Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) (9 page)

“HAS ROAD LEF
t yet?” Natalie asks, sipping her latte.

Both Blair and Natalie are in the kitchen at La Dolce Vita. Natalie is watching Blair roll out peach fondant for a two-tiered, lace wedding cake.

Blair spreads the fondant over the table. The wedding colors are peaches and cream with a sky blue accent. The bride brought in fabric samples to show Blair, along with pictures of the flowers and venue. She’s seen so many weddings that she’s become almost immune to them, but sometimes there’s still one that takes her breath away.

If she ever gets married again, it won’t be at city hall, that’s for sure.
Of course, if I ever get married again, it will be to a man who loves me, not one who’s marrying me out of obligation.

“He was still asleep when I left this morning, but he’s leaving today.”

“What happened with Isadora?”

Blair grabs a palette knife to cut the gum paste mixture from a lace mold. “I still have her keys.”

What she doesn’t mention is that she had to search through Road’s stuff to find Isadora’s keys. He didn’t give them back to her last night. Luckily, he left his backpack on the chair. She’s surprised he was so trusting, but then he had no reason to distrust her.

It was an underhanded thing to do, but there’s no way she’s letting him take Isadora.
Road may have her title, but I’ve put a lot of money into her. I think that gives me some sort of claim.

And luckily, she didn’t see anything suspicious in his bag, either. Though he probably would have gotten rid of anything illegal by now.

“Do you think that will be the end of it with Road?” Natalie asks.

“I hope so.”

I mean what’s he going to do?
Besides, possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?

A couple hours later, as Blair is bent over putting the finishing touches on a birthday cake, Carlos, one of their baristas, comes back looking for her.

“There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“A guy. Tall, blond, and straight-up hot.”

Blair sighs. She only knows one guy who fits that description. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

She stores the birthday cake in their large back fridge then goes over to check herself in the employee bathroom mirror. Dabs on lip gloss. She suspects she knows why he’s here.

“Is that Road?” Natalie and Ginger both ask when they see her headed toward the front. The bakery is worse than a sorority house sometimes, everybody knowing everybody else’s business.

Blair sighs. “Tall, blond, and straight-up hot?”

They both nod. “
Very
hot,” Natalie says with a grin.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Ginger gives her a look. “If that was my husband, I’m pretty sure I’d never divorce him. Maybe you guys should try and work it out.”

“Not this situation.” Blair doesn’t bother taking her white chef’s coat off. She wants Road to be reminded that she’s at work and doesn’t have time for any big discussions.

She heads out front and sees him right away, standing near their pastry case. Her insides do their usual flutter at the sight of him.

He nods. “Hey, princess.”

“I’m working, so I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

He reaches down and takes her hand. His hand is warm and dry, and his touch makes her breath catch. She feels him put something into hers.

“What’s this?” She looks down in surprise. He’s given her the Honda keys.

“Not planning to take much of your time. Just stopped by to get the keys to my car and give those back to you.”

Blair shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you Isadora’s keys.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you heard me.”

Road goes silent, stares at her with his eyes laser-focused. They narrow. “No, don’t think I
did
hear you correctly. Sounded like you just told me you’re keeping my car.”

“I believe I have a claim to her.”

“No, you don’t. Now hand over the keys.”

“I’ve spent thousands on her so, yes, I do have a claim.”

“Said I’d write you a check, remember?”

Blair doesn’t reply, just turns her head back toward the kitchen to indicate she needs to get back to work.

“Cut the shit, Blair. Give me the keys to my car.
Now
.”

She hesitates at the demand in his voice, but then remembers how Road abandoned Isadora, just left her sitting in the driveway. He didn’t care.
I care, though
.

“No,” Blair tells him.

Road is studying her. “So, this is how you want to play it?”

“I’m not giving you Isadora. Like I said, she’s mine.”

Road lets out a frustrated breath.

“Feel free to use the Honda for as long as you need it. I think that’s generous.” She holds the Honda’s keys out for Road, dangling them between two fingers.

He glances at them and steps closer to her, speaking in a low growl. “You don’t want to tangle with me, babe. Trust me, you’ll
lose
.”

“We’ll see.”

The two of them stay that way. Blair sees the way he’s assessing her. She doesn’t back down, though. Instead, she meets his assessment head-on and, in fact, starts doing some assessing of her own. She already knows Road won’t back down if he thinks he’s right.

But I’m the one who’s right this time
.

He smirks then reaches over and grabs the Honda keys from her hand. Without another word, he stalks out of the bakery.

Blair spends the rest of the afternoon wondering what Road’s next move is going to be.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. What can he really do? Take me to court?
That will take months. And besides, he’s not going to want to tangle with the authorities, not if he’s involved in anything illegal.

After checking through her work calendar, she notices she’ll be delivering two cakes on Friday and four on Saturday. Some brides pick up the cakes themselves, but others, especially when it’s a multi-tiered cake, opt to pay extra and have Blair deliver it for them. She and Natalie bought a used refrigerated van and either Ginger or Carlos helps her with deliveries.

On the way home, she stops at Home Depot and browses through the paint section again, gathering more samples for her second bedroom/soon-to-be office. She thinks about Road’s comment that white is a funeral color in Asia.

Maybe I should add some color.

She then gets annoyed with herself that anything Road said would have an influence on her. Instead, she grabs more beige and white color swatches.
There’s nothing wrong with beige and white!

When she pulls into the underground parking garage for her condo, she’s surprised to see her silver Honda is in its usual parking spot. Apparently, Road decided he didn’t want to use it after all.

I’m sure he knows plenty of people who would be happy to loan him a car. Plenty of women, especially.

As she heads up in the elevator, she has an uneasy feeling, like she’s forgotten something. She’s not quite sure what it is, but the closer she gets to her door, the feeling only gets stronger. When she finally puts the key in the lock and steps inside her flat, it all becomes clear.

The first thing she notices is the smell of food cooking, and the second thing is Road in front of the stove cooking it.

For a moment, she remains still. A swirl of emotions flood through her—joy and longing, but they only last a split-second before it all turns to anger. She walks over to the island and puts her purse down on the chair. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

“Cooking dinner.” He reaches over for the pepper mill and grinds some into the pan of food.

“No,” she says icily. “What are you doing
here
?” She’d left a detailed note for Road this morning instructing him to lock her door then stick the key in her mailbox downstairs afterward. Clearly, he didn’t follow instructions.

“Like I said, babe. Cooking dinner.”

“You were supposed to put my key in the mailbox this morning.”

“Guess not.”

“You kept my house key?”

“Looks that way.” His eyes slide to hers, and there’s a lazy expression on his face she recognizes. It’s the one he always wore when he was scheming something and wanted to appear innocent. It was usually directed at Tori or one of his friends when he was pulling a prank. She’s never seen it directed at her before.

“I want it back. And then I want you to leave.”

Road smirks, doesn’t reply and instead keeps stirring the pan of what she now recognizes is chicken stir fry.

“And don’t start with me on the irony of all this, either. Keeping my house key is not the same as me keeping Isadora!”

“Whatever you say.” Road brings the spoon to his lips to taste the dish. Blair’s mouth waters. She hasn’t eaten since noon, and though she’s loathe to admit it, the food smells delicious.
Since when can Road cook?
As she recalls, the most complicated thing he knew how to make was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Do you want a taste?” he asks.

She glares at him. “I want my key back.”

“Guess we both want something then.”

Blair tries to see a way out of this. There’s no way she’s going to give him Isadora. Not in a million years. Unfortunately, that leaves only one other option. She doesn’t want to do it, but Road isn’t giving her a choice. She takes a deep breath. “If you don’t give me my house key and leave, I’m calling the police.”

Road turns toward her, his expression stunned.

She crosses her arms. “I’m completely serious.”

His brows go up as he stares at her in amazement.

“I’ll do it, and I know you don’t want that.”

But then his expression changes again. This time, it’s humor. White teeth flash at her, eyes full of mirth. She hasn’t seen Road laugh in a long time and forgot how much she liked it. He has a great laugh.

Unfortunately, this is not the response she was expecting. Far from it, actually.

He’s laughing so hard now that he actually has to put the wooden spoon down and rest his hands on the counter.

“I fail to see what’s so amusing,” she says.

“Damn, princess.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “The police?” And then he starts laughing all over again.

But Blair has had enough. “Stop laughing! This isn’t funny. You kept my house key, and now you won’t leave. That’s practically breaking and entering!”

This only makes him laugh harder.

“You think I won’t do it? That I won’t call? I will. I’ll call them right now!”

Finally, Road takes a deep breath and seems to gain control over himself. “Go ahead, call the cops. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You don’t?”

“Course not. I’m not the one
stealing
something.” He gives her a look.

“I’m not stealing Isadora!”

“That’s not how it looks from over here. And that’s not how the law is going to see it, either. All I have to do is show them the title to my car.”

Blair is quiet.

“Hell, maybe I should call them myself, now that I think about it.”

She shoots him a dark look.

He picks up the spoon and gets back to his chicken stir fry. “Told you not to tangle with me, babe.” But then he grins. “Besides, what would you tell them anyway? That your husband refuses to leave home?”

“This isn’t your home.”

He looks around her condo. “I like it here.”

“No, you don’t. You told me it looks like an Asian funeral parlor.”

“Not exactly what I said.”

“Close enough,” she grumbles.

Road lets out what sounds like a weary sigh. “Do you want a beer?” He goes over to the fridge and opens the door. “Think we could both use one.”

“No.”

He reaches in and comes out with two bottles. She watches him search through her kitchen drawers until he finds the opener. When he’s done, he hands one over.

“I said I didn’t want it.”

Road puts her beer on the counter next to her and goes back to cooking. She watches him take a long draw from his bottle as he continues with the stir fry.

Studying him from the side, she has to admit he looks sexy standing there making dinner. He’s wearing the same faded jeans and T-shirt from earlier. His blond hair tucked behind his ears.