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      “Eight weeks? Give or take a day or two.”

      She gave him the look she used on her kids to warn them they were two seconds away from being banished to their rooms. Dillon didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Figures.

      She began to pace. “There’s no way I can afford to lose two months’ worth of business, especially during the holidays. Besides losing local sales, I’ll be missing out on a huge chunk of revenue generated by tourists—”

      “Kitchen’s still functional.”

      She stopped so quickly, her ponytail hit her cheek. “But I don’t have a place to display what I’ve baked. Plus, without any place to sit and eat, I’ll lose the breakfast and lunch crowds, not to mention foot traffic from people out shopping. Even if I put up a sign that says we’re still open, how many people are going to notice in all this mess?”

      He set the estimate on the table. “Yeah. That’s tough.”

      “Tough?” Her voice rose. “I’ve worked my butt off trying to make this business a success. I have daily specials planned for the entire month. I’ve even booked a few holiday parties plus a girl’s eighth birthday party where the kids can eat lunch, play games and bake and decorate their own cookies.” Her breathing grew ragged, and spots formed before her eyes. “Where am I supposed to do all of that? In the kitchen?”

      Nina tried to catch her breath, to get herself under control again. She’d blown it. She’d overreacted, just like Trey always said she did. Lost her temper when she knew better. She rubbed her cheek. If she raised her voice to Trey and his oh-so-reasonable tone didn’t get her to calm down, his stinging slaps did.

      “What does any of that have to do with me?” Dillon asked, seemingly unaffected by her outburst.

      She frowned. That was it? The man really was an enigma.

      “You said you were finished at The Summit and I was hoping…” She swallowed, then rushed on so fast her words slurred together. “I want to hire you to do the renovations.”

      She held her breath until the silence stretched out so long, she grew dizzy and had to exhale.

      Finally Dillon stood and asked, “What makes you think I don’t have other jobs lined up?”

      She rubbed the base of her bare ring finger. “I heard no one will hire you after the murder investigation.”

      After a second of stunned silence, he asked, “You always believe everything you hear? Because if I did, I’d believe you were emotionally crushed when your ex-husband left you. And that if he ever returned, you’d take him back in a flash.” He waited a beat. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

      She remembered being the top subject of the rumor mill. But instead of letting her humiliation overcome her, she made a show of looking him up and down. “What are you, a secret member of the Red Hat Society? I thought only old women gossiped.”

      His lips twitched. “Maybe you can hold your own after all.”

      “I can,” she lied. “But just because you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth in rumors, either.”

      She’d rather use margarine and artificial sweetener in her recipes than go back to Trey, but she had been crushed when he’d left her for another woman. Oh, not her heart—that had just been bruised—but her ego. Her pride.

      She’d give just about anything to get even a tiny bit of that pride back.

      “So. Do you have any other jobs lined up?” she asked.

      “Nope.”

      “Great. So will—”

      “No.”

      She shook her head. “What?”

      “I won’t work for you.”

      “But why not?”

      “I’m not going to be here.” The intensity of his gaze pinned her to her spot. “You wanted me gone, remember?”

      She opened her mouth. Shut it again. Shoot.

      “Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “Good luck finding someone to take the job.”

      She leaped forward. “You can stay,” she blurted, clutching his arms, “in the apartment. It’s not like I can afford a tea room now anyway.”

      His brown eyes were guarded. “You didn’t evict me because of a tea room.”

      “That was nothing personal—”

      “Doesn’t matter.” His hands were large, warm and surprisingly gentle as he disentangled himself from her grip. “I’ve come to expect people to treat me a certain way, and so far, they haven’t disappointed me.”

      Shocked, she stared at him. Is that what she’d done? All she’d wanted was to get her family and Trey off her back. And yes, maybe to give herself some peace of mind by asking Dillon to leave.

      But she hadn’t meant to hurt him.

      “Dillon, I’m so sor—”

      “Don’t be. You did what you had to do and now I’m doing what I have to do. Find someone else for the job because I’m not interested in saving you.”

      

      HER CHEEKS turned pink. He wondered if Nina’s skin was a soft as it looked. Man, she smelled good.

      “But, if you don’t have any other jobs, you could work here,” she insisted. One thing for her: she might be a cupcake, but she was a stubborn cupcake. “I’m sure you’d be done by the end of the month.”

      “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “Except I’m leaving after the wedding.”

      “You could wait. Aren’t you celebrating Christmas with Kelsey and her family?”

      “I hadn’t planned on it.”

      “Please,” she said hoarsely. “Please.”

      Damn it. He didn’t want to feel bad for her.

      “Nina?” A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and round, wire-rimmed glasses opened the door, holding it wide for Kyle to walk in. The kid’s too-large feet shuffled against the linoleum, his thin frame lost in a pair of baggy jeans and sweatshirt, his left wrist wrapped in a light blue cast.

      The man glanced at Dillon before focusing on Nina. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. We’re on our way back from our lawyer’s and Kyle has something he’d like to say to you.”

      The kid’s shoulders slumped, his eyes hidden by his shaggy, brown hair. The man—Dillon assumed he was the kid’s foster father—cleared his throat.

      Kyle lifted his head and shook his hair back giving them all a glimpse of the nasty purple bruise on his forehead. But he still didn’t meet Nina’s eyes. “I’m sorry for the accident. For the trouble.”

      Nina’s lips tightened. She opened her mouth, then shut it, her face flushed, her eyes flashing. Dillon’s lips twitched and he ducked his head as he waited to see what she’d do next.

      She inhaled and her expression cleared. Dillon suspected he was the only one who realized her smile was completely fake.

      And the way she kept hiding her true feelings from everyone was really starting to bug him.

      “Accidents happen,” she said in a high, chipper voice. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”

      “Nina,” the other man said, “can I talk to you? In private?”

      “Of course. Come on in the kitchen.”

      “I’ll be right back,” the guy told Kyle who just shrugged.

      Dillon needed to leave,

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