by G. , Whitney
My mouth fell open.
“Wait.” Carlton stood to his feet. “After thinking about it, I have a feeling some high-schoolers may be behind this, so let me make a phone call. This whole thing may be their big prank for the year.” He headed toward the door without another word, and I shook my head at Nathan.
“You know,” he said, returning the envelope to his pocket, “I think I’m far more offended at the fact that you’re out with a guy like this than the fact that you stood me up.”
“I stood you up because you deserved it.” I couldn’t believe this shit. “You also sent me a ticket for a busted tail light yesterday.”
“I told you that you had a week to get it fixed.” He smiled. “Then again, I can easily make that go away if you agree to give me the make-up dates I deserve.”
“Dates, as in plural?”
“I believe I’m owed at least four at this point.” He paused. “Unless you do want me to post your list in tomorrow’s paper, that is.”
“You wouldn’t dare ...”
“I wonder how Sifted Perfection’s customers would feel knowing that the owner wants to get fucked against the same kitchen counters where she makes all of her pastries,” he said. “I also wonder if the daycares and schools you have under contract would be okay knowing that their favorite baker spends more time thinking about getting her pussy eaten than crafting new recipes.”
“That last part is only your assumption.”
“I’m willing to bet it’s not.”
“You honestly think that you can blackmail me into going out with you?” I crossed my arms. “You can’t, and just so you know, what you did by stealing from the tradition-worthy contest tree is pretty unforgivable in this town. To be honest, I’m pretty tempted to pull out my phone and call—”
“The police?” He smirked. “I’ll wait.”
I stalled, my cheeks redder than they’d ever been. “You shouldn’t have to blackmail someone to get them to go out with you.”
“Is it really blackmail, if the person knows damn well that she’s interested in going out with me?”
I said nothing as he moved his chair a bit closer to mine, as I leaned even closer to him.
The two of us stared at each other for several seconds, until I finally shattered the silence.
“I’m not sure how to feel about the town’s deputy cop being a criminal mastermind.”
“If you’re trying to change the subject, it’s not working,” he said, smiling. “I’m not kidding about posting these in the paper, and since I just saved you from one hell of a disaster date, I think you should be far more willing to agree to the dates with me.”
“This date was going amazing until you showed up.”
“Is that so?” His lips brushed against mine, and my nipples hardened. “Be honest.”
I couldn’t think straight with him so close, and a part of me wanted him to kiss me right here and now.
“I thought so,” he said, looking toward the window where Carlton was now pacing the sidewalk as he talked on the phone. “From the looks of things, I doubt he’s capable of giving you any of the things you’ve written on your wish list.” He returned his gaze to me, looking at my lips. “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow night.”
“I have a catering function until nine.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“Ten thirty,” I said. “You should ask for my address.”
“You circled it when you sent back the words ‘FUCK YOU’ on your tail light ticket this morning.” He smiled. “Speaking of which, how exactly would you like me to do that?”
“I wouldn’t.” I bit my lip. “It wasn’t meant to be taken literally.”
“Tell me you haven’t had one thought about me fucking you since our first date and I’ll believe that.”
I couldn’t bring myself to lie.
“That’s what I thought.” He smiled and stood to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten thirty.”
CINNAMON “SEDUCE ME” STREUSEL
2 tablespoons butter or margarine
2 tablespoons brown sugar
¼ cup whole wheat flour
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
CHRISTINA
** The next day **
THE BEST TWO PARTS of being a pastry chef were always the same for me year after year. Number one: Having a front seat view and a hand in the creation of a concoction from start to finish. Number two: Seeing the smile on the customer’s face once they devoured it and asked for more.
Unfortunately, the client I was baking for tonight was giving me more scowls than smiles, and she was making my short-handed staff feel as if they were walking on eggshells.
I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this hotel kitchen, and I was sure a night with Nathan would make me forget all about it.
“Can you make these raspberry tarts any sweeter?” The client, my ex-best friend from high school, pursed her lips. “I mean, they’re good, but not as good as the ones from Tinsel Bakery.”
I bit my tongue. Tinsel Bakery didn’t make raspberry tarts, and their baking skills were nowhere near the league of Sifted Perfection.
“I’m also not sure how I feel about these dessert towers,” she said, walking over to the six-foot display of mistletoe-inspired cupcakes. They were in the exact formation that she’d requested—a replica of the Eiffel Tower where her current fiancé (my first serious boyfriend who she stole) took her when he proposed last summer.
“I’m sure they taste amazing, but ...” She frowned. “Can you add some of those pretty brown crumb layers onto them? What are those called?”
“Streusel.” I felt my blood boiling. “If I add those, then the cupcakes won’t be gluten-free, which is specifically what you requested. I’ll also have to make new cupcakes as the streusel has to be baked directly onto them. I’ve made plenty of other sweets with a streusel that I’m sure your guests will enjoy.”
“Well, isn’t there such a thing as gluten-free streusel?” She gave me her best ‘I’m going to make this night a living hell for you’ smile. “Can’t you just whip some up? You are standing in a state of the art kitchen, after all.”
“We only brought alternative flour for the things on your original invoice.”
“Well, I suggest you go get some more from your little bakery, huh?” She picked up a cupcake and took a bite. “The customer is always right, after all.”
I stood still, glaring at her, resisting the urge to pick up something sharp. She’d booked this job under a different name, knowing damn well that I would’ve refused to bake anything for her and my cheating ex-boyfriend. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d invited most of Cedar Falls’ elite and some of my best clients to her over the top holiday party, I would’ve bailed hours ago.
“My fiancé also wants to add two dozen strawberry soufflés, since we plan on holing up in a pretty nice suite for the rest of the week.” She held out her gaudy diamond ring and stared at it. “You can have that done by ten, right?”
I said nothing.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, stepping back. “By the way, thank you and your staff so much for doing away with the silly chef uniforms and complying with the black dresses and skirts like I asked. It makes you all look more elegant, I think.”
I waited for her to get the hell out of the kitchen and looked up at the clock.
Nine o’clock ...
There was no way I could make all of those adjustments in time to go out with Nathan at ten thirty. I ordered one of the junior chefs to get to work on the additional soufflé order, sent out my newest hire to get the gluten-free flour, and then I took off my apron and walked outside.
Leaning against the bricks, I sighed as snowflakes fell over me. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Nathan’s name, grateful that he’d insisted on us exchanging numbers.
I let out a breath and hit call.
It rang once. It rang twice.
“Hello?” he answere
d, his voice deep. “Hello?”
I hesitated before answering, caught off guard by how sexy his voice was. “Hi.”
He let out a low laugh. “Hi. Is your event over early or something?”
“No, um ...” I let my words rush out in a ramble. “I need to reschedule our date. I know you’re going to think I’m doing this on purpose, but I promise I’m not. I’m really stressed about my current event at The Cedar Lodge—more stressed than I normally am about these things, and there’s no way I’ll be done in time to go out with you so thanks for understanding.” I ended the call and turned off my phone, so he couldn’t call me back.
Returning to the kitchen, I prepped the counters for the batch of cupcakes I was best known for, cupcakes that were completely unworthy of being made for this bullshit event.
Double honey fudge “BFF” cupcakes.
“Sarah? Lori?” I called out once I finished mixing the batter. “Can you two handle fixing these up for me? I need to be alone for a few minutes.”
“Of course, Miss Ryan.” “Absolutely.”
I walked to the other side of the kitchen, right into the oversized pantry and shut the door.
I sent my sister a long series of “WTF” text messages, knowing she wouldn’t see them until later tonight, but it didn’t calm me in the slightest.
You can finish this event, Christina. You can finish this.
Several minutes later, the door to the pantry opened, and I held back a groan.
“Give me a few more minutes, guys,” I said. “I’ll check on everything in fifteen.”
The door opened a bit wider, and Nathan stepped inside.
“You didn’t give me a chance to respond to what you said over the phone.” He shut the door.
“I didn’t think there was anything for you to say.”
“I beg to differ.” He stepped closer, looking sexier than ever in a white T-shirt and dark jeans. “What exactly are you stressed about?”
“A certain police officer stalking me.”
“I was down the street,” he said, looking genuine. “I was planning to ask a follow-up question over the phone, but you hung up in my face.” He leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, instantly setting all of my nerves on fire. “Between you doing that, abandoning me on the first date, standing me up for the second, and now rescheduling, I’m starting to think this attraction is one-sided.”
“That may be true.”
“I doubt it.” He tilted my chin up with his fingertips. “Tell me why you’re stressed.”
“This event is for my ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend who are together now,” I said. “They booked it under a different company name and made all their requests via email, so I was blind-sided the second I got here.” I paused, unsure of why my heart was beating like it was about to jump out of my chest. “They’ve been rude as hell to me since this started, and I know they’re doing it on purpose. Only half of my staff is here today, since the rest are starting their holiday vacations, and I’m a full hour behind the serving schedule. I’m never behind schedule.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” I sighed.
“What else?”
“I have another party tomorrow night—the Cedar Falls Festival, and my staff will be even shorter.” I shook my head. “Not to mention the fact that I’ll need to prep a few things here for that party if I want to make up for the lost hour.”
“So, that’s it?”
“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “That is it. Are you about to tell me to breathe, and that everything is going to be just fine?”
“No.” He smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” He pressed his lips against mine, catching me off guard with a long, passionate kiss. A kiss that made me forget every other kiss that came before it.
I couldn’t focus on anything work-related anymore, just the feel of his tongue slowly sliding against mine. The feel of his hands running up and down my sides.
Shutting my eyes, I moaned as he pinned me against the wall with his hips, as he gently bit down on my bottom lip.
“Shhh...” He slid his hand under my dress, pausing when he felt my stockings. He let out a low laugh against my mouth, and then I heard the sound of them tearing. Before I could react, he slipped his hand under the thin band of my lace panties and ripped them off.
I opened my eyes when his lips briefly left mine, catching sight of him stuffing the panties into his back pocket.
Breathless, I tried to speak, but he covered my mouth with his again, kissing me even harder than before and making me lose my train of thought.
Whispering words I couldn’t understand, he pressed his hand against my stomach and slowly slid it lower.
“Ahhhh....” I moaned as his thumb pressed against my soaking wet clit, as he began rubbing it in a slow and tortuous rhythm. “Fuck...”
He silenced me with another bite of my bottom lip, and I looked into his eyes as he slipped a finger deep inside of me.
“Wait...” I managed. “Wait...”
“For?” he asked, adding a second finger, making me cry out in pleasure. “Wait for what?”
I couldn’t answer if I tried.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he moved his fingers in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, using his other hand to caress my breasts.
“No ...” I breathed, feeling his cock harden against my thigh. “No...”
“Good.” He continued kissing the hell out of me, taming my tongue with his, preventing me from interrupting our kiss with words again.
I could only moan in pleasure, could only accept everything he was giving me without question.
My legs began shaking as he put more pressure against my clit, as his fingers deftly worked deeper inside of me.
Before I could tell him that I was about to come, I cried out—muffling my screams into his shoulder.
He held me steady for what felt like forever, not letting me go until my breathing returned to normal.
When he was sure, he stepped back and looked at the hole he’d ripped in my leggings. Instead of apologizing, he ripped them all the way off my body and smiled.
Then he tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. “Are you still thinking about your ex-best friend, your ex-boyfriend, and being one hour behind?”
“No ...”
“Good.” He smiled and pressed another kiss on my lips. “Call me if you need me to come and help you forget all over again.”
HALF AN HOUR PAST MIDNIGHT, I handed my ex-bestie the final receipt for services rendered without a single word, sent a “Thank you all so much!” email to my staff, and packed up my supplies.
The moment I placed the last box onto my passenger seat and slid behind the wheel, I felt my eyelids drooping.
Determined to make it home, I managed to drive three blocks before pulling to the side of the road.
I pulled out my phone and called Amy.
No answer. She sent me two texts instead.
Amy: Sorry! Working late tonight! Looking forward to you telling me the whole story over breakfast tomorrow! (Can you make me some chocolate “I love my sister” pancakes?)
Amy: Wait...Did you and the officer have sex when you got off tonight? Did he go down on you??!!! (TELL MEEEEE)
I was too exhausted to laugh. I scrolled down to my best employee’s name and shook my head. She’d already worked twenty hours overtime this week and asking her to help me get home might result in two weeks’ notice.
I scrolled down to Nathan’s name, staring at it for a few seconds before calling.
“Yes?” he answered on the first ring. “Are you feeling stressed again?”
“No, the party just ended.”
“How’d it go?”
“It went well.”
“As talkative as you are, surely you can elaborate a bit better than that.”
I smiled and leaned against my window, telling him
about everything I’d made and how the guests responded. I was in the middle of explaining my cinnamon tarts when I realized I was talking to him as if he was one of my closest friends.
He asked me a few more questions, sounding like he was intrigued, and I almost forgot why I called him in the first place.
“Are you heading home now?” he asked.
“No, I um ...” I sighed. “I know this may be a bit much to ask, but I was calling to see if you could drive me home. I don’t think I’ll be able to drive thirty minutes without falling asleep at the wheel, and I’d rather leave my car here overnight than risk that.”
“Hmmm.”
“If not, I understand. Just thought I’d ask before hailing a cab or taking a few trolleys.”
“Where are you?”
“At the corner of Main and Sixth.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and turned up the heat, trying my best to keep my eyes open.
Minutes later, I heard a light tapping against my window. When I looked over, I saw that it wasn’t Nathan standing outside. It was a female police officer.
Confused, I rolled down my window. “Yes, Officer?”
“I’m Officer Harlow.” She smiled. “I’m supposed to drive your car to your home address, so leave the keys in the ignition and step out, please.”
Too tired to ask any questions, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped outside. I looked behind my car and saw Nathan walking toward me.
“Thank you, Officer Harlow,” he said to her, slipping his arm around my waist. He muttered something that sounded like, “Sexy as hell,” and my knees went weak at the thought of him kissing me again.
He led me to his car, opening the passenger door.
“Wait,” I said. “I want to warn you that my sarcasm doesn’t work as well when I’m tired. I also wanted to say thank you, again.”
