Chapter Thirteen
1253 Words
Chapter Thirteen
Adalia stared at the page of text, fingers tracing the words again and again. It was the second warning from the bank. She had a week now, one week and they’d take the business for collateral damage.
The cash register was in front of her, the bakery was empty as usual and she was alone.
There was no fragrant aroma of baking chocolate buns or croissants. There were no cupcakes to be iced. Even her regular, the old lady, hadn’t come in for her éclairs.
There wasn’t money for marketing, and even if she marketed and brought in more customers, there wouldn’t be money to hire help to fulfill those orders.
How had it come to this?
She’d started with hopes and grand dreams. She’d envisioned an empire for the family, a legacy for her children if she ever had any. Adalia snorted, not that she’d ever have time for that or a man worthy of being a father to them.
“This is the end,” she whispered to herself, then slid the paper to the side of the register. She opened it up and glared at the lack of money. “This is what it’s come to.”
There weren’t any breaks.
She needed a loan to kick start the business, but she couldn’t afford to pay off the last one. Had she spent unwisely?
Adalia slapped the drawer closed. She was so tired of doubting herself about this! She’d tried damn hard to make it work, but it was never enough.
The bell over the door tinkled and she blinked, hope erupting outward with each beat of her heart.
It crashed down around her ears. Nope, not a customer.
“What are you doing here?” She turned her back on Trent, swept up her duster and reached for the shelves behind her. She’d stacked empty biscuit tins, vintage of course, up there for decoration and they gathered a shocking amount of dust.
Not that any of it mattered now.
“We need to talk about what happened.”
“No, we really don’t.” Adalia continued dusting, sweeping the feathers over her tins gently. She’d put so much care into this place, so much love and care because it was her dream. Her true passion and it was about to be snatched away because she couldn’t make it work.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers, and that stung the most. She couldn’t make it work. She had failed.
No, it wasn’t over yet. There had to be a way to solve this.
Trent cleared his throat but she ignored it and placed the duster beneath the counter.
“What’s this?”
She frowned and turned to him, then froze. Shame colored her cheeks and she rubbed them, then reached over and snatched the notice from the bank out of his grip.
“Mind your own business.”
“Looks like you need to mind yours,” he answered, but his tone was peppered with concern rather than disdain. “Adalia, I want to see you succeed at this, and I can’t deny that I’m worried.”
“I don’t need your concern or your pity. I’ve never needed it and what happens in my life is truly none of your business,” she said, forcing her palm toward him. “Back off.”
He grabbed her and pulled her closer, bending her over the counter so his nose was against hers. “I’ll never back off. I never back down when I want something.”
“You got what you wanted the other night.”
“What are you talking about?” He released her and walked to one of the tables. He lowered himself into a chair and folded his hands on the surface.
There was hardly any traffic on the road outside, but for a stray car every few minutes. An old Mazda puttered down the road, breaking the tension between them and settling a layer of comfort over their conversation.
“I don’t want to discuss this with you, Trent. I’m over it. I’m over you, too.” Blatant lie, but what the hell. She had to get him out and it was the only way to do that.
“What are you talking about?”
Adalia clicked over on the anger meter. “You wanted s*x from me, you wanted a conquest and you got it. You didn’t even have the damn courtesy to walk out of there without hurling insults and judgment. I don’t need that in my life.”
She judged herself enough for the both of them.
“That’s what you really think.” Trent sighed, shoulders shifting up and down under that suit. Armani again? “I told you I want you for you, for more than just a conquest. I’m not that kind of guy, Adalia.”
“I don’t care what you say.” She denied tears. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself over this! She’d been fooled and that was that.
Trent rose and walked around to her side of the counter. She took a few steps back to distance herself, but he rushed forward and pressed her up against the wall.
“I want you for you, not for your body or your mind, or any single part of you. I have no agendas.”
“Right,” she breathed, rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to bite his lip.
“I want what’s best for you. I want you to succeed.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you,” he whispered, brow wrinkling then smoothing again. “How can you not know that?”
She slid her hands up his chest and rested them on those defined pecs, than gave a tiny moan. He was so delicious. A white chocolate treat and she’d unwrap him and gobble him up if she got the chance.
Adalia pushed him back and he let go, then leaned against the hip-height counter.
“What’s going on here?” Trent gestured to the bakery, and she gave a mighty sigh. She still wasn’t sure of him yet, but she needed to talk.
“The bank’s going to take it away because I can’t pay off my loan, and I don’t have any customers.”
“Maybe you just haven’t put yourself out there enough. What’s your marketing budget?”
“I don’t have one. I used every cent I got setting this place up and even if I could market, I wouldn’t be able to supply new customers with enough products to meet their demand because I can’t afford to hire any help.”
Poor Jenny, she missed that girl. She’d been such a help in times of trouble. She’d been with her from the start. And now it was the end.
“So get another loan.”
“How am I supposed to get another loan when I can’t even pay off the last one?”
“I’ll loan you the money.” Trent paused then spread his arms wide, as if he expected a hug. “Hell, I’ll even give it to you, no catch. Totally obligation free.”
Adalia stared at him long and hard. She didn’t consider the proposition - that was out of the question - but she had to take him in. He thought he could throw money at any problem and it would go away, probably because that’s how he was raised.
“No thank you,” she replied, with too much curtness.
“Why not? You need the help, and I’m willing to offer it.”
“I’m fine, thanks. I don’t need your money.” A slow burn had started in her belly.
“I think you do,” he answered, motioning to the empty room.
“I don’t want or need your money, Dawson. Everything I have, I worked for, and I don’t take handouts.” She straightened and folded her arms. “Unlike you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t take handouts. I’m sure you’re used to them, but I’m not. I have some dignity left.” Adalia smirked, even though she didn’t find any of this amusing.
“I’ll see you around.” Trent didn’t argue, but an expression of pain – not anger – flashed across his face.
The bell over the door tinkled to signal his departure.
- Writer
