Come Away With Me

by Kristen Proby

Tess laughs with me as she frosts the lemon cupcakes with lemon frosting.

  “How was your night?” she asks.

  “Fine. I just went to the gym.”

  “Oh.” She sighs and looks at me like I’m an old maid.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I just wish you’d go out and have fun,” she replies and arranges the lemon cupcakes on a long plastic tray, ready for the glass case.

  “I do go out and have fun,” I reply.

  “Going to kitchen auctions is not having fun,” she responds sarcastically.

  I send her the stink eye, and she visibly shrinks before holding her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sure the kitchen auctions are totally fun and full of really hot guys.”

  “You’re a smart-ass.” I laugh and put the finishing touches on two dozen It’s A Girl treats for my client.

  “You love me,” she replies and kisses my cheek before she bounces out to arrange the glass case out front.

  “Okay,” I announce when she returns, “these special orders just need to be boxed up. Do you mind doing that while I run upstairs and shower? I’ll finish up with the daily special when I come back down.”

  “No problem. Take your time. We’re ahead of schedule, boss lady.”

  I shake my head and chuckle as I climb the stairs to my apartment, shedding clothing on the way.

  Tess is young, only in her early twenties and still in college, but she’s a hard worker. She loves the shop, and I enjoy having her around. There’s never a dull moment when she’s working.

  It doesn’t take me long to shower and dress in my uniform of black slacks and red T-shirt with a white apron, tie the red ribbon in my hair like a headband and brush on a bit of makeup.

  When I return to the kitchen, we still have forty-five minutes until we open, so we spend that time frosting the daily special—white chocolate mocha—and preparing batter for the next morning.

  At nine a.m., Tess unlocks the door and immediately a small crowd of guests pours in to order a treat and coffee.

  When the crowd finally dies down at about twelve thirty, I have a moment to slip in the back and quickly eat a banana and string cheese before consolidating the cupcakes in the glass case and tidying up the seating area.

  The bell over the door rings behind me as I’m tucking chairs under a table.

  “It smells amazing in here.”

  I’d know that voice anywhere.

  It was in my head all night long.

  I turn to find Matt and a slightly shorter, dark-haired man I’ve never seen before standing just inside the door. Matt has his hands in the pockets of his jeans and is smiling at me. The man with him has already crossed to the case, practically drooling over the cakes inside.

  “Hi,” I murmur, smoothing my hands down my apron.

  “How’s business today?” Matt asks as I walk behind the case, putting a good three feet between us.

  “It’s been busy. It just started to slow down.”

  “Montgomery has lost his manners,” Matt’s friend informs me with a smile. “I’m his partner, Asher.”

  “Hi, I’m Nic Dalton.”

  “I’ve driven by this place a hundred times and have always meant to come in.” Asher grins as he peruses the case. “What do you recommend?”

  “The chocolate,” I reply, my gaze still stuck on Matt.

  He’s remained quiet, hanging back, watching my every move.

  It’s unnerving and yet comforting in a way I can’t explain.

  He’s in a dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled, and it suddenly occurs to me that he’s wearing a holster at his waist with a handgun and a badge clipped to it.

  Glancing at Asher, I see he’s wearing the same.

  I raise an eyebrow at Matt. “I don’t sell doughnuts here.”

  His lips twitch. I had no idea he’s a cop!

  “Maybe we need a change of pace,” Matt replies. “Besides, I told you I’d be in today.”

  I nod and smile at Asher. “You sick of doughnuts, too?”

  “I never get sick of doughnuts. But I’ll take that chocolate cupcake right there.”

  I place his treat on a plate and hand it to him. He peels the paper off and takes a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  “Marry me,” he announces and stuffs the rest in his mouth. “Marry me right now. We’ll go to Vegas.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “What can I get you, Matt?”

  “Dinner tomorrow night,” he replies smoothly.

  “Dude, you’re good,” Asher compliments him. “But she’s marrying me.”

  “Who’s marrying who?” Tess asks as she returns from the kitchen then stops in her tracks. Her eyes widen as she takes in the two very attractive—okay, gorgeous—men chatting with me.

  “Nic is going to marry me,” Asher announces with a wink.

  “Or, I can just keep baking cupcakes and you’re welcome to stop in from time to time. That way, there are no messy contracts or things like commitment,” I suggest with a laugh.

  “Yes, that’ll work,” Asher agrees.

  “Tess, could you please box up a couple of the chocolate for Asher to go?” I ask her and then turn to Matt. “What would you like?”

  “I told you. Dinner tomorrow night.”

  My heart skips a beat then shifts into overdrive.

  “I meant…”

  “I know what you meant. I’ll take a dozen of the special and dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, she’ll go,” Tess answers for me.

  “You, I can fire, you know.”

  She waves me off like I just announced that she has something in her teeth.

  Matt laughs as he accepts the cupcakes from me. “Can I talk to you somewhere more private?”

  The shop is still empty, so I nod and lead him back into the kitchen.

  “You didn’t have to buy a whole dozen just to ask me to dinner,” I inform him softly.

  “I bought them for the guys at the precinct.” He shrugs and grins at me. Is this really the same man who had me tied up in knots—literally and figuratively—not long ago?

  “So, you’re a cop.”

  “I am.” He nods.

  “So, if I need to file a stalking complaint, you’re the person to call?”

  Matt takes a step to me and drags his index finger down my cheek to my jawline. “There’s a number you can call for that, but I hope I’m not the one you’re thinking of turning in.”

  I smirk and watch him, waiting for him to dictate to me what we’ll do next or where we’ll go to dinner, but he just waits for me, watching me just as I am him.

  “I’ll go to dinner with you tomorrow,” I finally murmur. My stomach clenches and nipples tighten when he offers me that megawatt smile and leans in to plant his lips on my forehead.

  “Excellent. What time will you be finished here?”

  “Four in the afternoon.”

  “Pick you up at six?”

  He’s asking, not telling!

  “Sure.”

  He cups my face in his hands and sighs as he looks in my eyes. “We will need to talk, little one.”

  “That is usually a part of going to dinner with someone,” I reply with an innocent smile.

  He laughs and plants a chaste kiss on my lips then turns to leave. “See you tomorrow.” He winks, and then he’s gone.

  I lean on the countertop, trying to catch my breath. Good God, he barely touched me and I was ready to tear my clothes off and attack him right here in the kitchen.

  That’s so not gonna happen.

  I busy myself by wiping down the already clean countertops, trying to clear my head before I can face Tess or any potential customers.

  One thing I can say about Matt is, he always leaves me off balance, not necessarily in a bad way.

  Would it hurt so much to go out to dinner with him? To get to know him better? I lean my hips against the countertop and scrub my hands over my face.
<
br />   “Did you forget to eat again? Are you okay?”

  I whirl at the sound of Bailey’s voice to find her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and her pretty face pulled into a frown.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you closing soon?”

  I check the time, surprised to see it’s already almost one, which is my closing time on Sunday.

  “Yes, in just a few minutes.”

  “Good, we’re going out for appetizers and wine,” she informs me.

  “Nic has a date!” Tess shouts excitedly as she bursts into the kitchen. “With a hot cop!”

  “Really?” Bailey asks and watches me speculatively. “We are definitely going out for wine.”

  “I wish I could go, but I just got a call from Sean.” Tess grins as she grabs her purse and shucks her apron. “I already closed up, boss, so you’re good to go.”

  “That was quick,” I reply.

  “It was dead out there, so I closed up while the other cop—Asher—chatted with me. He placed an order for a dozen strawberry shortcake cupcakes for Saturday. It’s his daughter’s birthday.”

  “That’s sweet,” I respond as I close up the kitchen for the night.

  Tess waves and takes off, leaving Bailey and I.

  “Talk,” she commands.

  “I need wine first.” I sigh as I grab my wallet.

  I lock the door behind us, and we walk down the block to Vintage.

  “Your usuals?” our waiter, Dan, asks after he seats us.

  “Yes, please,” Bailey responds and then giggles after the handsome college student leaves to fill our order. “I think we come here too often.”

  “No, it’s just right,” I disagree. “We’d have to train someone else if we went to a different place. Besides, they have happy hour all day on Sunday, and that’s hard to find, too.”

  “Good point.” She nods.

  “One glass of pinot noir and one glass of merlot and a basket of fresh bread.” Dan winks at me then rubs his hands together. “What would you like to eat?”

  “We’ll take the spinach dip with chips and calamari,” Bailey responds.

  “Oh, and the cheese and cracker platter, too, please,” I add enthusiastically. I’m starved, and that’s not a good thing.

  “You got it, ladies.”

  We both watch Dan’s firm, young ass as he walks away and then sigh as we take sips of our wine.

  “So, who’s the cop you’re going out with, and why am I just now hearing about it?” Bailey asks.

  I feel my cheeks heat as I swirl the wine in my glass. Bailey is the only person I told about my night with the handsome man. “I ran into Matt yesterday at the wedding I did the cake for.”

  “Matt, as in the guy who tied you up and rocked your world, Matt?”

  “The same,” I reply with a nod.

  “Small world.”

  I snort. “Right.”

  “He seems nice.”

  “He’s kinky,” I respond without thinking, then bite my lip and shake my head.

  “He’s into bondage, so what?”

  “Do you know him?” I ask, hoping she says yes so I can drill her for information.

  “Not really. I’ve seen him around before, but I’ve never spoken to him.” Bailey cocks her head, takes a sip of her wine and watches me closely. “What’s your hang-up?”

  “I’m not submissive, Bailey.”

  “Okay.”

  “Trust me when I say, he’s pretty dominant in the bedroom.”

  “Okay.”

  I growl and glare at my best friend. “Stop saying okay.”

  “Look, you’re overthinking this, Nic.” She squirms a bit across from me, getting comfortable. “You two had a good time together. Did he scare you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he hurt you?” She’s watching me very carefully, reading my body as well as my words.

  “No,” I reply immediately.

  “Then what makes you hesitate to see him again?” she asks, confused.

  “Well, at first I thought he was married with kids,” I remind her and glare when she bursts out laughing. “But I found out yesterday that it was a family emergency, and he’s single.”

  “Dramatic much?” she asks, still laughing. “I told you it probably wasn’t that.”

  “Look, he lives a lifestyle that I know nothing about, and I can’t lose control of my life, Bailey. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Who says he wants to control your life?” Bailey asks, her expression clearly confused.

  “Please, he’s a Dominant, right?”

  She grows quiet, frowns and fidgets with her glass for a moment before pinning me in her gaze. She looks…hurt.

  “I never figured you as a snob, Nic.”

  “What?!”

  “Every person is different, no matter their circumstances. You’re a baker, but I bet another baker doesn’t make cupcakes the exact same way you do. Matt likes bondage and, yes, he’s dominant in the bedroom, but you haven’t even given him a chance to talk to you. He may not be looking for a full-time sub. Maybe he just wants to tie you up and boss you around in the bedroom. He’s obviously into you.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m still stuck on “snob.”

  “He didn’t hurt you, and he had a valid reason for leaving that night. Give him a chance. See where it leads. Maybe it won’t be for you, but you won’t know until you try.”

  “How can you be a part of this community and not be a little afraid of it?” I ask honestly. “I know you. You’re not weird or some kind of whack job.”

  “Um, thanks. I think.” She wrinkles her nose and then giggles. “Most people who enjoy sex on the kinky side aren’t whack jobs. We’re just a little different. I’m not sure where I fit in yet. I’m not submissive. There isn’t one particular fetish that I enjoy more than others. I guess I’m still figuring it out.”

  “Since when are you so smart?” I ask.

  “I just don’t want you to throw away something that could be good just because you have preconceived notions about a lifestyle you know nothing about. This isn’t fiction, Nic. He’s just a guy. If it turns out that you don’t like it, you can end it and move on.”

  “I did like it,” I admit softly. “And maybe that scared me.”

  “Did he check in with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When he was with you, while you were tied and whatever else he had you doing. Did he check to make sure you were okay?”

  I think back to that night in my apartment, to the way he asked me if he was hurting me.

  “Yes.”

  She nods and smiles at me. “I’m excited for you.”

  “It’s just dinner tomorrow night,” I remind her.

  “But you’re gonna give it a chance, right?”

  I drain my wine glass and watch my best friend for a moment and feel the excitement spread from my belly, out my arms and into my throat.

  And it has nothing to do with the wine.

  “Yeah, I definitely am.”

  “Attagirl!”

  ***

  Why did I agree to go out to dinner with him?

  Do friends go out to dinner? Well, girlfriends do, and I guess I’ve been out to dinner with Ben once or twice when I was back home visiting.

  Even though he’s my ex-boyfriend, he’s just a friend now.

  And I’m overthinking this.

  I’m in black capris and a white top with the shoulders cut out, showing off the ink on my right shoulder.

  The doorbell rings just as I finish primping my short dark hair. I slide my feet into black sandals, grab my handbag and open the door to the finest specimen of man I’ve ever seen. He’s in faded denim and a blue T-shirt that molds to his torso, defining every ab, making me want to pull him inside this apartment and say screw it to dinner.

  “Hey.” He grins.

  “Hi yourself.” He steps back, allowing me to pull the door closed and lock the dea
dbolt.

  “You look great.” He motions for me to lead him down the stairs to the sidewalk below.

  “Likewise,” I reply and then giggle. “Seriously, it should be illegal to look like that in a T-shirt.”

  He cringes and then laughs. “I’ll have to look that law up.”

  “Do that,” I reply. “So, where are we going?”

  “There’s a great place over by the Seattle Center. It’s not far, and it’s gorgeous tonight. Let’s walk.”

  “Sounds good.” I fall into step beside him as we head down the dozen or so city blocks to the Seattle Center, where the Experience Music Project, Space Needle and KeyArena all are. It’s always a bustling place, lots to see.

  “How did you find your building?” he asks as we wait for a stoplight to change.

  “It took months,” I inform him. “I think my Realtor was ready to throw me into the sound by the time we found it. But I was picky.” I shrug and then shiver when he rests his hand on the small of my back, leading me across the busy intersection. “I knew when I saw it that I wanted it.”

  “It’s an awesome location.”

  “It really is. Plus, Leo Nash comes in on a regular basis. That’s one piece of eye candy that never gets old.”

  Matt laughs next to me and steps around the opposite side of a tree, dividing us.

  “Bread and butter,” I mumble.

  “What?” he asks with a smile.

  “When you’re with someone, and you both walk around the opposite side of something, you’re supposed to say ‘bread and butter’ so you don’t have bad luck.” I giggle and glance up at him. “At least, that’s what my great-grandmother used to tell me. But she was very superstitious.”

  “I’ll have to remember that,” he replies with a grin. “So, back to Leo, did you meet him at the wedding?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I saw him there. I don’t usually talk to the guests. Actually, I don’t do many weddings.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re stressful and most brides are certifiable.”

  Matt leads me past the EMP, and we stop to watch a juggler for a few moments.

  “I prefer to be in my shop.”

  “Do other musicians come in?”

  “Sure. I’ve had Adam Levine in. I thought Tess was going to pee herself.” I laugh at the memory. “Bruno Mars, Eddie Vedder, Blake Shelton…they’ve all been in.”