by Shey Stahl
“I’ve always been into baking and cupcakes were my thing. I had a sweet tooth, as did my sisters and this was sorta our way of bonding.”
“Is Stevie your sister?”
“No. Never do business with family.”
“Very true. My dad and I never got along on a jobsite.” Raising his glass, he took a slow drink of his beer and then placed it back on the coaster. “Are you close with your sisters?”
If you didn’t know it, I wouldn’t have pegged Josh as a construction worker. While it was clear he was a boss man with the mannerisms, his rough hands and banged-up knuckles indicated he was a man who wasn’t afraid to work hard, despite his status. So picturing him on a jobsite, barking out orders was easy, as was Josh getting dirty in the midst of hard-work.
“A little.” Stirring the black straw around in my ice tea, I stared at the ice cubes rather than on Josh. “Kinsley lives in Seattle with her husband, and Charley, she lives in Portland.”
“Both older?”
“Yep. How’d you guess?”
“You have that little sister cuteness down.”
Though it happened a lot, I hated being referred to as cute. It was a word I heard a lot. Oh, there’s little Logan. Look how cute she is with her freckles. Growing up, my sisters had the boys. I had baking. Awkwardly so, I couldn’t carry a conversation with a boy to save my life. Yet that was probably why I still couldn’t, and any sex I had, was limited to one-night.
“So how’d a guy like you get into doing construction?” I asked, desperately wanting to draw the conversation away from me, and wondering why we were even making small talk.
“Family business. Dad’s company handed down to me when he wanted to retire.”
Okay, so his parents were loaded. I knew that much from high school though. I was a freshman when Josh was a senior, driving around in a lifted Chevy with mud tires. Times hadn’t changed all that much.
I think Josh could sense I was a tad uncomfortable with the small talk. Anytime someone started asking me questions, I froze up, wondering if they were secretly just thinking, “Shut up. No one cares about your boring life.”
Charley, my oldest sister, claimed I rambled. It was a fear of mine anytime I was around someone other than Stevie.
Stevie rambled enough for the two of us, making me seem normal.
Josh then finished his beer and looked down at his phone. “What’s your email address and I’ll send you over the contract?”
“Logan at cupcake factory dot com.”
After pressing some buttons, his eyes drifted back to mine. “Just sent it. If you want, we’ll get started on Monday.”
“Oh.” I perked up. “That soon?”
“Yeah.” Josh leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. “We have some openings right now so this will work out just fine.”
The rest of the meal we chatted.
Josh listened to everything I said, intently, as if he was interested.
I told myself it was just him showing his newly acquired client he cared and he was nice guy.
Because that was all it was.
Placing his napkin on the table, he finished his beer and then nodded. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes. Sorry to rush this.”
Taking one last sip of my tea, I smiled. “That’s okay. I better get back, too.”
We made the small walk down the street to my shop when Josh clicked the remote to his truck and started it.
“I’ll see you Monday.” I had one hand on the door and waved to him.
He just smiled, as though my remark was funny to him, and left.
The moment I walked through the door, Stevie wanted to know every single detail.
“I hired him,” I told her, trying to rid the smile from my face but doing a bad job at it.
“For sex?” There was a giddiness to her tone.
I shoved her when a mom and daughter came in, both eagerly excited as they browsed our display of cupcakes and cake pops. “I hired him for the remodel. Now help them.”
Stevie rolled her eyes and I knew I wasn’t very convincing that I hadn’t hired him for sex because the thoughts were there before I could stop them.
I USUALLY CLOSED the shop around seven on the weeknights. Early enough that you could come in and get dessert but also, so I still had a night.
Stevie left around five to meet up with some friends from high school at The Office. Pretty much the worst bar in Olympia if you asked me. It smelled awful.
As I was locking up, I heard that familiar diesel truck return and park in front of the shop. I smiled before I could stop myself.
What was it about this guy that was drawing me to him, and what was it about him that was being so persistent with me today?
He probably wanted to get laid. In my experience, men went to some pretty dedicated lengths for pussy.
“Come to dinner with me.” He spoke the words so smoothly, I nearly said yes right away.
Surprisingly, I refrained and gave him the look that said my legs are closed tonight. When really, they weren’t and it was hard to give him that look.
What I really wanted to say was, “Let me ride your face.”
I did not say that. Thankfully.
“You think I’m that type of guy?” he asked, turning my thoughts into words. They sounded better coming from him anyway.
“You are. And I don’t think going to dinner with you is a good idea.”
“It wasn’t a question.” He leaned into the building, his shoulder pressing against the black concrete. Crossing his arms over his chest, my eyes were drawn to his biceps and that tattoo again. I wanted to reach out and let my fingers run over the ink, give them the pleasure of running over skin that pretty. “But I’m curious, what type of guy do you think I am?”
“Smooth talking.” I closed my eyes wanting desperately for him not to see the reaction he was having on me.
I bet he’d never heard no from a girl. I bet he’s only heard ‘Yes, please,’ and ‘Oh, God, more. Please more!’
My eyes snapped back open when the images flooding my brain became too much.
“Well then, yeah.” Josh chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking in the process. “I’m that type. What type are you?”
“I’m the girl who doesn’t fall for smooth talking boys.”
“Ah, well.” He mused with an assured lilt pushing away from the wall, standing before me. “I’m certainly no boy.”
Shifting my stance so one hand was on my hip, I smiled at him. “Appears that way.”
Josh watched me warily, his lips parting as if to draw my attention there. His stare fixed a moment too long for my liking.
“So where are you taking me to dinner then?” I didn’t wait for him to answer; instead, I reached for the handle of his truck door.
Once again, the thought of being with Josh in that way was there before I could stop it. I could sleep with him as a one-night stand, right?
What was the harm in that?
I’d done it many times before.
Well, for one, Logan, you hired him to remodel your shop, I told myself. Never mix business with pleasure.
Unfortunately for me, Josh was the type of guy who when his eyes landed on yours, you wanted to rip his clothes off.
JOSH ENDED UP taking me to the Oyster House for dinner, a small dockside restaurant across from Capital Lake.
Stepping from his truck, the warm salty ocean water filled the air. As I walked around the back, Josh surprised me and placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the door. I breathed in deeply and smiled.
“Have you been here before?”
Josh nodded as we walked along the side of the building to the front. With one hand on the door, he opened it. “Not since they’ve opened back up.”
Two years earlier, a fire nearly destroyed the entire restaurant. Thankfully they were able to repair it.
To the right of the entryway was the bar, usually where I preferred to sit.
Josh stepp
ed forward and reached for my hand directing me into the bar and around the side to a pub table that faced the water and boat in the West Bay Marina.
Neither of us said much, the bartender arriving promptly to take our drink orders. Josh once again ordered a beer while I went with something a little harder. “Whiskey sour.”
Josh raised an eyebrow, amused. “Going for the good stuff?”
I shrugged and reached for the menu. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Why?”
“You,” I admitted with a vibration to my words. I couldn’t place what it was about him, but just the idea of being alone with him had my head buzzing. Which was exactly why I ordered a whiskey sour. “You make me nervous.”
Did he really not understand that by the way my voice shook around words I spoke to him? I didn’t think I would be his type. And now today, he seemed to be making it clear he had the intention in getting his dick wet.
“Don’t be nervous. I’m harmless.”
Sure you are.
I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. He had pretty eyes, a soft blue that reminded me of a summer sky. Wanting to change the conversation away from where it was leading, I went with a safer topic, or so what I thought would be safe. “What does a guy like you do for fun?”
“I have a few friends over on the weekends. That’s about it. What about you?”
“I bake.” It was a tad embarrassing to admit, but I did.
“For fun?” He took a slow drink of his beer and then set it down, leaning to the side in a relaxed manner.
“Yeah.”
“Anything else?” His brow rose, his eyes shining in the low lighting of the bar.
“Nope.”
“So workaholic?”
“I suppose in a sense, I am.”
His eyes moved from mine to the window lining the dock, staring out at the boats in the marina. “I know the feeling.”
We talked mostly about work, his and mine, while we waited for our meal. The sun had set around the time our food arrived. The once cloudless sky of the day now splattered with orange and gray clouds.
As the night progressed and we were finished eating, plus two beers and two whiskey sours later, I wasn’t ready for the night to end, and neither was Josh.
“We could go back to my place and watch a movie.”
It was like he was reading every breath my body was giving from the rise of my chest, to its fall, the beating of my heart and my trembled touch, all indications that I wanted him in ways I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Honestly, I was ready to spread my legs for him.
“Is that code for go back to my place and fuck?” I asked once inside his truck and on the way down Fourth Avenue.
Damn you whiskey sour.
His mouth opened and then he paused, as if deciding what he wanted to say. That was when his expression changed. His face softened when he spoke quietly. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, roughed-up knuckles turning white as he looked out the windshield. “Only if you want it to be. Or we really could just watch a movie.”
“It’s midnight,” I pointed out.
He shrugged, hand on the steering wheel. “I stay up late.”
“Where do you live?”
“On Long Lake.”
“Okay.” Drawing in a deep breath, fully aware of what I was about to do, I said, “Take me back to your place.”
My nerves were all over the place on the drive out to his house. I spent some time on Long Lake when I was younger, but not much. It was where all the rich kids lived.
Raising three girls on her own, my mom barely had enough money to keep us in a three-bedroom apartment. Living on a lake was never in our future.
By the time we made it to his house, the air was still warm and smelled like summer with a hint of humidity. Many out of towners had this assumption it rained non-stop in Washington when in reality, our summers were very enjoyable and beautiful.
Again, as the gentleman he was trying to be, Josh open the door to his truck once in the driveway. He appeared to live in a freaking mansion on the lake. “Jesus, nice house.”
He smiled, glancing at his home and then back to me. “Thanks.” I took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help me out of the lifted Chevy I was sure I’d fall face first from had he not been helping me.
Leading me to the front door with his hand on my lower back, the heat of his touch was exactly what I was hoping for. I was also impressed that he wasn’t afraid to touch me, give me little hints that he wanted my body next to his.
It gave me hope he would be covering mine soon.
Bright lights shined down on his stone patio that led up to the double-door entryway.
“The movie room is upstairs.” A smile tugged at his beautiful full lips.
He reached out to take my hand, the mischievous grin lighting up his features.
Glancing around, there was a tranquil feel to the house, warm colors and rich dark wood. It made taking his hand a little easier, calmed me in a way I hadn’t intended for it to.
“Of course it is.” My voice vacillated, betraying the lack of control I believed I had on myself. “Is that how you get all the girls upstairs?”
His mood changed, appearing offended. “Only the ones who want to go.”
Maybe it was my nerves or the fact that I thought for sure I pissed him off with that remark that I dropped my bag at my feet. I then bent over, right in front of him to pick it up.
You dropped your bag on purpose.
Nope.
Really, I did drop my purse.
And he took advantage of the moment. Or my ass sticking up in the air was too much to handle.
Either way, when I felt his strong hands wrap around my waist, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I melted a little. Just the thought of him touching me had my muscles in my body clenching with anticipation.
Looking over my right shoulder at him, his eyes were low, focused on my ass that was now in his hands. I felt awkward and unsure of what to say to him next.
Twisting my head, I caught sight of the desire in his stare. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?”
Admittedly at that point, I’d rather watch him too.
With his hands placed on my hips, fingertips gripping me with the right amount of pressure to give me a thrill, it reminded me perfectly that I needed this?
When I bent over, I should have known where that would lead.
So I wasn’t all that surprised when I felt his strong hands. The touch was new and sent a jolt through my body. My blood rushed to warm my cheeks at the thought of where this could lead.
Chuckling low and deep, his eyes set on mine as he murmured, “Something tells me you’re more interesting.”
“Is that so?” Facing him completely, our chests touched.
The slightest brush and I wanted more. I wanted to grab him, wrap my legs around his waist and feel the warmth between my legs. I wanted his strong capable hands on my body, bending me in directions I knew he could.
He pushed me forward until I was basically on my knees on the stairs, my hands spread wide a few steps above me. “You’re beautiful, Logan.”
He let out a breath and I felt his erection pressing into the crack of my ass.
Yep, he wants it.
He turned me around and bent at his knees, his hands making contact with the back of my legs.
Yes! Carry me to your bed!
Almost instinctively, anticipating his move, my hands went to his shoulders of steel and around his neck. I wanted to lean in and kiss him.
“Don’t be shy,” he whispered, the tone a growling rasp that pebbled my skin. “If you want to kiss me, do it.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for you to do it.”
His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip and drew my attention there.
Looking at that full lip, I imagined he was a good kisser. I needed to say something, give him the okay to continue, but I couldn’t speak right
then.
Leaning in, he moved until he had my legs wrapped around his waist. He then took another step in the direction of his stairs, carrying me with him.
I didn’t want to stop it either.
Kiss me, damn it.
He wanted to. I could tell by the way his eyes wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t lift from where he so desperately wanted to taste.
The want was evident when his eyes darted to my lips and then my eyes as he carried me upstairs, slowly, our eye contact never breaking.
It seemed, or maybe I thought it was, he was waiting for me to tell him no.
I wasn’t going to.
When we reached the top of the staircase, he went left down a long cream-colored hallway and then made another left through double doors.
Josh’s steady hands were at my waist, guiding me inside his room. They were exactly where I wanted them.
As we stumbled around, clothes frantically removed when my bare feet hitting the softest tan-colored carpet imaginable. The backs of my knees found the edge of his bed, and I fell back into a sea of gray and black pillows.
“I need you to do it,” he whispered against my skin as he covered my body with his, his hand raising to my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my bottom lip.
With his penetrating stare on my mouth, my tongue darted out, gliding slowly around his thumb as he angled his head. The way his eyes focused on my tongue, he was wishing his mouth, or his cock was getting that attention.
Just kiss me, damn it!
His eyes drifted closed, momentarily, as if that was too much. Watching his broad shoulders as he dipped down, our chests pressed to one another.
“I think you know I want you.” The eagerness in his voice surprised me. “I can’t hide that.”
He was absolutely right; he couldn’t.
I wanted to grind into him, but I resisted, waiting to see if he was going to kiss me. And then I cracked and grinded into him anyway. My wet center came in contact with his rock hard erection.
We both gasped, me more so.
“Kiss me,” he repeated in a whisper, practically begging this time.
Never would I have thought a guy like Josh Daniel would have me on his bed, begging me to kiss him. He was popular in high school, the fantasy of nearly every girl he made eye contact with and now, there I was, the shy woman, on his bed, with him between my legs, begging me to kiss him.
