy disappeared out of the kitchen and I stacked the dishwasher, turned it on, and wiped down the large stainless steel bench in the center of the room that was covered in flour, stray chocolate chips, and a bunch of cooking condiments.  After that, I went into my office, closed the door, sat down in my chair, fired up my computer, and got on with paying bills.  The doors would be opening in fifteen minutes, and I wanted to get at least some of this done, plus down half of my coffee before I had to face customers with a smile on my face.

A few minutes later, there was a light tap on my door, followed by Macy’s head poking through. “Coffee,” she said softly as she entered, the drink outstretched in her hand.

“Thanks.”  I took a grateful sip as she exited and then I got back to work.

***

It was just after eight, and Ella was due to start her shift in twenty minutes.  When I heard my cell ringing from my handbag, I gave Macy a look and silently asked if she could take over while I took the phone call.  She nodded her head so I reached down under the counter and took out my phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey, girl,” Ella greeted, sounding stressed.

“What’s up?”

“I’m going to be a little late.  I’m stuck in traffic, apparently there was an accident somewhere up ahead, and they’ve closed part of the road.  It’s a nightmare,” she groaned.

“No worries, just come in when you can.”

“Thanks, babe.  See you soon, hopefully.”

I ended the call and stashed my phone back in my bag before returning to help Macy serve. 

An hour later, Ella barged through the doors, looking frazzled.  I couldn’t help but grin at her as she marched across the floor to come behind the counter and tug on her apron, all with a scowl on her face.  Clearly she didn’t like being delayed by traffic.  Then, in front of my eyes, she pushed her frustrations down deep, locked them tight in a secret place within  herself, and turned her beaming smile on the customers lined up.  That was my girl.

“Shit,” I whispered as I spotted Aden AKA Hashtag Asshole enter Sweet Treats with Hashtag Dreamy by his side. I hid behind the coffee machine, watching as he stood in line, not so subtly looking around.  I liked to think he was looking for me, but who knew?  I filled the order I was making, snapped on a lid, and handed it to the customer before letting Macy and Ella know I needed a bathroom break.  Then I frantically, while trying
not
to appear frantic, rushed toward the bathroom.  I locked myself in the stall and breathed deep in an effort to regain my composure.  I used the facilities and then came to the conclusion that I couldn’t stay in there forever.  I had a business to run, the line was long, and it wasn’t fair for me to leave that all to Ella and Macy.  I also couldn’t escape to the kitchen because I had already baked everything for today.  I washed my hands, took a deep breath, swallowed my anger and humiliation, and walked out. 

The instant I hit the main area, I could feel his eyes scorching into me.  He wanted my attention, but he wasn’t going to get it.

“Hottie and Dreamy are here,” Ella whispered as I stood by her at the coffee machine and began helping her fill orders.

“I’ve decided to change Hottie’s name.  He’s now Hashtag Asshole.”  Ella gasped and looked at me questioningly so I quickly went on.  “I’ll explain later.” 

“Um, Scarlett?” Macy said as she sidled up to us.

“What’s up?”

“A customer has specifically asked for you to serve him,” she said.  I instantly knew it was Hashtag Asshole.  I buried the warmth I felt from having a customer request me, no matter who it was, and marched over to the register. 

I plastered a bright smile on my face and locked my eyes on Dreamy, in effect studiously ignoring Asshole.  “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Two specials,” Asshole answered, forcing my gaze his way. 
Bastard.
 

“Sure thing,” I muttered with overt cheerfulness.  I fixed their coffees in to-go cups, and then packaged two Peanut Butter Cup jumbo cookies into a box before setting them on the counter.  I rang the order up and took the money before returning the change.

“Have a nice day,” I chirped.

“You got a minute?” Hottie, I mean
Asshole
murmured.  God, why did his voice have to be so hypnotizing?  It was even
more
entrancing when it was soft and sweet like that. 

“Uh, no, sorry.  We’re swamped,” I replied, at the same time as Ella near-shouted, “Sure she does!”

Fuck.

I spun around and glared at Ella who was giving me wide eyes, probably wondering why I was none too eager to speak with him.  I turned back to Hashtag Asshole and pretended to look disappointed.  “Sorry, but I’m really too busy.  Maybe I can carve out some time for you, say sometime in the next millennium?”  I walked over and began busying myself with cleaning the coffee machine, but that didn’t mean I missed the amused lip twitch, which was shortly followed by a smirk, appear on his lips.  My traitorous body tingled and my stomach dipped, but I forced all that to the back of my mind, and carried on wiping the machine over. I didn’t watch him leave, but I
felt
it, and just to make sure, I looked out the large front windows and saw him walking down the street with Dreamy. 

Sometime later, Ella came up beside me.  “Right, we need to talk.  Now.  Your office.”

“We can’t leave the front,” I protested.  “Macy just left.”

“Yeah, and it’s a rare lull in customers,” she said, sweeping her hand around the room.  There was no huge line up, just seven customers seated between four tables through the seating area.  All were taken care of, with coffees and treats.  I knew we could spare a minute, but I just wasn’t sure I was ready to get into this with Ella right now.

“Fine,” I huffed when she kept her narrowed eyes on me in an insistent glare. 

I followed her through the kitchen area and into my office.  She closed the door almost all the way, except to leave it open an inch or two so we could hear if any customers needed us.

“What gives?  Yesterday, he was Hashtag Hottie.  Today, he’s Hashtag Asshole and you’re refusing to have a
private moment
with him.  Spill, Everett,” she demanded, and I knew she was serious.  She only ever called me by my last name when she was deadly serious.

“He’s an asshole,” I shrugged simply, thinking this would explain everything.

“How do you know?”

Ah, shit.  She caught me out.
  Dammit. 

“Well, last night he was waiting for me after I closed, or
I think
he was waiting for me.  Either way, I ran into him,
literally
, outside after I locked up.  He blocked my path, asked if I ate, and then told me to go to dinner with him.  I declined.  He said
please
.  I gave in and went.  We didn’t talk much, we ate, and then we started talking.  After all that, I was starting to let the butterflies in my stomach that appeared every time he was near, fly loose. 
Then
, he asked me how I knew Damon Salt. 
That
was when I realized he was just using me for whatever he was using me for, and I got the hell out of Sherman’s,” I explained.