Page 23 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

“I’d like that,” he says.“Eventually.”

My eyes sting.Absolutely not.I refuse to cry over chicken salad and a man who brought criminally dry cake into my bakery.

So I stand abruptly.Lunch is over.Mostly because I’m a coward.Daniel stands too, slower, careful not to crowd me.

“Thank you for lunch,” I say, very businesslike.

“You’re welcome.”

“And the estimate.”

“Also welcome.”

“And the flowers.”

His mouth lifts.“Not terrible?”

I glance at them on the counter.They are cheerful and ridiculous and sitting in my bakery like they have always belonged there.“Moderately acceptable.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You should.It’s the highest praise I offer.”

“I’m honored.”

I walk him to the back door because sending him through the front means dealing with Maisie’s face, and I’m not emotionally prepared for whatever shape her eyebrows are making.

At the door, Daniel pauses.The alley behind the bakery is quiet.Afternoon sunlight spills over the brick wall, catching in his hair, turning the darker blond strands gold.

He looks too good standing there.Too solid.Too patient.Too much like something I might want to keep.

“Well,” I say, because apparently I have forgotten all words not spoken by awkward grandmothers.“Bye.”

His lips twitch.“Bye.”

Neither of us moves.The bond hums, and his gaze drops to my mouth.Mine drops to his, and the air changes instantly, filling with heat, awareness, and a pull so strong my fingers twitch at my sides.

One step.That is all it would take.One step and I would know what his mouth feels like.Whether he kisses soft or hungry.Whether his hands shake when they touch me.Whether that restraint he wears like armor would crack if I whispered yes.

Daniel inhales slowly, then he steps back.

Not away like rejection.Away like respect.The difference is so clear it nearly hurts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, voice rough.

I nod because words are currently unavailable.

He turns and walks down the alley, and I watch until he disappears around the corner.Only then do I press one hand to my chest, right over the warm, terrifying glow of the bond.

My wolf sighs, and I close my eyes.“This is still a bad idea,” I tell her.

She does not believe me, but neither do I.

When I go back inside, Maisie is standing beside the counter holding the little flower card.

Please don’t run away.I brought carbohydrates.

Her eyes are wet.