Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  I step inside the bakery and flip on the lights.

  My eyes latch onto the Christmas Wishing Tree like two magnets snapping together.

  Heat burns my chest when I recall Mave edging me up against the tree.

  Horror chases the feeling when I remember closing my eyes and tilting my chin up to accept whatever he would grace me with.

  Idiot.

  I’ve been doing a great job keeping him at arm’s length. It’s been extremely difficult to resist his charms. Whenever he turns that mega-watt smile on me, my knees threaten to buckle and my stomach sloshes like a melting puddle.

  I’m not blind. The man is hotter than the sun and twice as lethal.

  He likes messing with me, and I’ve coached myself to believe that it doesn’t mean anything.

  But when he stepped close yesterday—

  When those eyes softened from bitter coffee to warm expresso—

  When his chest brushed ever so lightly against mine—

  All the reasons I hated him took a backseat and my body decided to hijack the wheel. I couldn’t stop myself from holding my breath and waiting for a kiss that never came.

  Wincing hard, I scurry past the Christmas Tree and set my purse and coat on the shelf in the kitchen.

  Whatever.

  It’s a new day.

  Even if Mave does corner me again, I won’t be caught up in him. Simpering over his good looks and dashing charisma is a useless waste of time. Mave knows he looks scrumptious and there are tons of women who’d gladly throw themselves at him.

  I have a pastry license to earn, a bakery to open and a sister who’s not talking to me.

  Just thinking about Maxine’s silent treatment makes me want to groan. Finding out about her pregnancy strained our relationship, but I thought it would get better with time.

  It hasn’t.

  Maxine and I exchange a few words in the evenings when I catch her before she leaves for her shift. Because I’m working at the bakery full-time now, I don’t see her for the rest of the day.

  It’s been tense at home. Even Moe and Tanisha are starting to pick up on it, sending us both uncertain glances when Maxine hands over her child-watching duties to me.

  I sigh as I take the dough out of the oven. My life feels like its flip-flopping harder than a fish out of water.

  I wish things would just go back to normal.

  No super hot boss invading my dreams at night and messing with me in the daytime.

  No Levonte impregnating my sister and asking me for a loan.

  No awkwardness between me and Maxine.

  The slap of dough against my hand echoes through the silence. I lose myself to my thoughts only to glance up and realize that Rosa still hasn’t arrived.

  The niggling of worry transforms into a full-blown blast of concern.

  Washing my hands in the sink, I grab my cell phone to call her.

  The phone rings.

  Rings.

  Click.

  Voicemail.

  I grip the phone tighter, my chest constricting as I think of all the horrible things that could have kept Rosa from coming to work.

  Man, I hope she’s okay.

  The hours crawl by at a snail’s pace.

  I watch the cookie dough rise in the oven. Pace to the window. Back to the cookies.

  It’s a dizzying cycle that feels like it’ll never end.

  Finally, I hear the bells jangling over the front door.

  Someone’s here.

  I dash outside, my eyes lifting with hope.

  Leona steps through, shaking snow from her teal hair and pulling back the hood of her jacket.

  I sigh. “Oh. Good morning.”

  “You don’t have to sound so disappointed, Clark,” she snaps.

  I blink rapidly, taken aback by her tone. “Rosa’s not here yet.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Are… you okay, Leona?”

  “I’m fine.” She shrugs out of her puffy coat and stomps to the counter. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

  I follow her across the room and peer into her face. Leona’s skin is the kind of pale that reveals her blushes in fiery red hues. Right now, her skin exposes the puffiness around her eyes, like she had a good cry on the way over.

  “Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No, Clark. And you can save your concern.”

  “You just look—”

  “What?” She snaps, lifting her head and glaring at me. “Is there something wrong with my face? Why do you have to be so freaking nosy?”

  My temper sparks. Girl, watch your tone.

  A tear spills from her eyes and she roughly swipes it away. Turning from me, she sniffs under her breath.

  Just like that, my fury cools.

  I’ve never loved anyone hard enough to have my heart broken. Since the day I decided I wanted to be a baker, I chased that goal and nothing else.

  But I can understand what she’s going through because I’ve seen Maxine endure the cycle of heartbreak often enough. Levonte would blow in like a storm and she’d be caught up in him. All smiles. All laughter. All kissy faces and dancing off into dark rooms to express their passion.

  Then, inevitably, the real world would hit.

  Levonte would bounce.

  And Maxine would be left behind to pick up the pieces, buy diapers, get baby formula and pay for school fees.

  She’d do it all while her emotions and mental well-being suffered from the beating Levonte put on it.

  Words can’t comfort a heart that’s been pierced through. Sometimes, a person needs to let the rage out so the wound can scab and, eventually, heal.

  “Nothing.” I back away from Leona. “I’ll get back to work.”

  She doesn’t answer.

  Not that I expected a reply.

  I leave Leona to her misery and tears. She’ll get over Mave’s rejection. There will be plenty of guys who’d love to take her out. Hell, she’s gotten enough numbers scribbled on napkins and slid across the counter to fill her tip jar.

  Right now, I have bigger things to worry about than Leona’s crushed feelings.

  Like the fact that Rosa’s still not here.

  I’m getting more and more worried about her.

  Returning to the kitchen, I take the pastries out of the oven. Keeping my hands busy helps to ward off my negative thoughts.

  The bakery opens for the day.

  I hear Stacie’s voice through the kitchen door as she helps Leona with the customers.

  Still no Rosa.

  As usual, Mave strolls in around ten, his stride long and his walk upright in that impressive, model-type way.

  I’m pretty sure he used to work in fashion before he joined the Caribbean HQ. He’s always dressed in designer brands. Crisp slacks. Fitted button-downs. A wide array of stylish jackets.

  He’s the one man I know who probably owns more outfits than either Maxine or I do. I’ve never seen him wear the same clothes twice.

  My concern for Rosa overtakes the usual blaze of appreciation that, begrudgingly, ignites every time I see him.

  Without warning, I barge into his path.

  He glances down at me, the familiar sparkle noticeably missing from his dark brown eyes.

  Mave has an effortless swagger that makes his every move feel charismatic. It’s why I don’t get offended by his jokes the way I would if it were Vulture spitting all those lines at me. It’s also why unease snakes through my veins when I see how serious he is this morning.

  My throat closes up and, for a second, I don’t want to ask.

  He arches an eyebrow. “Can I help you, Clark?”

  There.

  See that? Why would he address me in that crisp, business tone? It’s usually ‘need my help to reach the top shelf, Clark?’ or ‘any more Grinch sightings this morning?’ The nonsense pours out of him like water.

  I’d answer with a snappy quip of my own.

  We’d back-and-for
th.

  The day would start right.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I meet his eyes. “Have you talked to Rosa today? She’s not here yet and she’s never late.”

  “Rosa’s fine.”

  Relief explodes in my chest. “That’s good.”

  “She’ll be here soon.” He checks his watch, his biceps rippling beneath his shirt. “But she’s not working. She’s coming straight to my office.”

  The steel in Mave’s expression catches me off guard.

  I frown. “Why isn’t she working?”

  “I’ll discuss that with her.” He turns. Strides down the hallway.

  I stand there in stunned silence.

  Mave is usually so upbeat and playful that I don’t treat him like a manager. I know he is in theory and I get upset when he waltzes into the bakery whenever he darn well pleases, but it’s never felt like he’s higher in authority than any one of us.

  If anything, it often seems like we own this little bakery together.

  In the space of that terse conversation, I’m reminded that Mave is my boss and he’s fully aware of the authority he can wield. The fact that he was joking around with me was a choice with intent, not foolish ignorance.

  Curiosity flares so thickly I’m about to go insane.

  I wish I could ask Leona what’s going on, but she’s trying to start a feud with me. Plus, she’s busy working the front counter.

  I wrap an arm around myself, wondering if I should try to call Rosa one more time.

  At that moment, I hear the side-door opening.

  My heart jumps when I see Rosa stepping into the room. She’s wearing a thick coat and a scarf wrapped all the way up to her chin. Her brows hover low over eyes that seem troubled.

  I rush toward her, pulling her into a big hug. “Rosa, I’m so glad to see you. Why weren’t you answering your phone? Do you know how worried I was?”

  “I’m sorry,” she croaks.

  I inch back, my concern towering to new heights. “What’s going on? Why does Mave seem upset?”

  “It’s my fault.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “How can I not worry when you both are being so secretive,” I insist.

  She starts to walk away.

  I clutch her hand. “Rosa.”

  “Clark,” tears gather in her eyes and her voice cracks, “I hope you know that I really enjoyed working with you.”

  “What? Why would you say that all of a sudden?”

  She pats my hand in a motherly fashion. Once. Twice.

  Then she plods to Mave’s office. Her shoulders slump and her body moves with a dull, designated sadness. The entire trek screams dead woman walking.

  I want to reach out and give her a hug. Rosa’s been nothing but kind since my first day at the bakery. She’d bring platters of homemade food for me and my nieces and was always eager to help if I ask for it.

  The urge to paste myself to Mave’s office door and eavesdrop is overwhelming, but since I’m riding solo in the kitchen, I’ve got double the work.

  At last, Mave’s door opens.

  Footsteps thump down the corridor.

  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I see a woman running and crying as she leaves.

  Yesterday, I gave Leona her space.

  Today, I step into Rosa’s path and grab her shoulders. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head, the tears rolling down her face uncontrollably.

  Protectiveness stirs inside me. I lift my head, shooting an angry look in the office’s direction. “If Mave did anything to upset you, I’ll—”

  “No,” Rosa murmurs, her fingers trembling as she wipes her tears.

  “No?”

  She sniffs, the tip of her nose turning red.

  “Rosa, talk to me.” I lead her over to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Her eyes hit the floor. “Clark.” She struggles to speak without sobbing. “I’ve been stealing our leftovers in the evening.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” She cries harder, her words stuffy and pained. “My grandmother is living with us, but she recently got sick. We don’t have insurance and we could barely afford the hospital bills. They told us we need to buy her medicine, but the pills are so expensive. I couldn’t let her die.”

  “Rosa…” I rub her shoulder, my heart hurting for her.

  “I’m in charge of disposing the extra inventory at the end of the day, but when I thought about just throwing that stock in the trash, I couldn’t. So I’ve been sneaking back in at night and taking it to sell at a lower cost.”

  I blink rapidly. “You’re saying Mave found out?”

  “He caught me yesterday. I didn’t see his car and I thought no one was in the store. When he saw me, he told me we’d talk about it tomorrow.”

  My heart burns. Technically, Rosa was stealing, but it was just leftovers that we are legally obligated to throw away. Mave has every right to punish her, but I hate that she’s suffering.

  “I’m so sorry, Rosa. I’ll talk to Mave for you and see if I can—”

  “No.” She shakes her head again. “I’m not crying because I’m fired.”

  “You’re… not?”

  “Mave just offered to pay for my grandmother’s treatment.”

  My jaw hits the floor so fast it almost shatters the tiles. “He did?”

  “He told me not to worry and that I should take the day off and come back to work tomorrow.”

  Her words flash through my head, but I can’t seem to process them. “You’re telling me Mave didn’t fire you and that he’s helping your grandmother too?”

  “Yes.” Tears start pouring from her eyes afresh. “I was so overwhelmed for so long, Clark. It felt like the world kept knocking me to the ground and I wasn’t sure how I’d get up.” She clasps her hands. “This feels like a Christmas miracle.”

  “That’s… awesome.” My eyes dart to the hallway leading to Mave’s office.

  That man keeps on surprising me.

  I thought he was an arrogant, selfish prick, but there’s a soft heart beating under all that ego.

  My heart flutters.

  Could I have been wrong about him?

  11

  Mave

  Will grunts from the phone line. “Just the medical bills and medicine?”

  “If I think of anything else, I’ll add it to the list.” I pause. “Gran’s foundation can cover that, right?”

  “Doesn’t matter. A personal recommendation from you is all we need to move.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll take care of those bills today.”

  A door thuds on his side of the line.

  Muffled voices speak in a hush.

  “Is that Gran?”

  “Yes,” Will says brusquely. “She’s heading out for another meeting.”

  “She won’t talk to me?”

  “She’s busy.”

  “I thought she’d call every day, but I’ve barely heard from her in two weeks.”

  Will grunts.

  Which could mean anything.

  I rub the back of my neck. Spin my chair around. Stare out the grimy window overlooking the building next door. “I need another favor.”

  “Make it quick.”

  “I need you to check the company accounts. The numbers for the bakery were tampered with.”

  “You sure?”

  I rub my chin. Think about the conversation with Rosa. She knew absolutely nothing about the missing files or the changes in the spreadsheets.

  The mystery is bugging me even more now. I need to get behind this.

  “I’m almost certain. Is there a way we could get an accountant in here? Start an investigation on the down low?”

  “I’ll talk to your grandmother.”

  “Thanks.”

  My phone vibrates in my hand.

  “Hold up, Will. I’m getting another call.”

 
; He grunts. “Bye.”

  I end the conversation with Will and accept the other call.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, cuz.”

  I perk up. “Brendon.”

  Giggling echoes in the background. The sound of a woman playing Peek-a-boo turns my smile up to ten.

  “Kay, I got him,” Brendon says to his wife. “Just a minute, Mave. Let me put you on speaker.”

  A second later, a sweet voice says, “Hi, Mave!”

  “Kayla.” I lean back with a grin. “Have you ever considered dumping the matchmaking thing and going into adult hotlines? You’ve got the voice for it.”

  I imagine Brendon’s wife—light brown skin, long ponytail, full lips—rolling her pretty brown eyes.

  Brendon’s voice yells in the background, “Watch it, DeMarco.”

  “I’m just stating the obvious, Humes. I know you’re all about diversifying your portfolio.”

  “You’re so freaking annoying. I’m not investing in an adult hotline.”

  “You into it, Kay?”

  “Don’t drag me into your catfight,” she says.

  “Come on.” I grin. “Brendon will cave if you say the word.”

  “How are you so sure about that?” my cousin asks.

  “You bought a whole damn matchmaking company just to impress her.”

  “That’s not why I bought it,” he says with a laugh.

  “Right. The tech billionaire just randomly wants to play cupid?”

  “I’ll stand by my decision.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “You major in pissing me off, don’t you, DeMarco?”

  “At least I don’t make business decisions based on the woman I’m sleeping with, Humes. Just be glad the brain in your pants got lucky.” My fingers tighten on the phone as I try not to laugh. “And yes, I mean that in every way.”

  “She’s not a ‘woman I’m sleeping with’. She’s my wife, you punk. Get it right.”

  “My bad.” I shake my head. “I forgot you were whipped.”

  Kayla huffs. “You and Venus would have a field day together, wouldn’t you?”

  “Venus?” I scratch my chin. “She the hot matchmaker who’s always doing the Make It Marriage interviews? If so, you can give me her number.”

  “She’s happily married, sir.”

  “Damn it. Tell her to call me if it doesn’t work out.”

  “You’ll be waiting on that call forever because Troy’s obsessed with that woman.” Brendon chuckles.