the future she so desperately craved but couldn’t seem to manage on her own.
She knew almost everyone in her hometown of Crimson, Colorado, but her popularity hadn’t helped her love life in recent years. Men might be addicted to the pastries she created in her bakery, Life is Sweet, but that was where their interest in her ended.
“You should think about changing your shop to a raw-foods restaurant. The one in Aspen is doing quite well.”
Katie focused on Mike, her eyes narrowing. “Are you suggesting I close my bakery? The one I inherited from my grandmother and has been in my family for three generations?” She had nothing against vegetables, but this was too much.
“Sugar could be considered a drug,” Mike continued, oblivious to the fact that steam was about to start shooting from her ears. “It’s like you’re running a meth lab.”
She felt her mouth drop open. “Okay, we’re done here.” She stood, pulled her wallet out of her purse and threw a few bills on the table. “Thank you for an enlightening evening. Have a safe drive back to Aspen.”
Mike blinked, glanced at his watch then up at her. “Should I call you?”
“I’ll be busy,” she answered through gritted teeth. “Baking in my ‘meth lab.’”
She turned for the bar. Although they’d met for dinner at the brewery that had opened in downtown Crimson a few months ago, Mike had insisted they both order water while droning on about the contaminants in microbrewed beer. She needed a good dose of contaminants right about now.
The doors to the brewery’s patio were open, letting in fresh mountain air on this early-summer night. The days were warm in Crimson in June, but because of the altitude the temperatures dropped at night. Still, there was a crowd out front, and Katie was glad for it. Crimson was a quaint, historic town nestled at nine thousand feet deep in the Rocky Mountains, with streets lined with Victorian-era houses. Crimson attracted a fair number of visitors, and anything that brought more people into downtown was good for all the local businesses, including her bakery.
Turning back to the bar, her gaze snagged on a set of broad shoulders hunched over the polished wood. Katie felt her ovaries go on high alert. Down, girls, she admonished silently.
She walked closer, ordered a pale ale from the bartender and nudged the shoulder next to her. “Hey, Noah. When did you get to town?”
“Katie-bug.” Noah Crawford’s deep voice washed over her. Then he smiled, turning her insides to mush. Of course, she’d had this response to Noah since high school, so she was used to functioning as a glob of goo. “I got in a few days ago to see my mom. What are you doing out tonight?”
“I had a date,” she mumbled, taking a drink of the beer the bartender set in front of her.
“A date?” Noah’s cobalt blue eyes widened a fraction. He normally had a good six inches on her, but while sitting on the bar stool while she stood, they were the same height.
“Yes, Noah, a date.” She grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl on the bar and popped a few in her mouth. “It’s when a man and a woman go out together in public. It usually involves more than alcohol and meaningless sex, so you might not be familiar with the term.”
“Ouch.” He shifted toward her, turning on the bar stool so his denim-clad knee grazed her hip. She felt the connection all the way up her body and gripped her beer glass harder, gulping down half the amber liquid.
“Did I do something to you, Bug? Because I thought we were friends. Hell, you’ve been one of my best friends since we were sixteen. Lately... I’m not the most observant guy, but it seems like you kind of hate me.”
She took a breath through her mouth, trying to ignore the way Noah’s scent—the smell of pine and spice—washed over her. “We’re still friends, Noah,” she whispered. “But stop calling me Bug. That was a nickname for a kid. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know that, Katie.” His tone was teasing and he poked her shoulder gently. “How was the date?”
“Stupid.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, not trusting herself to look straight at him and keep her emotions hidden. One beer and she was tipsy. She signaled the bartender for another.
Yes, she and Noah were friends, but she’d always wanted more. Noah had never acknowledged her silly infatuation. She wasn’t sure he’d even noticed.
“Stupid, huh?” She felt rather than saw him stiffen. “Do I need to kick his butt? Was he out of line?”
“Nothing like that. Just boring.”
“So why’d you go out with him in the first place?” The bartender brought refills for both of them. Katie watched Noah’s fingers grip the pint glass. His hands were big and callused from the work he did as a division chief for the United States Forest Service. He spent his days outside, and she knew he was in great shape. She did not sneak a glance at the muscles of his tanned forearm as he raised the glass to his mouth. Nope, that would get her nowhere except more frustrated than she already was.
“I’m going to have a baby.” She took a sip of beer as Noah choked and spit half of his beer across the bar. “I should say I want to have a baby.”
“Going to or want to?” Noah pulled on the sleeve of her lightweight sweater, spinning her to face him. “There’s a big difference.”
She rolled her eyes. “Want to. Would I be in a bar drinking if I was pregnant now?”
“Good point.” He lifted the hem of his olive green T-shirt to wipe his mouth just as she handed him a napkin. His lips quirked as he took it from her. His dark blond hair was longer than normal, curling a little at the nape of his neck. The top was messed as though he’d been running his hands through it. Which she knew he did when he was stressed. “Aren’t these things supposed to happen naturally?”
“Easy for you to say.” She took another drink, the beer making her stomach tingly and her tongue too loose. “You smile and panties all through the Rocky Mountains spontaneously combust.”
He tilted back his head and laughed then flashed her a wide grin. A glass shattered nearby, and Katie turned to see a young woman staring slack-jawed at Noah. “See what I mean?”
He winked at the woman then turned his attention back to Katie. “Are your panties combusting?” He leaned in closer, his mouth almost grazing her jaw.
Katie resisted the urge to fan herself. “My panties are immune to you.”
“That’s why we can be friends,” he said, straightening again.
Katie felt a different kind of clenching than she had earlier. This time it was her heart.
“Seriously, though, why would you agree to a date with a loser?”
“I didn’t know he was a loser when I agreed. I’m at the bakery by four every morning and in bed most nights by nine. My social life consists of pleasantries exchanged with customers and the occasional girls’ night out.”
“Have one of your girlfriends set you up.”
“I’ve asked. They’re looking.”
