Kip was also there, though I paid no mind to him.

I couldn’t. Not when Rowan’s eyes found mine.

For the life of me, I couldn’t tell what his expression or posture might’ve been in the seconds before I lifted my head and presented my bruised face to him.

Usually, those eyes were warm, inviting. But seeing them right then, I couldn’t believe that they were capable of being anything but two glittering holes of fury.

The phrase, ‘if looks could kill’ was rather trite and cliché, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Sure, I was still standing, and my heart was still beating, meaning the look he gave me didn’t literally cause me to drop dead, but it would’ve made me take a step back... If I hadn’t been frozen in place.

“Who did this to you?” Rowan’s nostrils flared, his jaw was set in a rigid line.

I blinked at him, unnerved at the pure menace in his tone. I knew this guy could be dangerous—that was communicated by his muscles, his size and the general way he carried himself—but being presented with it were two different things.

My hand went to the spot he was glaring at on reflex. It shook. His eyes widened at my shaking hand, so I quickly yanked it back down to my side.

“No one,” I squeaked. “I just… walked into a cabinet.” It was the truth. Leaving out some important details and one important asshole, but the truth, nonetheless.

A truth that Rowan, apparently, wasn’t buying.

He made this known by rounding the counter in a handful of quick, powerful strides and advancing on me. I was entirely unprepared for him to break the barrier between us and come into my space, therefore, I didn’t have time to escape.

I didn’t have anywhere to escape to anyway since the espresso machine was directly behind me which I hadn’t thought about until my back slammed into it.

Rowan didn’t stop, his hand grasping my upper arm in a firm, purposeful but not painful grip before he began to drag me toward the kitchen.

Or he would’ve had I not let out a little whimper of pain.

You see, the grip itself would not have been painful had I not had bruises on the exact spot he gripped. But I did. Therefore, the whimper I couldn’t control.

The whimper that stopped Rowan dead in his tracks and made him let go of my arm like it had burned him. His eyes zeroed in on the spot that was thankfully covered by cashmere. Delicate cashmere that thankfully could not be dissolved by the fury in his gaze.

I froze, unable to stop staring at him, unable to say anything.

Rowan was quiet for a moment too. It seemed the entire bakery held its breath.

Well, until his palm landed on my lower back—feather light, barely there, yet I could’ve sworn the imprint of it seared into my skin—and gently guided me to the kitchen.