Puffy & Precious

by Mary E Thompson

  It was like he’d read my mind.

  I floated into the kitchen and got to work on my baked goods for the morning. It wasn’t long before I realized I couldn’t possibly bake Graham enough to make up for what he’d done for me. I needed to do something else for him. By the time I opened, I had a plan. It wouldn’t make up for what he’d built, but maybe it would be a start. Until I could pay him back.

  When he finally came in it took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms and thank him. I eyed the couple sitting in the chairs, each reading a book from the shelf, then met his eyes. He looked sheepish.

  “Are you mad?”

  I shook my head, softening. “It’s beautiful. I thought we agreed-”

  “You agreed, Abby. I never said I wouldn’t build it. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It looks like it’s getting use already.”

  “Graham, I can’t pay you for it. Not yet-”

  He held up his hand to stop me. “Abby, it’s okay. I wanted to do it, and I already told you-”

  “I know, Graham,” I interrupted. “But I want to do something. I really can’t pay you, but maybe I could cook you dinner this weekend?”

  I chewed my lip, wondering what he was thinking. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me, making me more and more self-conscious. He probably would have preferred the money.

  “It’s not much, I know, but I really don’t have the money right now-”

  He stopped me from blabbering with a hand on mine. I froze at the touch of his rough palm against the back of my hand. Brett’s hands had always been smooth. The scratch of Graham’s hand sent shivers through my body that settled between my thighs. The sudden, raw need shocked the hell out of me. I’d never wanted a man the way I wanted Graham at that moment. It made me want to pull back from him, but I couldn’t. Not when his green eyes brightened and implored me to let him speak.

  “Dinner sounds great, Abby. It’s not necessary, but I’d love it.”

  The last bit of tension inside me melted away and was replaced by desire. It made me dizzy. I had to pull myself together or I’d never survive a dinner with him. And I was definitely having dinner with him.

  “Do you, um… How’s Saturday night?”

  He smiled, a grin so big I could count almost all his perfectly straight teeth gleaming white against his dark skin. I had no choice but to smile back at him, especially when he said, “Perfect.”

  I knew Brett was going to push me when I was there Thursday. Instead of giving me a few hours at SkinnyCakes, he kept me there all day. He tried to be nice about it, but there wasn’t anything nice left in Brett. Knowing I had my tasting, and a date with Graham, made it impossible for him to get to me. I poured through the resumes he’d collected and found candidates for his assistant and set up interviews for seven of them the following Wednesday knowing I’d be there.

  I really despised working for him but promised myself it was short lived. After the picnic was over I could walk away from Brett, again, and know I wasn’t missing anything because of it. With any luck, I’d find him a new assistant by then and have even less time with him.

  Since I missed a chance to test out my new recipes for Mayor Ramsey at SkinnyCakes, I was up most of the night crafting pears wrapped in puff pastry, butterscotch crème brûlée, red velvet mini cakes, caramel apple tartlets, mini cannolis, and a rhubarb pie. The tension of my day, and the memory of Brett’s insistence that I join him for dinner Sunday night, slipped away as I baked late into the night. When I packed up my treats for Mayor Ramsey to try Friday morning, I knew the late night had been worth it, even if I was exhausted.

  Olivia greeted me warmly and asked if she could see what I’d brought.

  “Of course,” I said, opening the box to show her. “I wasn’t sure how many people were going to be in on the decision.”

  Olivia shook her head. “Just Wyatt. He figured if the whole thing was his idea he needed to own every decision. That and pulling a committee together this late was a bit of a challenge.”

  “That makes sense. Do you want to try anything?”

  Olivia clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Definitely. Everything looks amazing. I should probably let Wyatt grab what he wants first though.”

  I nodded. “Sure, makes sense. I just hope he likes all this.”

  “I’m sure he will. Don’t worry though. The first two tastings didn’t go that well. Wyatt wasn’t happy yesterday when the second one left. I know he really liked the samples you brought to the first meeting. Today should be a breeze for you.”

  “I hope so.”

  Olivia picked up her phone when it rang. “Yes? Okay.” She hung up then said to me, “He’s ready for you. Good luck.”

  Olivia’s grin bolstered my confidence before I stepped into Wyatt’s office. He greeted me warmly before gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “What do you have for me today?”

  I opened the box and set it on his desk. “I wanted to bring a variety of items to give you an idea of what I had in mind. I would be happy to take suggestions if you have them too.”

  He regarded me closely for a minute before nodding. “That gives me a vote of confidence. Thank you. Will you tell me about what you’ve made?”

  “Of course. First, is a mini cannoli. Traditional ricotta filling with chocolate dipped shells and shaved coconut topping.”

  I waited as he lifted the small tube from the box and bit into the end of it. The shell cracked with his bite and crumbled into his hand. He caught the rest before slurping it from his palm with a satisfied grin.

  “Delicious. I’m a sucker for cannoli. I need some water. Give me just a minute. Do you want something?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you though.”

  He gulped his water then went back for the another dessert. “What’s next?”

  “Caramel apple tartlet.”

  Wyatt ate that one, then the butterscotch crème brûlée, the rhubarb pie, a puffed pastry wrapped pear, and ended with the red velvet mini-cake.

  “These are delicious,” he said as he finished his water. “Really, very good. You’re very creative and talented. I’ve enjoyed every item you presented me with today.” He paused. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Bentley, I enjoyed this thoroughly. There’s a large part of me that wants to give you the job right now. I’m worried though. As amazing as the desserts are, I’m afraid they won’t be overly family friendly. We’re hoping there will be a lot of kids and as much as I enjoyed everything you presented here, I think there will be a lot of parents trying to force their kids to eat these desserts.”

  I fought the tears that stung my eyes. He enjoyed everything, so I had no right to be upset, but he didn’t want to hire me because my desserts were too high end. They didn’t have enough mass appeal.

  “I understand. Thank you for your input, Mr. Mayor. I want to assure you I will make some improvements. Would you prefer all desserts that are kid friendly or a blend?”

  “Definitely a blend. I’d love every single one of these, but I know how kids are. They eat with their eyes and if it doesn’t look like something they know they won’t even try it.”

  I nodded. “I understand. In my shop I have a lot of items that would work well, but I wanted to try a few different things than my everyday offerings.”

  “What you brought last time was great. A few of those and a few of these and you’d be all set in my mind.”

  He was right. I knew he was right. I also knew being open to his suggestions made him more likely to hire me. He was grinning and I knew I’d get the job, even though he didn’t say it.

  Chapter 9

  I spent all Saturday afternoon stressing about every little thing. Baking for Mayor Ramsey put me on edge. Cooking for Graham wound me up tighter than a bow.

  When I got up, I cleaned Max’s apartment from top to bottom. I put everything away and made sure the place was as close to perfect as it could get. It wasn’t big, but the bed was made, the couch was sprayed w
ith air freshener, and the carpet was vacuumed. Hell, I even cleaned the oven.

  Just after lunch time I mixed angus ground beef, bread crumbs, eggs, onions, and spices together and formed my meatballs. I wanted to cook them right before Graham got there so I let them sit in the fridge until I was ready. Then I baked a banana cake, a half dozen hoagie rolls, and sliced the potatoes into ultra-thin pieces.

  With the food prepared, I searched my closet for something that said sexy but not begging for it. I had no idea what I wanted from Graham, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t just a friendship. Maybe Tara was right. Maybe I should just sleep with him.

  “No,” I said aloud with a shake of my head. I wasn’t that kind of person. I kind of wished I was, but I just wasn’t. If I slept with a guy it was because I liked him. A lot. Not because I had nothing else to do.

  I finally chose my favorite pair of dark jeans and a light purple top that cupped my breasts but flowed easily over my belly. I added a pair of silver teardrop earrings and a diamond solitaire pendant necklace that used to be my Grams’. I’d worn it on my wedding day and was ready for some good memories with the necklace on.

  There was a knock on the door on my way back to the kitchen. Either he was early or I was running late. Regardless, dinner wasn’t anywhere near ready.

  I opened the door and my tongue almost fell out of my mouth. Graham took up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders and immense height. The man was simply huge. He smiled at me, the lightness of his teeth breaking up the darkness of him in his gray t-shirt and dark jeans. Both molded to his body like they were made just for him.

  I stepped back to let him in, my tongue still trying to figure out how to form words instead of flop around in my mouth. He ducked his head to come inside and bent down and kissed my cheek, making me swoon. “You look beautiful, Abby,” he whispered against my ear, sending tremors through me.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, his fresh, manly scent overwhelming the banana cake smell that had filled the apartment all afternoon.

  “Did you bake banana cake?” he asked with another smile as he pulled back.

  I nodded. “I know you like it.”

  His eyes locked on mine. “I do.”

  I grinned, unable to stop myself. “I made dinner, too. Well, I will make dinner. I’m running behind I guess.”

  Graham followed me into the kitchen. “No, I’m a little early. I thought I could help you.”

  I shook my head. “That’s why I’m cooking for you. Because you’ve already helped too much.”

  “Not even close, Abby. I enjoyed it.”

  “Well, tonight you’re going to sit and relax and let me do the work. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” I had a moment of panic before he shook his head. I sighed. “Good. Are meatball subs okay with you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m also making chips and we have banana cake, too. Can I get you a drink? I wasn’t sure what you liked so I have beer, wine, pop, water?”

  “I like all of it, but a beer sounds great. Thanks.”

  Instead of sitting at the small dining table, Graham stood in the kitchen with me. I pulled out the pan with the meatballs and got them in the oven. I started the oil on the stovetop and waited for it to heat up.

  “I’ve never had homemade chips before,” he commented.

  “It’s not something I do often, but they’re pretty good. I don’t eat a lot of chips.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “My ex didn’t like them. Plus, I need to lose weight.”

  “Who said you need to lose weight?”

  I shrugged again, not wanting to get into it with him.

  “Who, Abby? Your ex?”

  I shrugged yet again, failing to find words.

  “He’s an idiot. We’ve been through this. He had no idea what he was missing. I hope you don’t think all men are like him. You don’t need to lose weight, Abby.”

  “Thank you,” was all I could muster.

  Graham stood beside me as I fried the potato slices into chips. When they were perfectly brown I scooped them from the oil and laid them out on paper towels then sprinkled salt over top.

  “How did you learn to cook?” Graham asked.

  “My Grams mostly. When my dad died we moved in with her. Mom worked a lot and Grams was always home with us. She taught me to cook and to bake.”

  “Are you still close?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, we are. When I left Brett I thought about moving back in with Mom and Grams, but both of them told me not to marry him in the first place. They thought I was too young. Our relationship has been a little strained. Neither of them ever said ‘I told you so’ but I feel it.”

  “Family is tough. You clearly didn’t need to live with them though. You’ve got a nice place.”

  I chuckled. “It’s my brother’s apartment. He let me move in even though it was tough. When he married Charlie he moved out.”

  Graham nodded thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize Max was gay. He never mentioned it when we were working together.”

  I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about then burst out laughing when it dawned on me. Graham stared at me like I was losing it. I finally calmed down enough to speak. “Charlie is short for Charlotte. Max isn’t gay. It wouldn’t matter to me if he was, but he’s not.”

  Graham laughed at himself. “Sorry. The name threw me off. My brother is gay.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “He never felt like he fit in where we grew up so he moved to New York. He’s a great guy.”

  “Have you stayed in touch with him?”

  Graham nodded before I turned to check the meatballs. He didn’t say anything for a long minute and when I looked back I found him staring at my ass. “Hey!” I shouted, snapping his eyes to mine. With a smirk I said, “I asked you a question.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “You also distracted me. What were we talking about? Oh, my brother. Yeah, we’re in touch. I don’t see him as much as I’d like to. He’s a costume designer.” Graham chuckled. “Growing up he was always fixing our clothes. When he got into high school he started ripping his clothes on purpose so he could sew different pieces together and create his own designs.”

  “He sounds like a very creative person.”

  “He is. Most creative person I know. He definitely got all the crafty genes in the family.”

  I smiled. “I’m not so sure about that. The bookshelf you made was pretty spectacular.”

  “I was inspired, I guess.”

  “By what?”

  He smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “By you, Abby.”

  When he leaned down to kiss me, I froze. I wanted his kiss. More than anything, I wanted it. But I hadn’t kissed another man since I left Brett. Brett always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough when it came to anything sexual. Said I didn’t have any inherent sexiness that turned a man on. It was his excuse for watching porn before we slept together. He needed something to get him in the mood.

  I didn’t want Graham to feel the same way. I didn’t want him to dismiss me because I wasn’t sexy enough.

  But I had no idea how to change who I was.

  “Are you okay with me kissing you?” Graham whispered when he was just a breath away. “Because if you aren’t, I’ll stop.”

  I shook my head and he started to pull away, disappointment masking his face. “No,” I protested, grabbing onto his arms and getting distracted by the pure power I felt. “I meant yes, I’m okay with you kissing me. Don’t stop. I just hope I’m a good enough kisser.”

  “I’ll let you know,” he rasped as he pulled me into his arms and sealed our lips together.

  My body peaked instantly. His lips brushed over mine for a soft kiss. Like everything else on him, his lips were big. Easily covering mine. He went back in for another kiss, not rushing it, just enjoying.

  It didn’t take long for me to relax and enjoy it. Sex was fun, but I was a sucker for a good ma
ke-out session. Brett never liked to kiss much. Graham though… he was proving to be one hell of a kisser.

  When I relaxed, his body tightened around me. His arms pulled me closer, but his hands stayed on my back without drifting to any other parts of my body. His tongue dipped between my lips and stroked mine. I moaned softly into his mouth, getting lost in the feel of his hard body against my soft one and his soft tongue in my mouth. He was driving me crazy.

  Graham tilted his head and deepened our kiss, his tongue growing bolder. One of his hands slid up my back into my hair. He held my head where he wanted it and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. Until I didn’t want to breathe unless it was through Graham. I held on to him, pressing my greedy body against him, wanting more, needing more, and not caring how I got it.

  Graham gentled our kiss and pulled back, sucking in life-saving breaths with me. His lips danced over my neck, sucking gently on my skin before he nipped at my ear. “I want you, Abby. But I’m not going to have you with his ghost hanging around. If I were a weaker man we’d be in your bed right now and I’d be proving exactly how fucking amazing your kiss was, but I can’t do that to you. I’ll have you when he doesn’t.”

  As much as his whispered confession rumbled along my spine and sent quivers between my thighs, his words pissed me off. I was divorced. Brett no longer had any hold over me. I pulled back.

  “Brett and I are over. We have been since the day I walked in and saw him balls deep in his assistant.”

  Graham stepped back. “I know you don’t want him, Abby, but he’s in your mind. You’re worried about what I’ll think because of what he said. He’s there,” he tapped the side of my head then gestured to the space I’d created between us. “He’s here, too. Keeping us apart.”

  “I think you’re the one keeping us apart,” I spat, pulling the meatballs from the oven. I put four onto each roll, covered them with sauce, and laid sliced provolone cheese on top. I finished each sub with a good shake of oregano and stuffed the whole thing back in the oven.