The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (64 page)

I close out Reese’s text message and pull up Juls’ contact info.

“Hey, sweets. It’s so weird you called. I was just thinking about you.”

I grab a pillow and stuff it underneath my head. “Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Ian filled you in on my afternoon of fun?”

The sound of chips crunching enters the phone. “Hmm? No. What afternoon of fun? Ian’s working late tonight, and I haven’t talked to him since before lunch.”

“I had a run-in with Bryce after giving Reese a lap dance in his office.”

The loud, crinkling sound of the chip bag fills my ear. “Chips aren’t cutting it. I need real food. Have you eaten yet?”

“Um, no. But did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, and you can fill me in on every single detail when you meet me at Fletchers. I’m dying for a burger the size of my head.”

My mouth waters instantly.
Carbs? Hell yes. Fuck you, salad. Nobody wants you
. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, stepping into my ballet flats. “Okay. I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Standing up, I grab my keys off my kitchen counter, freezing in place when the BMW emblem catches my attention. I should tell Reese where I’m going. Even if I was avoiding him earlier, I’m not anymore. And coming home to an empty loft and not knowing where I am would surely make things worse. I open a text message as I lock my door behind me.

Me:
Going out to dinner with Juls. Be home later.

After parking behind Juls’ black Escalade, I walk into Fletchers and spot her at a table in the back. She waves at me with one hand, her other popping a few fries into her mouth.

“Sorry. I hope you don’t mind that I already ordered for us. I’m crazy hungry,” she says, chewing behind her hand.

“Not at all. You know what I like.” I grab a seat, taking a quick sip of my water and watching in amusement as my best friend inhales her plate of fries. “Pregnancy cravings kicking in?”

“Nah. I’ve just been busy all day with wedding stuff. This is my first actual meal today.” She pushes the plate of fries to the middle of the table and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “All right. Spill it.” She tosses her napkin onto the table before leaning back in her chair.

“Do you promise not to go into hurricane-mode in the middle of this restaurant?”

“Depends,” she replies, motioning with her hand for me to continue.

I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity. “Reese bought me a car and had it delivered to the shop this morning. But not just any car. A BMW.” A knowing smile spreads across her face, prompting me to lean forward with interest. “Did you know anything about that?”

She shrugs dismissively. “I may have given my opinion on car color. He was going mental trying to decide on his own.”

I picture his frustrated state and it brings a smile to my lips. “I can imagine. Anyway, I wanted to really wow him with a thank you for such an undeserving gift.”

She holds up her hand, halting my speech. “Dylan, you deserve the world and that man will give it to you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

I feel my cheeks flush at the compliment. Grinning, I issue her a wink and she gives me one in return. “So, I put on my sluttiest lingerie, covered myself with a trench coat, and went to his office.” I pause, crossing one leg over the other and seeing a small smile play at the corner of her mouth. “I gave him a lap dance, which he appreciated greatly at the time, and when I was leaving, Bryce got in the elevator with me. I would’ve been creeped out had he not touched me, but he did. He got right up against me and made crude comments about my outfit. And then he slid his finger down my neck.” I mimic his move and Juls shakes her head, her face taut and her fingers tapping on the table.

“What did you do?”

“Kneed him in the balls.”

“Good. Continue.”

“I knew I had to tell Reese about it, so I called him as soon as I got back to the bakery. And you know what he said? That I shouldn’t have been wearing that outfit and that I once again drew attention to myself. I didn’t even get to tell him what happened. Once he put the blame on me, I hung up on him. And then when he couldn’t get a hold of me on my cell, he called the shop phone and Joey told him Bryce touched me.” I glance down at the table cloth, rubbing my fingertip along the seam. “I was so pissed off at him for blaming me for it, but now that I haven’t seen or talked to him in over four hours, I’m not pissed. I’m hurt more than anything.”

“Because he made it seem like it was your fault for what happened?” I nod in response to her question. “I can see why you feel that way. It wasn’t your fault and Reese knows that. But he’s extremely protective of you; he always has been. And hearing that you were put into another situation with Bryce when he once again wasn’t around to protect you I’m sure infuriates him. And when guys get angry, they say shit they don’t mean. Ian does it all the time.” She takes a sip of her water, prompting me to do the same. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many petty arguments the two of us get into because he says stuff without thinking. I swear to God, I think testosterone has some sort of negative effect on all rational thought.” I laugh, grabbing a fry and popping it into my mouth. “I can’t believe that fucker touched you. Reese didn’t come to the shop after finding out that information from Joey?”

I shake my head. “No. And he stopped trying to get a hold of me. I’m actually considering calling the local jail to see if he’s been locked up.” I grab the small vase sitting on our table and place it on the empty table next to us. Juls gives me a questionable look and I remember she doesn’t know about the flower on my van. “After my fitting the other night, I found a rose on my windshield. I had this gut feeling it wasn’t from Reese. That’s so not something he would do. He’s way more romantic than that.”

Juls crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips. “That asshole put a flower on your van? That’s fucking disturbing, Dylan. You better call the police if he comes into your shop.”

“I will.” I had already decided that. There is no way I am going to let him into my bakery again. That prick has officially crossed the line.

“I was ready to kill that tool at the club when he was running his mouth. But now? I will seriously take pleasure in dismembering him. I’m not just stellar at planning weddings. I’m resourceful, too. I can make a shiv out of practically anything.”

I giggle at my heated best friend as the waiter arrives at the table with our meals. And then my laughter fades immediately as I survey the Cobb salad placed in front of me.

Goddamn it.

I grit my teeth, glancing up at Juls who is smiling widely at me, obviously finding my order humorous. “What the hell is this? I thought we were destroying burgers.”

“I never said we.” She points her manicured finger at me. “You have a dress to fit into, sweets. And as your Matron of Honor and wedding planner, it is my job to make sure everything goes as planned for Saturday.” She picks up her giant, heavenly-looking burger and brings it to her lips. “Besides, Joey told me you had three cupcakes today.”

I scowl at her as she takes a massive bite. “Seriously? He told you that?”

“Yup,” she says through a mouthful.

I grimace, poking my lettuce with my fork. “I don’t know how people eat this stuff all the time.”

She moans softly, catching an evil look from me. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

And I can’t help but laugh at the sight of her, thoroughly enjoying her burger and not caring in the least that she’s eating it like a caveman. All of her table manners have been left at the door as she takes bites that would rival Reese’s. I eventually dig into my salad after my stomach starts growling at me, but I don’t enjoy myself nearly as much as Juls. I do however enjoy her company and the conversation that stays far away from eerie elevator encounters. We talk about her upcoming doctor’s appointment and how excited she is to possibly hear the baby’s heartbeat. We talk about my wedding and the fact that my mother has also been harassing her with phone calls about last-minute alterations, and we wrap up our meal with talk of my honeymoon to the Cayman Islands. Two weeks with Reese in a bathing suit is the second thing I’m most excited about in terms of upcoming events. The fact that it’ll be my husband I’ll be staring at for those fourteen days is still strongly holding the lead.

As it should.

After saying goodbye to Juls, I head back to the loft, expecting to have it out with Reese as soon as I arrive. I mentally prepare myself for our discussion as I set the alarm at the front door before walking through the bakery and up the stairs. But when I step through the door, a dark, empty space greets me instead of his expectant scowl. And then I remember what Juls’ said about Ian working late. Reese is probably still stuck at the office, and when he does work late, he usually isn’t home until after 9:00 p.m., which gives me another hour before I could be expecting him.

I grab an empty box off the floor and sit it on the bed. Packing should help me pass the time, and even though Reese wanted to do this for me, he shouldn’t have to. This is my stuff, and I’ve accumulated a lot over the past three and a half years. I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I also am not one to throw away anything that holds even the tiniest bit of sentimental value. I’ve kept every movie stub, concert ticket, and playbill holding a Juls and Joey memory. I’ve kept every thank you note I’ve ever received from a customer. But probably my most prized possession is the tin I keep on my dresser that holds all of Reese’s love notes to me. I grab it, sitting down next to the box and popping off the lid on the tin. I thrum through the contents with my fingers, scraping along the tops of the cards. Every now and then, I’ll blindly reach in and grab one, reading it and reliving every emotion I felt when I first opened the tiny brown card. I have every single note in here, even the first one he sent me that I thought I’d thrown away. But Joey had grabbed it for me while I was delivering my apologetic blow job in Reese’s office after slapping him for thinking he was married. I had no idea he kept it until he gave it to me at my bridal shower last month as part of my gift. I cried when I read it that day, which I suppose was funny considering how I reacted to it the first time. But that note started everything. If Reese hadn’t sent it to me with the bag of flour, I’m not sure what would’ve happened between us. Maybe we would’ve eventually seen each other again at some function involving our two best friends, but maybe not. So even though his first note to me is an apology for fucking up and not one that spells out how much he loves me, it’s still my favorite.

Next to the one he gave me with my engagement ring.

After packing up a good amount of clothes and what I won’t be using the next three days, I stack the boxes in the corner behind my decorative screen and get ready for bed. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and even though I’d like to stay up and wait for Reese to get home, I know he’ll wake me up if he wants to talk about it tonight. And I’m too tired not to crash hard right now. This day has been exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, and as I cuddle up on my side of the bed, I find myself missing not only the wedding stress that was once my only concern, but also the man who blankets me better than any down comforter.