“She does?” I ask, having no idea.
I’m glad Sara offered to deal with all of the legal jargon for my business. I should probably look at getting a business manager to handle the ancillary things that aren’t a part of Sara’s job, but she seems to enjoy doing it.
“Yes, she does,” Sara chimes in. “Anyway, what we have here are two of the contracts I think you should consider. The first is to work with Elver’s Catering. They are based out of New York and you would be supplying them your recipes to have local affiliates provide the desserts at their events. This would bring you on the national level. The second contract is to work with Beckley’s Baked Goods to provide your recipes along the mid-Atlantic region at coffee shops and convenience stores across the area. Neither contract is exclusive, and we have the ability to hire out on our own. These are both great opportunities.” Her excitement is palpable as she goes over the fine details, the need to find a larger kitchen, packaging, all these things I never envisioned in my future.
“Sara, I’m not sure if I’m ready for that leap. It’s just me and I just like to bake.”
“I know, I know. I don’t want you overwhelmed. I think you have the potential to become the next Little Debbie. You’re that good.”
“You have all of this amazing faith in me. I wish that I had it in myself.” I notice another paper off to the side and slide it into my line of sight. “What’s this one?”
“This is the contract I drew up to turn your business into your own baking LLC. Your desserts are amazing but your cakes, Elle? They’re masterpieces in their own right. If none of these options work for you, I want you to consider expanding here. Just some food for thought. Oh, and you may have a large order of éclairs and muffins for a corporate event downtown tomorrow. Pick up is at 4:30 a.m.,” she adds and ducks her head under her arms as she awaits an act of violence.
“4:30? Goodness, Sara, how many do they need?”
I watch as she opens her phone and grimaces before telling me that they need eight hundred – of each. I’m seriously reconsidering having her as my partner.
Stepping out of my seat, I rush inside the kitchen and take inventory in my pantry of all my baked goods, most of which I am seriously lacking.
“Sara, you’re on kid duty. I have to go raid all the grocery stores!” I shout from behind the glass of the sliding doors and she waves me off.
I grab my purse and exit the house quickly, stopping only to find Jackson and Cooper both shirtless as they install a camera facing the entrance to my house and the driveway.
“Wow, you guys are doing great,” I say, stunned at the progress that they’ve been making.
Jackson steps down from the bench on the porch he was using as a step stool and looks me over with heated eyes. I haven’t changed my clothes, but he’s looking at me as if I’m wearing the sexiest piece of lingerie. Finally, his eyes rest on my keys dangling from my fingers.
“Where are you headed to?”
“I just had a large order come in, and I’m low on some supplies, so I’m heading to the store.”
“Do you want some company?”
As much as I want to take him with me, just to have some time together, I know that if he’s in my presence, I’ll forget something essential, like flour or eggs.
“I wish I could, but I think I’ll be quicker if I’m alone. I’ll be back soon. Sara is watching the kids.”
“Will I see you later?” he asks with a hint of hope and I know that I’ll be neck deep in baking quicksand for the day.
“I’m not sure. Maybe?” I rise on my toes and press a quick kiss to his lips, just a peck, but I know he wishes that it was more. I can feel it in the way his lips linger. He’s not alone, I wish that it was more too.
My trip to the store is not nearly as quick as I wish. I end up having to travel to four different grocery chains in the area just to the find the baking flour that I like.
But finally I’m home and throwing all of the items on the large island, sorting everything out for which items I’m preparing, when I notice a note on the counter. It’s got Jackson’s scrawl pressed onto the white sheet of paper, and he’s telling me that he got an emergency call from Hunter and had to go take care of some things with their business. It’s vague, and normally I would be reading into it more, but with the timeline I have, I don’t have the time or patience to get lost in thought. Sixteen hundred items aren’t going to bake themselves.
Sara stays most of the day, and I’m grateful that she loves my kids as much as I do. I’ve always wondered why she never married or wanted a family, but she always insists that her career comes first.
I finish baking the last set of muffins and I’m just about to start the éclairs, when the doorbell rings. The new tablet perched on my counter is connected to the security system and I can see that a man is standing at my door carrying a few bags.
I didn’t order anything.
“Hello?” I say as I open the door a smidge and the young teenage boy smiles showing off a full set of braces.
“Hi, I have a delivery for Miss Knight, courtesy of Jackson Divers.” He holds out a bag that smells like Chinese food. In his other hand, he holds an array of wildflowers.
“What’s all this?” I ask myself, but the delivery boy must hear me.
“Seems like you have an admirer. I need to try this on the girl at school I've been wanting to ask out. But she’s not nearly as pretty as you,” the boy says, his voice squeaking.
I take the bags and the flowers from him and turn to find Sara ushering the kids inside with a surprised look on her face.
“The neighbor?” she asks, and I bashfully smile. She already knows the answer to that question if her saucy grin is any indication. “So what did Romeo send us?”
“Chinese,” I whisper, and Sara’s already knowing grin widens two-fold.
“Ah, and does someone know that my best friend’s favorite food is Chinese?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Stop reading into things,” I say as I try to steer the conversation away from myself and Jackson.
Noah and Kennedy are already digging through the containers to find noodles and low-and-behold there is a container of lo-mein sitting at the bottom. It seems like Jackson ordered everything on the menu, most likely not sure what we would like. It’s a good thing that I can save most of these items because we’ll be eating like kings for days.
“So, can we talk about. . .” Sara begins, but I cut her off with a firm, “No.”
“What about. . .”
“No. We are not talking about relationships, or lack thereof, or neighbors. None of it. I just want to take a moment to eat this delicious meal with my kids and best friend. Okay?”
“Fine,” she huffs as she stuffs an eggroll into her mouth.
I listen as Noah describes the adventure he and Kennedy went on today. Pirates sailing on the open seas that come across an evil octopus. Noah tells us how he was able to slay the beast and save the pirate Kennedy.
Those two and their imaginations…
Dinner is quick and soon Sara is leaving so I can get the kids bathed and ready for bed. She helped me throw the first batch of éclairs into the oven, but now as I walk into the kitchen after tucking the kids into bed, the sense of feeling overwhelmed threatens to choke me.
A few hours pass until I stuff the last éclair full of filing and place the tray in my fridge.
The clock reads 1:00 a.m. and I have yet to notice Jackson pull up to his house. I have a clear view of the road from my kitchen through the living room.
I had hoped to see him again tonight, my addiction to him growing stronger every night. While I’ve been baking, I’ve thought about his request to make things more serious, and while I’m still on the fence, I’ve been leaning farther on the side of being something more.
Cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, I think about how my life is changing, and it's almost as if it’s leaving me behind. I’m not ready for everything to change, or at least I
don’t think that I am. Maybe I need to begin embracing the change, embracing the opportunities before me. Not just with Jackson, but with these catering gigs as well. There is potential to make myself known countrywide. And if I take these chances will we stay here? What if Dan fights me then and it all blows up in my face?
These are the thoughts plaguing me as I undress and slide my body into bed. I'm saved from further self-interrogations because sleep captures me quickly and takes a firm hold, drawing me into the abyss.
I feel a soft brush against my waist, just the lightest of caresses on my skin and a tingling across the area where my shorts touch my hips. I try to pull myself free from my sleepy haze, to bring myself into the moment, but it’s as if I’m being held captive by my mind.
The mysterious hand skirts past the waistband of my shorts and delves underneath my panties before sinking between my legs. I can feel the moan building as the deft fingers trail against my slick folds. That moan escapes between my lips as I feel the tender touch slide into my sex. I’m lost in the sensations taking place that I don’t notice the buzzing on my nightstand.
Suddenly my eyelids peel back in panic, the feeling of my own touch long forgotten.
Whew, that was close.
The delivery pick up will be here in about five minutes, and I was too lost in my dream to hear the alarm for the past ten minutes. I fumble around the room and tug on a pair of jean shorts and a loose T-shirt, not needing to impress the delivery driver.
I tiptoe to the kitchen even though my kids sleep like the dead. Pulling out my signature boxes from the pantry, I get to work piling the baked goods inside. I get about halfway before I hear a knock on the door.
“Crap,” I murmur as I lick some of the chocolate left by the éclairs from my fingers and move toward the door.
I’m surprised to find a man in a business suit at my door; a very attractive man in a three-piece suit with perfectly styled hair.
“Hi,” I say in surprise to find him at my door.
“Hello, I’m Mark Cambridge, CEO of Hawk Associates. I believe you have some items for me to pick up?”
I stare at him in shock, not just because I didn’t expect someone of his caliber to pick up the items, but because he’s just so darn good looking.
Finally, I break myself from my stupor and invite him inside after greeting him like a professional.
“Sorry, I’m just finishing up packaging them.”
“My apologies for the late notice. Our assistant was in charge of the order, but it seems she didn’t place it before she left the company.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I do well under pressure,” I say, and bite my lip at my inferred meaning.
Mark offers to help me pack the last few muffins and I watch him from the corner of my eye and wonder why I don’t have the same reaction to him that I do to Jackson. He’s obviously gorgeous, probably one of the most attractive and self-assured men I’ve ever met, but I don’t feel that instant spark that I had with Jackson.
“May I ask where you heard of me? Er, my desserts and baked items?” I ask as we carry a load of boxes to his large SUV.
“My mother brought home one of your pies from a fundraiser a few months back and it was delicious. My girlfriend and I have been trying to find it again since.”
Girlfriend. Maybe that explains why there is no spark.
“Well, I have a website for online ordering, so feel free to order as many pies as you would like,” I joke as we continue to carry boxes from the house to his car.
It takes a few more trips but finally we fill the back of his car with about forty boxes holding all of the baked items. At the door, he hands me a check for the amount plus an additional fee that he insists on paying for the short notice.
Just as he’s about to leave he turns around and runs a hand through his dark wavy hair.
“I’m not sure if this is up your alley or not, but my girlfriend, well fiancée, would be thrilled if you were the person to create our wedding cake.”
Excitement begins to crackle and explode like fireworks inside me.
“I haven’t done a wedding cake in a long time, but I think we could come up with something. When is the wedding?”
“Not for a few more months. Maybe Victoria and I can come by to taste a few things and come up with something?”
At the mention of his fiancée, I can see his face light up and then I remember the reason I loved making wedding cakes when I first started out. Dan and my relationship had jaded me for the sacrament of marriage.
“Oh absolutely!” I exclaim. “Hold on, let me grab you a business card,” I say as I step back into the house and dig through the kitchen for my set of business cards that Sara had printed up for me. Finding them, I grab one and then make my way back to Mark. “Here you go. Just send me a text or email when you have free time. I can be available whenever you need.”
“Victoria is going to be so thrilled. Thank you,” he says as he wraps his muscled arms around me and hugs me close.
He pulls away and then steps through the doorway with a massive smile on his face. Just as he climbs into his car, I watch as Jackson parks on the street. I wave at him, but he doesn’t return my gesture. Instead, I can see his snarl even from this distance.
Mark backs out of the driveway and pulls away, the grin still on his face. Jackson remains in his car, so I step back into my house with plans to get caught up on a few orders for tomorrow.
It takes a bit longer than I expect but I hear a knock on my sliding glass doors after about ten minutes. He doesn’t wait for me to open the door. Instead, he slides it open and steps through. He’s lucky I was of the mind to unlock it for him when I stepped back into the kitchen.
I’ve laid out my order sheets but the counter is empty. I start piling the flour and eggs on top, watching Jackson from the corner of my eye as he seethes against the door. The silence becomes too much for me and I finally look in his direction after I pull out the last mixing bowl.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at him but he continues to frown and my confusion takes over. I try to think back to why he would be angry at me. “Jackson?”
“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with a way to get you to agree to take whatever we’re doing to the next level. It literally keeps me up all day and night. And then I see another man stepping out of your house in the early morning, and it makes complete sense.”
“What-” I begin, but he cuts me off with his hand in the air.
“I at least expected exclusivity, Elle. If you were sleeping with other men, you should have told me.”
And then his assumption sinks in and I gasp in horror. How could he accuse me of sleeping around, of being with anyone else while I am with him?
I am both irate and heartbroken. Even through the trials of divorce, I have never been accused of being anything other than an honest woman.
“Get out,” I say in a low voice almost startling myself. Jackson’s demeanor changes at my tone and his mouth hangs open in surprise. He quickly recovers and strokes his hand through his hair then takes note of the invoice and check from Mark resting on the counter closest to him.
“What’s this?” he asks as he lifts it up and his eyes widen at the amount just like mine had minutes ago. He reads over the invoice as I begin to crack eggs into the mixing bowl, ignoring the way my body tightens as he pins his gaze in my direction. I can hear the soft rustle as the papers fall back onto the counter as I pour a few cups of flour into the mixture. I measure out the sugar as he takes heavy steps toward me and rests his body against mine, his chest to my back. His arms rest on either side of me and his forehead lies on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson says, and I can hear how much it pains him to admit it. I know enough of Jackson to know that he rarely apologizes for anything, but he also is rarely wrong.
I set the measuring cup and bag of sugar back down on the counter and turn in his arms, forcing him to raise his head. His eyes are sad and heavy, but not
from lack of sleep, though I’m sure that the lack of shut-eye is attributing to his demeanor. I’m not sure why, but I have the strongest desire to wrap my arms around him, so I do. Jackson immediately responds by wrapping one arm around my waist and the other rests along my shoulder as his hand cradles my head against him.
We don’t speak, words aren’t needed. I hear the rest of his apology and he hears my words of distrust at his assumption. It’s strange, having a silent conversation with someone and knowing that they hear and understand everything you’re saying, that they’re actually listening. I never had that with Dan, and whoever made Jackson this cautious about relationships deserves to have lost him.
After a few minutes, Jackson pulls back from me and looks down at me with his hands cradling the sides of my face.
“Go out with me,” he commands, and the look in his eyes is hypnotizing.
“Like a date?” I ask.
“Yes, like a date. I can get my parents to watch the kids for you. Please.”
I had planned on saying yes but hearing the please from his lips has me agreeing instantly.
“When?”
“Friday. I know that Noah starts school this week and you’ll want to be with him.”
Well just melt my heart why don’t you?
“Friday. Okay.”
Jackson presses a delicious kiss to my lips to seal the deal and I’m practically begging for more as he pulls back.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. Hunter was rushed to the emergency room and I needed to square things away and then get him taken care of.”
I haven’t met his cousin yet, but the mention of something happening to him makes my heart drop.
“What happened?”
The anxiety around Jackson is almost tangible as he takes a deep breath and describes what happened. Hunter had been mowing on a steep grade and the riding mower had flipped over, pinning him underneath the machine. The property owner had seen what happened and called the local fire and rescue to help and Hunter was rushed to the emergency room. Luckily he only needed a few stitches and some antibiotics for a few burns. Jackson was left to finish the other projects scheduled for the day then he went to check on his cousin.
Stolen Nights (The Stolen Series Book 1) Page 14
