I step out of the elevator, hearing the doors ding close behind me. Hmm. Kneeing assholes in the balls is just as satisfying as slapping them across the face. Maybe a bit more.
Thanks a lot, Bryce. You’ve just given me a new favorite go-to move.
25
I’m putting every safety feature of my new car to the test as I drive back to my bakery. I’m fuming, more mad than I can remember ever being as I weave in and out of traffic and keep the pedal pressed against the floorboard. Thank God this car has those sensors that alert you when you’re too close to a vehicle in front of you, because I’m definitely not paying attention to prevent that on my own. My mind is elsewhere, the vision of Bryce cornering me in the elevator and the feel of his finger against my neck overwhelming my thoughts. I’ve never felt invaded like that before. Not even when Justin put his hands on me. And his hands left bruises. But this? How Bryce touched me? This was different.
I kept my cool for the most part in the moment, but now I’m feeling the aftershock of the encounter. My nerves are completely shot, my chest is so tight I’m finding it difficult to take in a deep breath, and the urge to consume the one thing I’ve been told to avoid until Saturday is stronger than ever. I know I have to tell Reese about this, and that’s making my anxiety level rocket off the charts. It’s one thing if Bryce verbally creeps me out; that I can handle. But he put his hands on me. Well, a finger, but still, he touched me. And I’m no longer worried that Reese might do something that could get him into trouble, because I know he’ll be smart about it and he deserves to know what just happened. I’d sure as hell want to know if some bitch laid a finger on Reese. And I’d be pissed if he kept that information from me, so I’m going to tell him.
After I park my car behind Sam, I storm down the sidewalk and swing the bakery door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. Joey and Brooke are behind the counter, both of them focusing on me immediately and halting their conversation that, for once, looks pleasant.
“What’s wrong? You look pissed,” Joey correctly observes. “Did your thank you not get received well?”
“That’s not why I’m pissed.” Storming into the back, I feel Brooke and Joey on my heels as I grab the glass that’s been sitting in the middle of my worktop. Not even bothering to pick the flower out of it, I chuck the glass and its disturbing contents into the trashcan, the sound of it breaking echoing around me.
“Jesus. What the hell happened?” Joey asks.
“Yeah, Dylan. You look ready to murder somebody,” Brooke adds.
I ignore both of them and make my way up the stairs, knowing Joey will be following me. I swing the door open and step behind my decorative screen, ripping my coat off and throwing it onto the bed.
“Dylan, what’s going on?” Joey asks from behind the screen, genuine concern in his voice. “You’re kind of starting to freak me out a little.”
I grab some clothes from my dresser and throw them on the bed. “Reese didn’t leave that flower on Sam the other night. Bryce did.”
“What? Are you fucking serious?” Joey grunts out.
“That asshole from the club?” Brooke’s voice fills the room, and I’m momentarily shocked she was concerned enough to follow me up the stairs. But she is Juls’ sister, after all, and Juls would definitely follow me.
“Yeah, the asshole from the club. He cornered me in the elevator after I thanked Reese for my car. God, I fucking hate that guy.” I button my jeans and grab my shirt just as Joey walks out from behind the screen.
“What do you mean he cornered you? What happened?” Joey asks.
I clench my eyes shut at the memory of it. “He pushed up against me.” I open them, turning my head and seeing Joey’s alarmed expression. “Right in my face, Joey. I kneed him in the balls, but I should’ve done worse than that. He put his fucking finger on my neck.” I shiver, reaching up and rubbing my skin raw with my hand. “Jesus, I’m so grossed out right now.”
“He touched you? Oh, fuck that. I don’t care what you say, cupcake. I’m telling Reese about this. And if I ever see that motherfucker again, I’ll risk jail time.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Brooke says, stepping up beside Joey. She flips her dark hair off her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “He seems worthy of a good beat-down. One I’d personally like to deliver.”
Reaching for my coat, I grab my phone from the pocket. “You won’t have to tell Reese. I already decided he needs to know about this. I was just waiting until I wasn’t putting myself and others in danger to tell him. He’d flip out if he knew I was talking on the phone while driving.” I sit on the edge of my bed, dialing Reese’s office number and placing the phone to my ear. I look up and notice that neither one of my employees have moved from their spot. “Would one of you like to go downstairs in case someone comes in to buy something? We can’t all be up here.” Joey turns to Brooke who gives him a look like she shouldn’t be the one leaving. “Or both of you could go. I don’t really need an audience.”
Joey snaps his head in my direction, his eyes narrowing on mine. “I take offense to that, but fine.” He grabs Brooke’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you what to do when someone comes in with a special request. Dylan has a specific way of doing things.”
Just as my loft door closes, the phone picks up.