Page 21 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

“I haven’t tried it.”

“It’s always dry.That cake tastes like sadness and poor choices.”

He slowly pushes the cake aside.“I apologize.”

“You should.”

“I’ll do better.”

“You will not bring outside cake into my house again.”

“Your house?”he asks with a quirked brow.

“My bakery.Same thing.”

His gaze moves around the space, taking in the shelves, the chalkboard, the jars of cookies, the window boxes full of lavender.When he looks back at me, his expression is quieter.

“It feels like you,” he says.

I pretend to be very busy opening a container.“You don’t know me.”

“I know.”

“Then how would you know what feels like me?”

“I don’t know all of you,” he says.“But I know this place is warm, stubborn, pretty, and a little dangerous if handled wrong.”

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth, and my heart does that flipping thing again.

Rude damn organ.

“That was almost smooth,” I say.

“I’m improving.”

“Don’t get cocky.”I point my fork at him.

“I make no promises.”

We eat, and it’s shockingly easy.That bothers me.

I expected awkwardness.I expect the bond to sit between us like a panting wolf with no manners.It is there, of course.I feel it every time Daniel reaches for his drink, every time his fingers flex around the fork, every time his eyes linger on my mouth.

But he talks about normal things.The porch swing he fixed for Mrs.Bell.The library door that sticks when it rains.The fact that Mr.Phelps pretended not to need help carrying feed bags, then nearly fell into the display of garden gnomes at the hardware store.

I laugh more than I mean to.Daniel is funny in a dry, understated way.He does not perform for attention.He says ridiculous things like they are facts and lets me decide whether to smile.

It’s unfairly effective.

“So,” I say after a while, because letting him ask all the gentle questions feels too vulnerable.“Why a handyman?”

His shoulder lifts.“I’m good at fixing things.”

“That sounds like a line.”

His smile fades at the edges.“I moved around a lot.Packs always need someone who can repair a roof, wire a barn, rebuild a fence.Being useful gets you fed.”

The words are casual, but the scent beneath them is not.Loneliness has a scent too.Not like pity.Not sour but more hollow.Like cold air moving through an empty room.