“So…you’ll let me?”
“You wore me down.”
“I can be there in a half an hour. Sound good?”
“Better than good. Seriously, Peter, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“I hope you don’t regret this. Washing pots is the most tedious part of this job,” I said with raised eyebrows as Peter picked up my pair of latex gloves. The hot pink latex stretched as he attempted to put them on his large hands. “Oh no, I don’t think those will work for you. Hold on.”
Running across the workshop, I grabbed a box of x-large disposable gloves. Passing the box to Peter, I shrugged. “I ordered the wrong size on Amazon and was too lazy to return them.”
“Just my luck,” he said with a wink, tearing into the box. “And I won’t regret helping you.”
“Hope not.”
The sink was only a few steps away from where I kept my four large wax melters—my “cauldrons,” as Lyra called them. I added more wax chips to each one and watched as the already hot wax devoured the little white bits. When each was filled to the brim, I covered them with their tops and broke down another empty box of wax. Here we go.
“Those are pretty huge. How much do they hold?”
“Fifty pounds each.”
“That’s a lot of candles,” Peter said over the steam that drifted from the pots as he scrubbed them, little bubbles of soap floating from the sink.
“If sales are anything like last year, they’ll be gone by Saturday morning.”
“Wow,” he said with wide eyes. “I don’t know how you do it.”
I walked to him and placed a flirty kiss on his cheek before stepping out of his reach. “You will soon.”
“So not fair,” he said, holding up his hands, glossy with soapy bubbles. I winked and he flicked a bubble my way.
“Hey, watch the workshop, buddy. I run a clean operation here.”
“Sure you do.” He chuckled before flipping another clean pot onto one of the many drying racks set up on the counter. I grabbed a full box of empty jars and flipped it over before cutting the box open and covering the bottom of each jar with my standard warning label.
“This whole process is cool to watch,” he said, watching me in awe.
“It’s just labels.”
“No, I mean watching you make something from start to finish. The raw materials, the wax, everything… We never think about all it takes to make one simple little product.”
“You’re right. I guess it’s not that simple after all.”
“Exactly.”
“I love how you think. But I should expect that from a video game designer. Such an analytical brain.”
“Guilty.” He shrugged. “Every little pixel has to be planned out.”
“Is that what you love about it?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Constructing the details?”
Peter flipped another clean pot onto the counter, giving me a smile I couldn’t quite decipher. “No one’s ever asked me that before. Yeah, I think so.”
Was it pride? No. Appreciation.
“I like knowing what makes people tick. What inspires.”
“That makes sense… I mean, look at what you do. You pick out the best quotes, the romantic or adventurous essence of a book and you turn it into an experience.”
“An experience, huh? Maybe I should hire you for marketing.”
“No, hear me out,” he said, drying his gloves and grabbing another empty box, flipping it over for me as I grabbed my box-cutter. The way we worked so well together, like we were in sync. It was unnerving but enticing.
“Someone loves a book, right? Let’s say Pride and Prejudice. You’ve captured the smell of the rain… You bring the reader to that very spot when Darcy professes his love. You make it real for them, Maren. You make magic happen.”
Stunned, I stared at him, speechless. My heart pounded so fast, I felt overwhelmed and satisfied, mystified and validated. I stood, frozen, my eyes never leaving his gaze.
“Maren? What is it?”
“That might be the greatest compliment of my life.”
His shoulders relaxed and his pale cheeks blushed. “Oh.”
I grabbed hold of the apron he was wearing, way too small for his lean, muscular frame, and pulled him to me. He licked his lips as he peered into my eyes.
“I want to be your girlfriend,” I said, no longer feeling patient. I wanted him, needed him to be mine.
Peter’s smile grew broad. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Placing one finger under my chin, Peter leaned in and kissed me deeply. He pulled me into his embrace, the wet apron grazing my neck as he showered my face with kisses.
“For the record, I was planning to ask you tonight.”
“Sure you were,” I teased. Placing a gentle kiss on his nose.
“I guess you’ll never know, will you?” he teased right back, nuzzling into my neck and sucking ever so gently on the skin beneath my ear.
“If you keep doing that, my wax is going to overheat.”
He looked up for a second, a devilish smile on his face. “So will I.”
Eagerly, he returned to kissing me, bringing his attention to my ear. I craned my neck to see if I’d locked the doors, not wanting anyone to interrupt us. Luckily, I had. We were completely alone…and the wax had at least an hour before it’d be ready.
Work be damned.
Gently, I lifted his face from the base of my neck, my eyes boring into his. “Take off those gloves.”
Peter laughed before pulling at the latex gloves on his hands. They snapped off before falling to the floor.
“While you’re at it, lose the pants too.”
Peter wasted no time in stripping off his pants. And I broke out into hysterical laughter. Peter looked down, realizing he was still wearing an apron over his shirt.
“What? This doesn’t turn you on?” He turned to the side, running his fingers down the wet cotton apron, faking his best smolder.
“Oh baby, so hot.”
He untied the apron and lifted it over his head, tossing it over his shoulder. All that was left was his University of Washington sweatshirt and plaid boxer shorts.
“Better?”
“Nah,” I said. “You still have too many clothes on.”
“Says the woman who’s covered from head to toe.”
I turned away from him, pulling my T-shirt down, revealing my bare shoulder.
“That’s right. Keep going,” Peter said playfully. With a mischievous grin, I pulled my shirt to cover my shoulder once again.
“You’re killin’ me,” he joked, tearing off his sweatshirt and stalking toward me. I turned back to face him, ripping my T-shirt off and tossing it over his shoulder.
“We’re still not even, but that’s a start.”
Next, I unbuttoned my jeans and wriggled them off my legs. “Better.”
We stood, smiling at one another before Peter placed his hands on my waist and lifted me up onto the cold countertop. His agile fingers removed my bra as his lips caressed mine, softly at first, but growing more eager with each passing second. I hooked my fingertips onto the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to the floor. Peter sighed as I gripped the smooth skin of his ass, urging him closer to me.
“Here?” he asked, pulling away, looking around my workshop.
“Yes.”
Without another word, he kissed me passionately, pulling me down from the counter and removing my panties. My heart raced, and my breath quickened at his touch. Sweet, charming Peter had been replaced by ravenous, lustful Peter, and it was turning me on. I wrapped my legs around him once again, pressing my pelvis into him. I was ready, I wanted him desperately, and I wanted him to know it. A tremulous smile crossed his lips as he entered me slowly. My fingers dug into the hot skin of his back as I eased him in farther.
“You’re so sexy,” he whispered before licking my neck, thrusting into me. I tilted my hips to meet his movements, placing one hand behind me
on the counter to steady us both.
“I want you, Peter. So badly.”
Peter moaned at my words; the pace of his thrusts quickened and I felt a pulse within me, urging me to match his movements with my own. He steadied me, pressing his palm to the small of my back as he continued to thrust, his lips pressed to my shoulder as I came apart beneath him. I cried out, my nails digging into his skin, my head thrown back as I screamed his name. His other hand gripped the counter as he slammed into me one last time, his forehead pressed to mine. I felt him tremble—a sweet, involuntary, and vulnerable tremble. I pulled him tight and kissed him gently.
“You amaze me,” he whispered, his breathing labored.
“We officially christened this workshop.”
“Really?” He pulled back, wonder in his eyes. “You’ve never done that here…before? With anyone else?”
“Are you calling me a slut?” I joked.
“No, I just mean…I know you were serious with someone.”
I shook my head. “Like I said, you were the first.”
“And hopefully the only.” His voice cracked. I could hear the emotion, feel it to my core. Peter was falling just as hard as I was. And I was so grateful for that.
“Yes,” I nodded, kissing him again. “Hopefully the only.”
We stayed there together for several moments; Peter rubbed my back gingerly, and I closed my eyes, easing into his chest.
I could stay like this forever.
“I feel bad, though. I mean, not really, but kind of,” he said with a slight chuckle.
“What do you mean?”
“I was supposed to help you with your shop, not distract you.”
I giggled. “You can distract me like that anytime, Peter McTavish.”
A proud grin appeared on his handsome face. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter 12
PETER
Despite the unplanned countertop sex, Maren and I actually had a pretty productive evening in her shop. She was able to pour more than two hundred candles and, as she predicted, they were all sold by the Saturday after Thanksgiving. And so, it didn’t surprise me when she agreed to let me help her every Sunday evening during the holiday rush. We talked as we worked—telling each other stories from our childhood, our dating mishaps, and trips we’d love to take together. I started looking forward to Sunday afternoons almost as much as Saturday nights.
At Lyra’s suggestion, Maren hired three seasonal workers to run the floor so that she could spend her days in the workshop and avoid twelve-hour days. Because I had Lyra to thank for the amount of time I was able to spend with Maren, I decided to throw my very first dinner party. Maren and I had been official for a few weeks, and I was ready for her to meet my friends. And I thought including Lyra could be a step in her and I actually becoming friends too.
Maren left the shop early to help me prepare the meal. Fig balsamic pork tenderloin, roasted sweet potatoes, and green beans with Maren’s butterscotch pie for dessert. Lyra arrived first, wine in hand, and her contribution to the meal, homemade pretzel bread. Little puffs of steam rose from the basket that was covered with a striped cloth.
“That smells amazing. Maren didn’t tell me that you like to bake.”
“She makes candles to blow off steam; I prefer my kitchen.”
“Nice,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and gesturing for her to come inside.
“I like your place,” she said, looking around before passing me her wool coat.
“Thanks, Maren’s been sprucing it up a bit.”
“Maren?” She tilted her head to the side, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Never.”
“I heard that,” Maren said, rounding the corner of the kitchen. “I waited until we were official. I’m not that pushy.”
“Whatever,” Lyra said, rolling her eyes as she handed Maren the basket of bread. Maren raised it to just beneath her nose and inhaled deeply. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
“Mmm! Why can’t I find fragrance oil in this scent? It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“You have sweet bread and strawberry jam. Close enough,” Lyra countered.
“I know, but this is savory, salty… It’s different.” She sniffed again. “I bet this tastes wonderful.”
“Hope so,” Lyra said with a laugh. “I’ve never made it before. You’re my taste testers. So, who else is coming?”
“My best friend Scott and his wife, Allison. They should be here soon.”
The doorbell rang, and I walked to the door of my apartment.
“And Dev,” Maren added as I opened the door. “They’ve all been friends since college.”
“Hey, guys,” I said to Scott and Allison, who grinned as she handed me a bottle of red and walked past me.
“You must be Maren. I’ve heard so much about you,” Allison said.
“It’s so great to meet you,” Maren replied, pulling Allison in for a hug. “And I’ve been meaning to apologize too.”
“Whatever for?” Allison looked puzzled. And I had to admit I was just as puzzled, not understanding what Maren could possibly need to apologize for.
“It’s because of me that Peter had to leave your wedding.”
Allison waved her away. “Are you kidding me? You saved Burton’s life. I’m grateful to you.”
Maren put her hand on heart. “Oh thank God. I felt awful when I found out where he was supposed to be.”
“I mean, we missed him of course, but don’t be silly. We’re just so happy to finally meet you. I feel like Peter’s been hiding you from us.”
“Hiding is a strong word,” Scott corrected, extending his hand to Maren. “Great to meet you, Maren. I’ve heard nothing but good things. What my wife means to say is that we know you’re working a ton right now and your social time is limited.”
Scott mouthed “sorry” to me as his wife continued. I shook my head and smiled. I’d known Allison for years and expected her to talk nonstop when meeting my girlfriend. “Speaking of which, I had no idea The Lit Wick was your shop. I’ve been shopping there for months!”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Lyra said as I joined Maren, taking her hand in mine. “Hi, I’m Lyra. Best friend and employee.”
“Yes!” Allison said, extending her hand. “You sold me a Jane Austen set, right? It was a couple of weeks ago.”
“I think so—you’re crazy for Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes.” Allison turned to Scott. “She’s an Austen expert. Knows practically every word to Pride and Prejudice.”
“Guilty,” Lyra said with confidence. “Maren and I first bonded over Austen.”
“Is that right?” Allison asked. “Anymore Austen candles in the pipeline?”
“Probably next year,” Maren said. “I just re-read Persuasion, so I’m thinking a candle is necessary.”
“Oh definitely,” Allison said. There was another knock at the door.
“That must be Dev,” I said, kissing the back of Maren’s hand and walking to the door. My smile disappeared as soon as I opened the door.
“Cara?”
“Hey there, stranger.”
“Um…” I looked into the hallway, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“I came with Dev. He dropped his keys in the elevator.” She rolled her eyes. “Such an idiot.”
Cara raised her eyebrows and puckered her lips. She knew she wasn’t invited to this. Somehow she managed to weasel an invite from unsuspecting Dev.
“Hey, man.” I heard Dev round the corner of the hallway. “Sorry we’re late.”
“We?” I asked incredulously, my cheeks hot.
“Hi, I’m Maren,” Maren said, joining me at the door.
“Cara.” She batted her eyelashes, a wicked grin on her face. “We’ve met.”
I could see Maren’s shoulders stiffen. “Cara. Yes, at my shop.” She turned to me, her brow furrowed. “You came in with Peter.”
“That’s right.” The smug expression on Cara’s face
had me seeing red.
Don’t ruin this for me, Cara.
Grabbing Dev by the arm, I pulled him to the side. “Dude. What the hell?”
“What? You said you wanted your friends to meet Maren. And Cara’s our friend.”
“You know Cara wants more than that.”
Dev scoffed, shaking his head. “She told me that’s ancient history, man. Besides, I think I might have a chance with her.”
“You’re interested in Cara?”
“Hell yeah. She’s hot as hell, dude.” He raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on my elbow, serious. “Wait, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
I shook my head vigorously. “Of course not.”
“I’m just playing, man. I know you’re whipped.”
He peered into the room and looked back at me before doing a double take. “Hold up. Who is that?”
“Maren.” I cleared my throat. “My girlfriend.”
“Um, no, dude, I know who Maren is. I’ve seen pictures on your phone. I’m talking about the goddess standing next to her. Who is that?”
“That’s Lyra, Maren’s best friend.”
“She’s hot as hell.” He looked at his button-down shirt, smoothing it and running a hand through his black hair. “Introduce me.”
“Wait,” I said, confused. “Two seconds ago you were into Cara.”
Dev waved me off. “I’m keeping my options open, dude. You know that. I’m swiping left and right all the damn time.”
I shook my head, laughing under my breath. “Whatever. Follow me.”
We joined the rest of the group in the kitchen. Once again, I took Maren’s hand in mine. I could feel the tension in her grip. I wanted to ease her concerns about Cara—make sure she knew that I had nothing to do with Cara showing up. But it would have to wait for at least a few minutes. I had to introduce her to Dev first.
“Dev, this is my girlfriend, Maren.”
“Great to meet you, Dev.”
“And her best friend, Lyra.”
Dev stepped past me, taking Lyra’s hand gently in his own as if she was wounded.
What are you doing, Dev?
“Did it hurt?”
Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel Page 10
