When five whole minutes went by and she still hadn’t realized her mistake and thanked the heavens above for such a blessing, he’d glared at her and waited. When a few more minutes went by, he’d realized that she’d probably hadn’t really heard him over the loud motor of the industrial mixer, which of course explained everything.
So, he’d reached over, went to press the power button to shut the mixer off so that he could give her another opportunity at a chance of a lifetime when the little bully slapped his hand and continued adding ingredients as though she hadn’t just physically assaulted him.
Pouting the way only a Bradford could, he’d folded his arms over his chest and waited for her to finish, apologize for the unwarranted abuse and commence with the tears of pure joy when she realized the honor that he was bestowing on her.
Did that happen?
No, of course it didn’t.
So, he made one more attempt to shut the mixer off, received another slap for his efforts, a murderous glare as she continued to ignore him. His hand had literally flinched with the need to spank her beautiful ass again, but he’d somehow found the willpower not to do that…at least, until she’d given him no other choice. Just when he was about to pull the stubborn woman over his knee, the unexpected happened.
Her grandfather showed up and man, had he been pissed. Before Duncan had a chance to explain himself or ask Necie to give him a minute so that he could apologize, something that he was going to do no matter what it took, the old bastard had been holding a very large meat cleaver and showed him the door.
Since the meat clever had been aimed towards his still healing balls, Duncan had been forced to accept defeat and leave. Before the door managed to close behind him, old man Dixon let him know that he was now officially banned from Dixon’s Bakery.
He would have argued with the bastard, but he’d also taken that moment to tell Duncan to stay away from his granddaughter as he slammed the front door shut in Duncan’s face, leaving him standing there, fuming.
Nothing pissed him off more than being told what to do and his cousins and brothers trying to keep him from the busy bakery in front of him knew that. They knew him well enough to know that he didn’t fuck around if there was something that he wanted.
Coming between him and his goal was a huge fucking mistake and the only ones that seemed to have realized that were his Uncles, who had been smart enough to stay out of this. He kept his gaze locked on that front door and waited, because there was no way in hell that he was going to be given the brush off again, not when he was this fucking intrigued.
“Seriously?” she asked even though she knew that it was pointless to argue since the man that had apparently lost his mind was completely serious.
“You’re not going out that door,” Grandpa said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would somehow make him look even more intimidating.
Granted, the employees that had been eavesdropping had taken that as the sign to move their asses and go back to work, but it only irritated Necie. “Move,” she said, mimicking the gesture and meeting his cold glare head on.
“Not happening,” he said, shaking his head just enough to get his point across as he continued standing there, doing his best to frighten her, but for whatever reason, he’d never accepted the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him.
Well, she was sure that at some point he’d realized the truth, but had probably taken it as a challenge, which could also be said for the stubborn man refusing to vacate the sidewalk across the street from them.
“I’m tired and going home,” she said, refusing to point out that she’d been working since three this morning, because he was already well aware of her work schedule today since he’d insisted on accompanying her in to work this morning and had refused to leave her side since.
For all twelve hours of her shift, he’d been right there, watching her, standing next to her, following her and refusing to give her a single moment of peace. She didn’t even want to think about the bathroom incident, which she’d only made the mistake of making once.
Since once had been more than enough, she’d done her best to ignore him, but it was kind of difficult to ignore an ex-marine determined to watch her every move. A few times she’d tried to distract him with phone calls, paperwork that really didn’t need his attention and when she became desperate to use the bathroom without him hovering, a platter of double fudge cupcakes, but nothing worked.
For the past twelve hours he’d watched her every move, driving her closer and closer to the point of insanity, and possibility first-degree murder. When she told him to stop it, he’d simply reached over, gave her a condescending pat on her head and told her to move her ass so that they could prepare for the lunch rush. Glaring, and making plans to pick up a bottle of dried liver flakes to add to his boiled chicken and potato dinner that she was making him for dinner tonight, she moved to walk around him, but he simply ignored her, wrapped his arm around her and lead her towards the backdoor, uncaring that she was fuming or planning her revenge.
“My van is parked out front,” she bit out between clenched teeth even as she was forced to reach over and slap the back of his hand when he tried to sneak a double fudge brownie off a platter.
“I had it moved before lunch,” her grandfather said with a triumphant sigh when they reached the back door. Then, without another word, he opened the back door, gave her a little push to kick her out and then promptly closed the steel door behind him with a deafening click, leaving her all alone in the alley that made up the back parking lot.
“Alright then,” she said, shaking her head in disgust as she hugged her backpack tightly to her chest, shot nervous glances around the basically clean and well-lit back parking lot and focused all of her attention on the brand new black Dixon Bakery delivery van that had been paid for by the lovely insurance company that couldn’t seem to find a clause to cancel their policy no matter how many “accidents” or “incidents” that seemed to happen when she was behind the wheel.