Concede (The Diamond Empire Book 1) by Kathy Coopmans (bts book recommendations .TXT) 📕

out from under me. She has way too much money in the checking account, plus an emergency stash. More money than I know what to do with, and now I have more.

More to honor my sister’s name by adding on the coffee area she’d talked about. Danika wanted to hire a couple of women from Roan’s shelter to work as a barista. She had it all planned out. Not to mention the fact the only overhead bills the business has is payroll, supplies, and utilities.

My heart stops beating. Or maybe it’s pounding out of my chest from the dizziness in my brain as I try convincing myself that this is real.

There’s only one person who would do this for me. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or kick his ass.

Seth.

He’s been slowly chipping away at the last chunks of ice around my heart, and he just took a scraper, turned them into slush. Catching me off guard once again.

The man is fire, and I’m the kindling burning for him.

Incinerated.

Normally, I’d be angry at him for going behind my back and doing something like this. Surprisingly, I’m not.

And I know why.

I’m falling in love for the first time in my life. With the attention, Seth has shown me and the emotional warmth these past couple of days. I can clearly see the way he cares for me now that I’ve opened my heart. The way he listens to the ramblings that pour out of me.

He’s overwhelming me with affection, slipping into my soul. I’m confident our connection is the greatest thing I’ve ever felt.

And God, when he fucks me, every ounce of breath seeps out of my lungs and floats into the air like smoke. Promising the most sensual kind of sin and delivering in ways unlike anything I’ve ever known—demanding to take what he gives and giving it in return.

Not that all there is between us was sex. Seth listens to every word I say. He’s always touching me, kissing my knuckles, holding me when I sleep. I could go on and on.

It came on hard and fast and carved itself deeply in my heart. Seth’s untied all my knots except one. I can’t bear to lose him now. I won’t survive if I do.

My brain is scrambling around with different ways to end it, to run when really, I want everything the man has to offer even with the possibility death could take him from me at any given time.

Time, I think as I toss the paper onto the desk and break out in a smile.

I’ve thrown years of my life away, thinking the right man would never come along when he’s been within reach all along. I’m not wasting any more time. I’ve stood still and watched it as it flew across the empty horizon. It hurts so damn bad that we had so much time and wasted it.

What have you done to me, Seth Mitchell?

You’ve changed me quite quickly that my head is spinning so fast I want to slam my hands over my ears to quiet the warnings. Leaning my head back, I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the importance, the value, the signifying meaning of the necklace around my neck as waves of nostalgia assault me.

The fond memory happened here at Buttercup Bakery. It was the day Mom told me how it became hers. The story behind it is one of the kindest things my father ever did for her. He did it behind her back just like Seth, I’m confident, did to me.

Mom’s aunt and uncle owned this place before her, and Dad paid them a dollar for it. From what Mom told me, they wanted to keep it in the family more than making a profit. They knew she loved it. Before her breakdown, she’d worked here for years.

The other is when Mom taught me how to make her famous rainbow cookies and the chocolate hazelnut frosting she’d drizzle and placed on top.

I must have been four or five at the time. The aroma as we walked through the door, made my stomach growl.

Cinnamon, almond, honey, yeast, and frying fat. Those smells did me in every time. I always ran straight to the display case for a rainbow cookie. They were, and still are, my favorite.

But not that day. That day I was going to learn how to make them myself. I couldn’t have been more excited.

I was entranced even that young by the way she worked. I watched in awe and amazement to remember so I’d copy everything she did.

Her tongue always sticking out at the corner in concentration, adjusting the bright lights at just the right angle, and how she eyeballed everything to make it even except when she cut the cookies.

How she gently took hold of my hand when teaching me to mix different food coloring, a dab at a time, until the color I wanted was just right. Her hands steady, eyes focused on her task.

Back then, she made them in red, yellow, and green with chocolate frosting on top. These days they are made in every color under the rainbow. During the holiday season, people are lined up around the building’s corner just to buy them.

When we finished, we laughed at the mess. Flour and sugar all over the place, frosting in our hair. Fingers stained. Laughter soaking into the walls. And love, so much love, and I know it might be silly, but when Dad came to pick us up and planted kisses all over my face while telling me they were the prettiest cookies he’d ever seen, I felt the love he had for me pouring out of him.

He told me I had talent like Mom.

Tears burn the back of my eyes. I swear since the floodgates opened, all I do is cry. But Mom was right. I feel better afterward. It doesn’t stop me from missing her, though. I’ll miss her every day for the rest of my life.

Keeping the tears at bay, I