by Anna Argent
He laughed. "That works, too." He spied the brown paper sack dangling from her fist. "What did you bring me?"
"Chicken salad sandwich."
"Mmm. Sounds great. I'm starving. Let me go wash my hands. I'll be right back."
"There's no water," she reminded him.
"There is now," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the public restroom in the back corner near the kitchen entrance. "I fixed the leak and turned it back on. The crew is going to need a bathroom if we're going to be working here all day."
A crew. Working all day.
Gemma hadn't heard anything that wonderful in a long, long time.
The sound of water splashing filtered out through the open door.
She looked around for a safe place to set out his food. The only area not haunted by dust was a small spot on the counter in the kitchen she'd cleaned off yesterday. She pushed through the swinging door into the space where all of the baking magic happened.
Even now, at twenty-six, she still felt a kind of awe whenever she entered this space, almost like it was sacred. As a child, this was where Aunt Beth transmuted mundane things like flour, sugar and butter into wondrous culinary delights that brought a smile to every mouth that tasted them. She and her aunt would rise well before dawn, slip inside these walls and weave spells that gave off the scent of vanilla and strawberries. They'd mix and stir and knead until the first tinkling of the bell told them they had a customer.
Aunt Beth would bustle out, wiping her hands on her apron as she greeted each guest with a smile and a warm muffin or hot cup of coffee. Children were slipped free miniature cookies, and the neighbors with pets at home were often gifted with bone-shaped, pet-friendly snacks to take with them.
The bakery was a world where everyone was glad to visit, and no one left empty-handed. The work was often hard, but the rewards were plentiful.
It was no wonder Aunt Beth couldn't stand to let people down by closing the doors for good. The world needed more places like this one, with the bounty of its sweet magic overflowing its doors and spilling out into the surrounding community.
Gemma had laid out Saxon's lunch by the time he found her in the kitchen.
"You're not eating?" he asked.
"I ate with Aunt Beth. She has lunch early so the strains of physical therapy don't upset her stomach."
"It's good that she's sticking with it," he said.
"I'm not giving her any other choice. Neither is Mr. Cyrus. He shows up early every day just in case he has to talk her into going—at least that's what he said. I kinda think he might have a crush on Aunt Beth."
Saxon grinned. "That old, sly dog. They'd be good together."
Gemma wrinkled her nose. "I stay out of Aunt Beth's love life. It's just too weird to think about her dating."
He took a big bite out of the sandwich and groaned. When he finished chewing, he said, "Dark sorcery. That's the only explanation as to how you can make something as simple as chicken salad taste like this."
She gave him her best maniacal laugh. "I sacrifice virgin chickens under the full moon before I roast them, but now that you know my secret, I'll have to kill you."
"Just let me finish the sandwich first, okay? Then I can die a happy man."
While he was eating, she turned on the commercial ovens to start heating. Then she went to each appliance, plugged it in, tested it, then unplugged it again. All the mixers worked perfectly. The ovens seemed to be functional was well. Everything else was either manual, or a common small appliance, like the food processor. If that went haywire, she could easily replace it with something in town.
Saxon had just finished washing down his lunch with a bottle of water when the first oven beeped, indicating it had reached the temperature she'd set.
She leaned close to the glass to check the secondary thermometer Aunt Beth kept inside. "It's hot."
"It sure is," Saxon said, though his tone told her he wasn't talking about the oven.
She turned to see him staring at her ass, his handsome face warmed by a sultry smile.
Gemma felt her face heat, though she couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment that he'd been staring, or pleasure that he liked what he saw.
He picked up one of the cookies she'd packed for him. "Want one?"
She shook her head. "I've been taste testing sweets all morning. I'm already on sugar overload."
"I'd sign up to be your official taster any day of the week. I may gain a hundred pounds, but it would be worth it." He took an enthusiastic bite out of the cookie as if to prove his point. He closed his eyes in enjoyment.
Gemma accepted his wordless praise and turned off the ovens, satisfied that everything was in working order. No water had shorted out the equipment, no mice had chewed through wires. As soon as the repairs were done, the building was thoroughly cleaned, and supplies were stocked, she'd be ready to get to work.
"I think we're good here," she said. "I'm going to run a couple of errands, then I'll be back this afternoon to work on disinfecting everything."
Saxon shook his head. "It's too soon for that. We're going to be kicking up a lot of dust. You should wait until it all settles before you start cleaning, or you'll have to do it again."
She wanted to ask how long it would take for him to finish, but it seemed ungrateful and pushy. The man was doing her and Aunt Beth a huge favor by putting this job in front of his other work. She didn't want to repay him by nagging.
"I'd like to help however I can. I may not know how to rebuild a roof, but I can follow instructions—fetch tools, hold lights…whatever you need."
He grimaced, then set down the rest of his cookie. "First, while I appreciate your offer, it's not safe for you to be here while we're working. My men are used to being around people who know their way around a construction site. I'd hate for you to get hurt and not be able to help Aunt Beth the way I know you want to."
"Surely there's something I can do."
"Bring by some of those cookies to show your appreciation, and the crew will bust their ass for you." He grinned. "The sugar rush doesn't hurt, either."
She could do that. She was already going to be busy baking for Flora's diner and hopefully the café, too. A couple more batches of cookies or an extra pie was no trouble at all.
"What was the other thing?" she asked. He's said first, as if there was more.
That grimace he'd displayed a second ago returned. "I didn't want to say anything within earshot of your aunt, but that damage to the roof wasn't accidental."
She understood his words, but they made no sense. "What?"
"Someone took an ax to the roof."
She stood in stunned silence for a moment, digesting his statement. "What would someone be doing up there with an ax? Was there a tree branch up there?"
"No, I mean they intentionally chopped their way through the waterproofing, all the way to the wooden structure and insulation. Whoever did it didn't stop until they'd made it through all the layers and could see inside the ceiling. It would have taken a lot of effort."
Someone chopped a hole in the bakery? On purpose? "But why?"
Saxon shrugged, his wide shoulders pulling his shirt tight. "I have no idea. I had the sheriff take a look, and his best guess was that it was some meth heads hopped up on drugs."
"Wouldn't someone have seen them?"
He shook his head. "It's a flat roof with a ledge all the way around. It's not easy to see up there unless you're in the second story of a neighboring building. They're all businesses, so if it was after hours, no one would have been around."
Gemma couldn't get her head around it. "What possible reason would there be to chop a hole in the roof?"
"No sane one, that's for sure. It's not like anyone has a beef with sweet Aunt Beth. Everyone loves her."
The initial shock of hearing this news finally started to fade. "I don't want her to know about this."
"There's going to be a police report. The insurance company will need that if th
ey're going to pay the claim."
"I'll talk to them. Aunt Beth uses a local agent. I'm sure he'll work with me directly and leave her out of the loop."
"There will probably be paperwork for her to sign."
"That's fine. She never reads the fine print when it's from someone she trusts. I'll make sure to read it myself so she won't have to."
"Are you sure you don't want her to hear it from you? It's a small town. Once word leaks out about the vandalism, it will be all the coffee council talks about for weeks—how the world is going to hell in a handbasket because of the degradation of morals in our country."
"Then I'll just have to keep Aunt Beth out of Flora's diner and away from the chatty Coffee Council."
Saxon took her hands in his, and until this moment, she hadn't realized that she'd been wringing them, nearly twisting her hands off with anxiety.
"Honey, your aunt is a strong woman. You don't have to protect her from everything."
But she did. Aunt Beth had protected her for years—giving her a place where she was loved and wanted without any sort of expectation. She'd taken Gemma from the cold, gray world of her intellectual parents and painted everything in vivid colors. Sure, it had only been for three months out of the year, but that had been enough to sustain her and keep her going.
If not for Aunt Beth, Gemma would never have survived her childhood intact. Her creativity and passion would have been cultivated out of her until she was the same cold, logical creatures her parents were.
"I know what I'm doing," she told Saxon.
His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. "I love that you take care of her, but who's taking care of you?"
"I'm fine."
"You came to my house last night because you were too stressed to sleep. That's not fine."
She almost told him that her visit had been all about bringing him pie, but they both knew that was a lie. "There's a lot on my plate, but I'm dealing with it."
"Are you sure you should be adding another job on top of everything else?"
"What other job?"
"Making desserts for Flora."
He didn't know about her running into Lulu this morning—literally—so he wasn't aware that she was hoping to take on even more work. "It's no big deal."
"And you're cooking for me and Aunt Beth, as well as keeping up her house. I'm sure there are a whole lot of other things you're doing over there as well—things to make sure she's safe and able to live alone in her home when you leave."
Gemma still had several more rooms upstairs to go through for tripping hazards as well as figuring out some kind of plan that would allow Aunt Beth to access the second story of her house and her basement laundry room without risking a fall. An elevator or stair lift, maybe? Heaven knew that she'd never move out of her beloved house—the one her husband had bought for them after they'd married. And there was the situation with the upstairs bathroom and how it was going to be nearly impossible for her to step into the deep tub to shower.
Maybe she could hire Saxon to renovate the tub and turn it into a walk-in shower.
She could almost imagine him all sweaty from his work, holding out his rough hand, asking her if she wanted to test the new shower with him. He'd strip off his shirt to display a wide swath of muscles that made her mouth water. Then he'd let his tool belt drop to the floor, unbutton those snug jeans that did little to hide his manly assets. She'd follow his lead, stripping herself bare so she could feel his skin press against hers as the hot water cascaded over them, slickening their flesh as their mouths met in a fierce, demanding kiss…
"It's too much," he said, drawing her attention back to the present.
She jolted, her body humming from the vivid fantasy she'd painted. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, and a line of sweat had formed along her brow.
Saxon Grace was one hell of a potent package. If she ever got to kiss him for real, she wasn't sure she'd survive it.
"You've put too much on your shoulders. That's why you can't sleep," he said.
Maybe he was right, but what choice did she have? "I'm tough. I'll get it all done."
He stepped closer. The edge of his tool belt grazed her stomach. He slid a finger across her temple, tucking a slippery lock of hair behind her ear.
Gemma shivered, unable to hide her visceral reaction to him.
"Let me take you out," he whispered as he stared at her mouth. "Tomorrow night. Just you and me, out on a proper date."
"I can't go out. What about Aunt Beth?"
"I'm sure Cotton Cyrus would love to take her to dinner."
Could Gemma do that? Could she abandon her aunt for a night to go out with a man who made her heart pound and her skin heat?
"You know Aunt Beth would want you to have some fun," he said as if he'd read her thoughts.
If she worked her ass off and took care of Flora's order as well as all of the samples for the café… "I don't have a lot of spare time, but I could swing a couple of hours."
"I'll take whatever you have to offer."
Chapter Seventeen
A few hours weren't nearly enough to do to Gemma all of the things Saxon had fantasized about, but it was a start.
For now, he would be satisfied to have her close, smelling the sweet scent of her skin and seeing in the way her light brown eyes darkened whenever he touched her.
The baby blue sundress she wore flowed over her curves, giving her a feminine, almost ethereal look. Her long, tan legs ended in a pair of strappy leather sandals that led his mind to a naughty place filled with a fantasy of her as a slave girl, eager to serve his every need.
The longer he was near her, the more needs he had, and the more he had, the less he was able to form a coherent thought.
He slid his finger behind her ear again, even though the hair he'd tucked there a moment ago was still in place. He simply couldn't not touch her—not when she was within reach, looking up at him with dark eyes that openly displayed just how much of an effect he had on her.
Her slender body shivered at his touch, and that alone was enough to make Saxon's head swell. Both of them.
His tool belt hid his erection as he backed her against the counter and pressed his body to hers.
He couldn't wait any longer. He had to kiss her.
Saxon cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
Cherries and buttercream. Sugar and sin. Sweet lust and shimmering hope. Those were the things he tasted on her lips.
He had meant to keep the kiss light—signify his intentions without scaring her off or making her think he was a player. He wanted her. There was no question in his mind at all that if he had the chance, he'd fuck her—hard and fast, slow and steady and everything in between. He'd take her every way she let him and still be ready to do it all again.
But when his lips touched hers and the tip of her hot tongue traced the lower curve of his smile, all of his plans to play it cool vanished.
Heat swept through him in a mad rush. His blood thrummed through his veins so hard he could feel each beat of his racing heart. His grip on her slipped south, tightening until she was trapped inside his hard embrace, unable to get away.
An unsteady whimper of need escaped her mouth, and it was that sound—echoing his own desperate desire—that was his undoing.
A low, deep rumble raced through his core as his foundation shifted, making a place for her. The things he'd heard others talk about—the fireworks, the knowing—he finally got it.
He knew.
Gemma was his. His other half. His missing piece. She always had been, he simply hadn't realized it until this very moment.
All that was left to do now was convince her of the truth.
Men fall fast and hard, was what his grandad always said. It takes women some time, but men fall fast.
Saxon now knew what his grandad meant.
The feeling was both profound and humbling, and so damn exciting he wanted to pick her up and whirl her around.
He got as far as lifting her sweet ass onto the counter, putting her mouth at the perfect height for him to devour.
Her hands slipped around his body, clenching tight in his shirt as she struggled to pull him even closer. A frantic kind of fever swept through them, leaving them both panting for oxygen, but too hungry to release the other's mouth.
He shoved her sundress high on her thighs and pushed them wide enough that his body fit between them.
Gemma groaned and wrapped her long, tan legs around him to pull him that much closer.
Behind her, the brown paper sack she'd brought his lunch in crinkled. Outside, someone's car door closed with a thud. The world moved on, but inside this tight, heated embrace, the world came to a skidding halt and only the two of them existed.
Saxon licked along the inside of her lip, enjoying in the sugar-sweet taste of her. Her lip gloss was slick between their mouths, easing the friction of their desperation.
His cock pounded at his fly for release, each beat of his heart another resounding thud against his leather tool belt.
He needed to be inside her—his cock, his tongue, his fingers. He didn't care which was first so long as all of him got to experience everything she had to offer.
A small object hit him in the cheek, and it was only then that he realized that his hands were tight fists around the top of her sundress, pulling the halves open so hard that a button popped off.
He was going to strip her naked and fuck her on the counter, right here, right now.
And as far as he could tell, she was all for it.
"Whoa," came a rough male voice from behind him. "Sorry, boss."
Saxon pulled back just enough to lift his head and see his crew standing in the kitchen doorway. Two of the younger men were grinning, but his foreman had the good manners to be genuinely embarrassed.
"We'll, uh, be outside." He grabbed the two gawkers by their arms and dragged them out of sight.
Gemma buried her face against his neck. Her breath came out in hot, fast waves across his skin. Her body trembled slightly, or maybe that was all him. At this point, he really couldn't tell.
She'd rocked his world, and there were no signs that it was going to stop swaying any time soon.
