Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  My alarm blares what feels like minutes later.

  A creak of my eyes tells me it’s been a few hours.

  2:15 A. M.

  My body protests when I sit up, but I can’t afford to snooze any more than I already have.

  The cold bites my skin as I prepare for a new day.

  After a shower and a whispered goodbye to Maxine, I leave the apartment and brave the dark hallway.

  A luxury SUV is parked out front. A tall, broad-shouldered man leans against the truck. He’s dressed in a thick coat and scarf. Gloved hands rub together briskly. His knee thumps to ward off the cold.

  “Mave?” I gasp.

  His head whips up. Dark brown eyes pierce the shadows. The cold paints his nose red and icicles are forming on his thick eyelashes.

  “What are you doing here?” I stare at him, my jaw dropping.

  His teeth chatters when he speaks. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be up, so I came early.”

  “You should have called and told me you were outside.” I yank my scarf from my neck and wrap it around him.

  He pushes my hands away. “Keep it. You need to stay warm.”

  “Come on.” I nudge him toward the car. “Get inside.”

  Instead of jogging around the hood, he opens the door for me.

  “Mave.” I frown. He’s trembling so much.

  “Go on.”

  I jump in as quickly as I can.

  Mave slides into the driver’s seat. Thankfully, he left the car running and the heater is on so we’re not sitting in a moving igloo, but it’s still not enough.

  Concerned, I pull his hands between my own and rub them. “Are you trying to die of hyperthermia? Why would you stand out there in the freezing wind this early in the morning?”

  “I didn’t want to call you in case you were still sleeping.”

  “You should have honked when I came out then.”

  “I thought you might not recognize my car.”

  I tear off his wet gloves and yank his hands to my lips. Blowing on them, I keep massaging his palms between my own.

  As I fuss over him, I feel Mave’s heated gaze on me.

  I glance up. Get trapped in his gaze.

  With all that smolder trained in my direction, I barely feel the cold.

  My movement stalls.

  Awareness sends a shockwave of heat through my stomach.

  Dropping his hands, I face the windshield. “We should go. Rosa and I have a lot of work to do today so I can’t be late.”

  “Clark.” He slings an elbow over the steering wheel. Pink lips curve up as he stares at me.

  I remain stiff.

  “Clark.”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.”

  I slowly turn my face toward him.

  The tenderness in his eyes takes my breath away. I try telling myself that he probably looks that way at every woman, but it doesn’t stick.

  My heartbeat thrums to a frantic beat.

  Sweat beads on my forehead.

  This man should not be so gorgeous at two in the morning.

  Mave’s hair has that ’just woke up tussle’ to it. His high cheekbones and square jaw could cut through ice. Dark brows slash over intense eyes.

  Even the red tip of his nose can’t mar his attractiveness. Instead, it brings a quiet humanity to his otherwise perfect face.

  Mave smiles. Without a word, he starts the car.

  “What was that?” I ask breathlessly.

  “I was checking something.” He cruises down the empty street.

  “Checking what?”

  “If I’d feel any differently about you today.”

  “And?”

  “I do.” He glances at me. “You’re even more beautiful this morning than you were yesterday.”

  Damn.

  I’m not immune to his sweet-talking and he knows it.

  “Oh, before I forget.” Mave reaches behind him and pulls a plastic bag from the backseat. “You haven’t had breakfast, right? I got that from a twenty-four hour diner. There’s coffee too. Brewed it myself.”

  My heart balloons like someone pumped it to the max. “You didn’t.”

  “Here.” He hands me the cup.

  I take it. Wrap my fingers around the cardboard.

  Still warm.

  After taking a sip, a moan slips past my lips. “That’s so good.”

  “Is it?” He looks pleased.

  Maxine’s advice echoes in my head.

  Don’t judge him because of what dad did. Give him a chance to prove he’s different.

  Setting the coffee down, I ask, “Is your hand still cold?”

  “Huh?”

  I put my hand on top of his. “Just in case.”

  His smirk tells me he knows what I’m doing, but I don’t acknowledge it and I’m surprised when he doesn’t tease me either.

  Mave turns his hand over and interlaces our fingers.

  His touch is warm. Strong.

  Perfect.

  I bite down on my lip to keep my smile from blooming.

  Comfortable silence falls between us.

  But it’s shattered by the chirping of my phone.

  Mave’s cell goes off too.

  My brows tighten.

  We break our hold on each other to fish for our phones.

  “Hello?” Mave’s deep voice fills the car.

  I check my screen.

  “Rosa?” I whisper in surprise. Fumbling to press the ‘answer’ button, I stick the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “What?” Mave’s troubled tone makes me swerve my head and glance at him.

  His eyes dart to mine and widen.

  My heart drops to my toes.

  What’s going on?

  “I’ll be right there,” Mave growls, thrusting his foot on the gas.

  “Rosa, is something wrong?” I demand.

  “It’s the bakery,” Rosa shrieks. “It’s on fire!”

  22

  Mave

  Blue and red police lights flash in the darkness. I suck in a breath of the crisp, morning air and stare at the bakery, grateful to see the building managed to survive the harrows of the night.

  Footsteps crunch the snow.

  A police officer approaches me. He pulls a pen from the front of his jacket and scratches his moustache with the end of it. “You the manager?”

  I nod. “Is there a lot of damage inside?”

  “Nah. The sprinklers outed the flames before it could get too bad. The smoke got to the kitchen but not to the front room.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’d air out the place for a couple hours just in case.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” He smacks a small notebook in the middle of his palm. Thumb to his lips, he licks his finger and then spreads open a page. “From what I can see, the fire started in your office.” He arches an eyebrow. “Have any idea what could’ve caused it?”

  “No.” My jaw clenches.

  “Something going on I should know about?” He eyes me.

  I hesitate. “We’re looking into some funds that might have been… misplaced.”

  “I see.” He gestures to the bakery. “So this could be someone trying to cover their tracks.”

  “Certainly appears that way.” My gaze slides past the police cars and firetrucks to the other side of the sidewalk.

  Clark’s still hugging Rosa. The moment the two women met, Clark just opened her arms. Rosa fell into them, releasing her tears into Clark’s dull brown polo.

  As if she can feel my stare, Clark glances up.

  Our eyes connect over the chaos swirling around us.

  She lifts her lips in a brave smile.

  My heart stirs like a torpedo searing through my chest. I imagine what would’ve happened if Clark had been here a little earlier. Alone. Stuck in the bakery.

  With an arsonist.

  Just thinking about it makes me furious.

  I turn to the police officer. “Did the perp leave a
ny clues?”

  “Not that we could see. We’re lifting some prints but don’t hold your breath. This is a high-trafficked facility, so it probably won’t reap any solid leads. We’ll take a look at your security camera feed. See if we can find any clues on that.”

  I nod, happy that I’d gone ahead and set up the discrete security cameras in my office. Back then, when I caught Rosa snooping around the bakery, I almost changed my mind about the cameras, thinking I’d caught the culprit. Something told me to put the cameras up anyway.

  “That’s it for now.” The officer taps the pen against his notebook.

  “If you have any more questions, feel free to call.” I shake his hand.

  He nods. “Will do.”

  Leaving the police behind, I jog to Clark.

  “Hey.” She withdraws her arms from Rosa. Her brown eyes flicker with worry. “What did the police say?”

  “They didn’t find any clues.” I set my hand on her shoulder, needing to touch her so I don’t lose my cool. I’m still stuck on the thought of what could have happened had she been at the bakery alone with the culprit. I’m never letting this woman out of my sight again. “But they’re pretty sure the fire was started deliberately.”

  Rosa shudders. “Why would someone do that?”

  “I’m not sure.” I lick my lips. “But I’m confident we’re going to get to the bottom of things.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You both can take the day off. We’ll clean up here and sort things out with the forensics team. I have to take stock of the damage. Figure out what’s missing. It’ll take a while.”

  Clark shakes her head. “We can’t take off now.”

  “Who will bake?” Rosa asks hesitantly.

  “If we don’t have any goods,” I shrug, “there’s no need to open.”

  Clark’s eyebrows slash down over her narrowing eyes. “Mave, we can’t do that. The bakery needs as much help as it can get to keep afloat.”

  “Clark—”

  “No.” Determination blazes from her expression. “We’ll throw all the windows open and do everything we can to get the smell out, but we’re not closing the store today. Not this close to Christmas.”

  “I agree.” Rosa juts her chin down.

  My fingers tighten on Clark’s shoulders.

  The urge to dip her back and kiss her breathless overwhelms me, but I stop myself just in time.

  With a deep breath, I release her. Nod. “Okay.”

  Clark high fives Rosa.

  The two women share giddy smiles.

  “But,” I stick up a finger, “if the smoke gets too much for either of you or if I see that you’re not feeling well,” I stare Clark down especially, “I’m dragging you out of there. Over my shoulder and kicking and screaming if I have to.”

  “Yes, boss.” She slants me a sassy grin.

  My pants tighten.

  One day, I’m going to turn that smirk into a moan so loud they’ll hear it from space.

  I cross my arms over my shoulders. Try to look intimidating. “Don’t push yourself. I mean that.”

  “I said I understand.” She glances at Rosa. “You ready?”

  “Uh… yes.” Rosa’s eyes dart between me and Clark.

  “I’ll walk you in.”

  She stops me with a hand on my chest. “We’ve got this.”

  “Clark.”

  “Mave.”

  I’m about to insist that I accompany them when my phone rings.

  Gran.

  I sigh. Run a hand through my hair.

  “Let’s go,” Clark tells Rosa, hurrying away while I’m distracted.

  “I’m serious, Clark. Don’t you dare push yourself!!”

  “Stop being annoying!” She waves me off dismissively.

  Biting back another sigh, I pick up Gran’s call.

  “Mave, I just got a call from the police. Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?”

  “I’m fine. Clark and Rosa are good too. The smoke detector went off and the sprinklers put out most of the flames before it got too bad.”

  “I heard an employee was on the scene.”

  “Rosa saw the smoke and thought the worst, so she was a little frightened, but apart from that everything is still standing.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Gran moans. “You have no idea how much my heart hurt when I heard the bakery was on fire. Have they figured out where it started?”

  “My office.”

  “What? Why?”

  I lower my voice. “Gran, I think someone might have found out we hired Austin to comb through the accounts. This is feeling more and more suspicious to me.”

  “You said you had a lead, right? The company liaison?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have any concrete proof that he’s involved?”

  “Not concrete.”

  “So what are you judging him on?”

  “Apart from him flirting with Clark and being a pain in my—”

  “Maverick DeMarco,” Gran barks, “don’t tell me you’re only suspicious of this man because he hit on Clark.”

  “He’s a snake, Gran.”

  “That is not enough to point fingers at him or accuse him of arson.” I imagine her rubbing the bridge of her nose the way she used to do when she found me stoned out in bed or gripping the back of a naked girl’s head in her office. “Alright, just… I’ll send Will to you.”

  “We don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “You definitely do.”

  “He can’t watch me all the time, Gran.”

  “It’ll make me feel better.”

  “No.”

  “At least let him watch the store for a couple of days. I swear I can’t sleep thinking that things are escalating to setting fires. What if someone tries to hurt you?”

  “They won’t.”

  “Still.”

  “Don’t send, Will. It’ll only look suspicious. Let me sort this out on my own. If the situation gets hotter, I’ll send for Will myself.”

  “I’ll go with you on this, Mave. But in exchange, you must call me if things get out of hand. I don’t want to find out something bad happened when I could have helped.”

  “You’ll be the first person I call, Gran.”

  “Alright. I love you, Mave.”

  “Love you too. Get back to work and don’t worry about me.”

  A firefighter waves to get my attention.

  I return to the fray, paying close attention as the officials go over their final precautions.

  They’re clearing us to use the space as long as the smoke dissipates. Since Clark’s insisting on baking today, I’ll do everything I can to make that happen even if I have to bust a hole in the wall.

  When all the police cars and fire trucks leave, the street looks oddly empty.

  I enter the bakery and head to the kitchen.

  A flurry of activity greets me.

  Metal trays clank against the table.

  Wooden pins thud.

  Clark’s rolling out cookie dough like her life depends on it.

  The scent of smoke hangs heavy in the air.

  My chest stirs with the desire to bust her out of here. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn?

  I walk over to her. “Take it easy.”

  “We’re behind schedule.” She tosses her hair out of her eyes and peers at me.

  I gesture to her arms. “You’ll hurt yourself at this rate.

  “I’ve done this a hundred times, Mave.”

  “But—”

  “Get out. You’re distracting me.”

  I frown. “Is she always this bossy, Rosa?”

  “When she’s stressed?” Rosa smirks. “Yes.”

  Clark shakes her hair out of her eyes. “We’re playing it too close to opening. I don’t want customers to wait because we didn’t have ourselves in order.”

  “There was a fire, Clark. How the hell is that on you?”

  She blows a strand from her face in frustration. “But they sh
ouldn’t know that there was a problem back here.”

  I shake my head. Stride toward her. “Where’s your clip?”

  “What?”

  “Your hair clip, Clark,” I say firmly.

  She juts her chin at her purse. “In there.”

  I turn from her. Walk to her bag.

  The oven slams shut.

  Bending down, I rummage through her purse until I find a hair clip.

  Clark is busy stirring something in the industrial mixer.

  I move to her.

  Press close to her body.

  The monster in my pants rises in anticipation.

  I grit my teeth. Inch back before she can feel how badly I want her.

  Clark spins to glare at me. “What are you doing?”

  “Turn around.”

  “Mave.”

  “Turn.” I arch an eyebrow. “Around.”

  Her eyes bore into me.

  The room sizzles with heat.

  Damn.

  If I could just peel her pants down for a second. Bend her over this table.

  Untap all that angry energy.

  I shake my head of the fantasy and nod to the wall.

  Her chest heaves, but she begrudgingly returns to her task.

  I gather her hair in my hands. Twisting the mass of honey-blonde locks until it can all fit in my grip, I hold up the clip.

  The ends of her hair fall through the circle.

  I draw it up.

  Cinch it tight.

  Twist.

  Cinch it again.

  The ponytail holds and I step back, admiring my work.

  Clark glances over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Rosa clears her throat. “Are you two trying to start another fire in here?”

  I smirk and back away from Clark before I do something stupid and unprofessional.

  Just wait until I get you alone, woman.

  “I’ll be in the office seeing what I can salvage.”

  Clark nods without turning around.

  I head out of the kitchen.

  The closer I get to the office, the thicker the scent of the smoke becomes. I cough, waving away the fumes as best as I can.

  When I peer through the door, I almost groan.

  The fire tore through the carpet and the cardboard boxes. It also destroyed the fake fern.

  What the flames didn’t burn, the sprinklers finished off. Puddles of water soak through soggy paper, cardboard and junk. Muddy footprints pattern the floor from where the police and firemen had trudged through.