by Lexi Sinner
Apart from the slight difference in their height, the two blonde girls could have passed off as twin sisters. They almost always dressed alike too. April looked at them with pride and smiled.
“Go for it, angels.” She said cheerfully. “Happy hunting.”
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TEMPTATION TALES
Story 9
Chapter One
My dad had been getting on my damn nerves for weeks.
Well, really more for years.
Since I started high school he’d be hovering over all of my choices. My grades were good, I went to class, I didn’t party too much or get drunk but it wasn’t enough.
Honestly, he probably just wanted a son and was gripping to straws trying to make sure he’d have someone to take over his business.
Instead, he had me. An ungrateful daughter, according to him, who wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I didn’t understand why I’d need to! Life is about finding your own way, about figuring out who you are and what you want to do. It shouldn’t be about following in the footprints of someone else just because they want a legacy.
It’s not like it was easy to be passionate about pastry baking anyways.
He had no right to tell me what to do with my life.
Flopping down onto my bed, I stared up at the ceiling angrily.
Graduation was a couple days ago, and then I spent the weekend with friends out on the lake lighting fireworks and talking about our futures. Everyone seemed to have a good idea of what they wanted in life, and I felt like I was still having trouble with it.
I’d been left behind somehow.
It pissed me off more, because the moment I showed interest in anything else my dad seemed to think it was about him. That I’d failed him and was just trying to get away with shirking my perceived obligation to him.
I’d been working in his bakery since I was old enough to pull a tray out of the oven.
You’d think that if I wanted his life I would have felt that spark by now.
I hadn’t.
I shifted on my bed, trying to think about anything else, and accidentally knocked my bag off. It thudded on the ground loudly, and I winced, hoping he didn’t hear it. I couldn’t handle another talk from him right now.
I’d tried to sneak into the house to avoid him, since he saw me graduating high school as him getting free range to direct my life. I could hear the television turn off down the stairs, and I sighed, knowing he had figured out I was home.
“Kaylie?” I heard my dad call my name as he headed up the stairs. Frustrated, not wanting to hear him talk circles around my complaints, I shoved my face in my pillow and groaned. Couldn’t he just let me have a week without nagging?
He’d tightened the leash so much since my mother passed when I was seven, it was suffocating me.
“Hey, honeybee,” he said, knocking on my door as he opened it.
“Hey dad,” I sighed, rolling over and crossing my arms defensively.
“Congrats on graduation again,” he smiled, leaning against my door frame. He was looking older lately, as though me graduating high school triggered him to automatically age about ten years. He was still working twelve hours six days a week, he didn’t seem to slow down even for a couple minutes.
I didn’t want that life.
“Thank you,” I said. I sat up and pushed my long red hair out of my face.
“So, what do you think you’re going to do from here?” he asked, acting like it was an easy question.
“I don’t know,” I reminded him, I could see his brow crease at the words. “I just want to figure myself out for a while, maybe do some odd jobs and see what clicks,” I explained.
“What about college?” he asked, his voice going tense.
Here we go again.
“I don’t want to go to college,” I reminded him. “I don’t think hopping right back into school after twelve straight years of it is what I need right now,” I explained.
“It’s free, I’ll be paying for it and you can take anything you want,” he said, frowning at me. I knew why he was saying this.
“Look, dad, I don’t want to go to school, I know you’re only paying for it because you hope that’ll help push me towards a culinary school,” I frowned at him.
“How could you say that? I just want what’s best for you,” he said, his temper rising. He frowned in a way that made his mustache cover his mouth. He looked like a muppet, or possibly a cartoon character, I couldn’t take the old man seriously.
“Okay, if you want what’s best for me, what does that look like?” I asked, staring him down.
“Well, college,” he started, he seemed to know exactly what he wanted to answer. “You could do business school, culinary school, marketing, anything you want,” he explained. “No matter what you do it’ll help out with the family business, if you don’t want to bake there are other ways to go around it,” he was on a rant, and was proving me right the whole time.
“Dad I don’t want to take over the stupid family business,” I said for what must have been the hundredth time that year.
“It’s not a stupid business!” he was raising his voice.
“I don’t want to go into it, I’m not wasting my time on it,” I shot back, exasperated and done with him.
“Then you can either pay rent to live here or move out, I’m not going to let you freeload,” he said angrily.
“I can’t afford that, I don’t even have a job yet- I just graduated,” I said, shaking my head. I could feel my heart going still in my chest.
“Then you can go to school,” he said flatly.
“I can’t,” I repeated, shaking my head. “I really, really don’t want to go back to school yet, I want more freedom than that,” I explained. I hated the feeling of being in large classes, stuck with dozens of other people who cared as little as I did.
“Then I’ll get you a tutor,” he said flatly.
“What?” I asked, the idea wasn’t a terrible one. It would be one on one and I’d be able to have some free time outside of it to figure out who I was.
“Do you remember my friend James Richards?” Dad asked, sighing and trying to relax.
“I do,” I admitted. He was about ten or fifteen years older than me, and had worked for my dad for ten years before he moved onto his own business. Last I heard he was filthy rich. I hadn’t seen him in years.
“He’s recently moved back into town, I’m sure for a favor I could have him teach you about pastry making and running a business. If you still don’t want to do this after the summer is over, you can choose how to live your life, I won’t try and direct you anymore,” he offered.
I could tell it was taking a lot for him to offer this.
“Okay,” I agreed, knowing for sure that there was no way I’d change my mind. I could go to these tutoring lessons for a couple months and then be off scot free. Perfect.
Chapter Two
I drove myself to my first lesson.
My dad gave me Mister Richard’s address, and although I knew the area was one of the richer parts of the city, I was surprised to see how large his home really was. It was definitely a mansion settled on endless green land. I would have stood outside of it longer, admiring how large it was, but a summer thunderstorm was rolling in and I didn’t want to get caught in it.
That’s one of the few flaws of growing up on the coast, the summers are long and beautiful but almost every other afternoon in the summer there are showers or thunderstorms. I distantly reminded myself that I needed to get an umbrella to leave in my car.
Walking up to his door, I adjusted my shirt and took a deep breath. I’d act interested, just enough to keep him from being onto my game, and then once two months are up I’d be free. I just had to stick with this for that long.
Pressing the doorbell, I waited with baited breath.
I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but I tried to calm myself.
The door swung op
en, and I felt my nerves spike all over again.
Oh my god he was beautiful.
A statuesque man that looked like he was carved out of actual stone. His green eyes met mine and it felt like electricity from the approaching storm was striking right to my core. His skin was a beautiful tan-olive color, his dark hair was loosely curled, kissing his cheekbones and thick angular jaw. He was wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top couple of buttons plucked loose. I could see hints of the muscle he was hiding beneath it, but I tried to keep my eyes on his.
“Kaylie?” he said, sounding surprised. He stepped back, opening the door further. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you,” he admitted, there was something in his voice that let me know he was checking me out as well.
Oh my god.
I never looked at him seriously growing up, he was just a friend of my fathers and he was so much older than me, but now that I was looking at him I could feel my face flushing with color. He was so damn hot. I never got much time to enjoy myself or flirt with boys growing up, since my dad was the hovering sort and wouldn’t leave me alone with any of them.
I wanted to flirt with Mister Richard.
Not that it was a good idea.
I was quiet, my mind racing, as he led me through his expansive house and into the kitchen.
The kitchen looked like someone had torn a page from a home-decorating magazine and turned it into reality. It was almost too perfect, and I suddenly couldn’t decide if I was still asleep or not.
“Here,” he said, offering me an apron.
I only realized, at that moment, that I hadn’t said a single word to him yet.
“Thank you, Mister Richards,” I said, tightening the strings of the apron around my waist.
“You can call me James,” he laughed. Somehow the black apron he put on over his clothes made him even more attractive. I never thought that a man covering up would improve how I saw him, but damn I just wanted to kiss him.
Maybe more.
I wasn’t quite sure what else that ‘more’ could be, but I wasn’t going to question it.
“So, today we’re just going to make some simple doughs, we’re not even going to turn the oven on,” he explained, pulling out ingredients as he walked around his kitchen. “The most important thing to know is that what kinds of fats you use, and whether they’re cold or room temperature, can completely change the composition of any recipe,” he smiled at me and I could feel my heart racing.
“I’ve done this much before,” I admitted.
“Good, then today should be easy for you,” he laughed, pulling out some measuring spoons and cups. “We’ll make three types of dough, here,” he handed me a sifter. “Can you go ahead and sift out two cups of this flower for me?” he asked, pushing a bowl and bag towards me as well. I nodded and did as he said, tingling at the sensation of having his attention fully on me.
“Why did you agree to do this? You don’t seem like you’d need the extra money,” I said, needing to say anything. I was genuinely curious.
“I owe your father, big time, for my career. Without him I wouldn’t be anything, so this is just a small thing to repay him,” he admitted, smiling. I couldn’t believe anyone could think of my father that way, but it was nice to hear how genuine Mister Richards was.
James.
Even just thinking about calling him that was embarrassing, he’d been Mister Richards the whole time I was growing up. I could remember him picking me up from school every once in a while, or going to my birthdays because my dad treated him like family.
It was almost embarrassing how attractive I found him now.
We kept going, his eyes on my hands, and by the end of the lesson I found myself sad to go.
Chapter Three
I forgot to put that umbrella in my car.
I forgot, like a damned food, and now there I was.
Wearing a pale blue thin shirt.
Sitting in my car.
Staring down the raging storm outside.
I didn’t have the forethought to ask my father for Mister Richards’s number. Even if I had it, I don’t think I could bring myself to call it to ask if he could come out with an umbrella. It would be beyond embarrassing to have to admit that I was too much of a fool to remember the storms that happened every single summer.
I didn’t have any excuse to forget, except that I was usually in class during the storms so I wasn’t used to having to pack for them.
Taking a deep breath, reminding myself that I couldn’t be late to my lesson, I grabbed the handle of my door and prepared myself for the dash I was about to undertake. Mister Richards’s face came to mind, and suddenly I felt the strength to go.
Pulling open my car door, I jumped out and slammed it behind me.
My sandals, thankfully, stuck to my feet as I ran.
Who needed a driveway this damn long? Who needed this much land between where people could park, and their front door. I ran up the stairs, and escaped onto the porch. Immediately the chill of being soaked and out of the rain set in. Thunder rolled behind me, like it was angry I got off so easily, and I quickly tapped the doorbell.
I was soaked through and through, looking down I realized my bra was absolutely visible through my shirt. Oh god, at least he used aprons so I could cover myself. I didn’t need him thinking I was throwing myself at him.
The door opened, and his face went from a smile to a look of concern.
“Kaylie, oh god, come in,” he said, pulling the door open further.
“Thank you,” I said, rushing in past him and shivering against the air conditioning. Usually the summers were so hot, so of course he had it running, but I was shivering like it was the middle of winter in a colder state.
“Sorry about this,” I was embarrassed, pulling my shirt away from my chest so that my bra wasn’t as visible. “I should dry off in a couple minutes,” I explained, my teeth were almost chattering from the chill.
“Here, we need to get you out of those,” he said, leading me to the stairs. I followed obediently, surprised by him.
The stairs seemed endless, and I caught myself checking out his ass ahead of me. Usually chefs and bakers were softer, letting the food take control of their physical appearance.
There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat of him.
Mister Richards was beyond fit, his dark jeans hugged to his thighs and ass, and I had to look away to keep myself from saying anything. I never felt like this about a man, I felt like a dog chasing a treat. It was mortifying.
He stepped into a room, and I followed him.
It was his bedroom.
I knew that he was just going to offer me a way to dry off, but it felt almost too intimate to be alone with him in his room. I stood near the door and watched as he opened a drawer, pulling out a couple things, and grabbed a towel as well.
“Here,” he said, handing me what he was holding. “Go ahead and get changed and dry off,” he explained. “Sorry- if I knew you were here I would have come out with an umbrella,” he explained.
“No, no you’re fine, I’m just dumb and forgot to bring one,” I explained, I could feel how bright red my face was turning. I watched his eyes slid down to my chest for a moment, and my heart beat so quickly I almost felt like he could see it through my shirt.
A clap of thunder rung out and Mister Richards seemed to realize where he was looking.
“Sorry, I’ll go so you can change, I’ll see you down there,” he said, looking away as he left. Was he really checking me out? I watched as he closed the door behind himself as he stepped out. I couldn’t fight the smile that crossed my lips.
Stripping out of my clothing, I had to peel off my underwear as well. I’d been soaked all the way through by the rain and there was no saving them either. The clothing he left me was a plain dark grey tee shirt, and a pair of shorts that had a drawstring on them. Both of them were too large for me, so I had to roll the waistline of the shorts so that the dr
awstring wouldn’t have to hang all the way down to my knees.
It made them a little short, showing off my legs, but if the look he gave me was any indication, he wouldn’t mind it.
I sighed to calm my nerves, and toweled off my hair to dry it. It was unwieldy at this length, just below the middle of my back, and I had been trying to convince myself for years to cut it. I liked it, though, because it was the bright red of my mother’s hair. It wasn’t a common hair color, and I loved the looks it got. It was mostly dry, though tangled, and I decided that was good enough.
I bundled up my wet clothing and headed downstairs.
He was in the kitchen, making something on the stove that smelled amazing and sweet.
“Here, Kaylie,” he handed me a mug and I was surprised to see it was hot chocolate. “You seemed cold, so I thought it wouldn’t be too strange for summer,” he laughed, pouring himself a mug as well.
“You didn’t have to,” I said, touched by the gesture.
“I wanted to, there’s no need for you to catch a cold,” he explained.
“Well thank you, Mister Richards,” I said, taking a sip.
“It’s James,” he reminded me. I nodded, still unable to call him by his first name.
Oh my god the hot chocolate was delicious.
It tasted like a mix of dark and milk chocolate, with a little mint, and warmed me from my mouth to my stomach. It was comforting and perfect against the storm outside.
Once we settled in, getting back to the lesson, I couldn’t help but focus more on everything he did and said. Something about him just drew my eyes and mind. I couldn’t complain about that.
“Now, just mix this enough so that it combines, if we overmix it’ll be tough and hard to chew,” he explained, watching as I started. I mixed it a few times, and then showed him and he shook his head.
“No, here,” he said, stepping behind me. One of his hands was on mine on the spoon, the other was on the bowl. “Don’t overmix, but also don’t be shy with it,” he explained. He showed me how thoroughly to mix the dough, and my skin sizzled at the contact.
