Maid to Order (Man Maid Book 4)

by Rebecca Avery

  “Yes, you are… anyone willing to give up their life to defend their country is a hero. You agreed to that kind of sacrifice, if necessary, the minute you decided to be a soldier. Because you did so voluntarily, I’m not forced to and instead I get to make yummy desserts all day. Now you can be my personal champion by saving my behind from a bunch of high school kids who are counting on me to provide cupcakes that they will sell during the festival. Their portion of the proceeds will help cover their band trip this fall. Please, Rusty,” she finished in a husky whisper. She simply had to stop saying his name like that.

  “What part of the advice I gave you earlier about using people’s first names did you not understand, Ms. Carlton?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose knowing that he was already on the verge of losing this battle. A good strategist could smell defeat and right now it had the aroma of cupcakes, cookies and whatever other sweets she made at her bakery. Damn it… more distractions.

  “I’m sorry… Sir,” she said and then giggled.

  Against his better judgment, but fortunately not within her eyesight or anyone else’s for that matter, he felt a grin spread across his mouth and his belly burned low. Attraction. He could only shake his head at the truly shitty timing of it all. In another time and place… he’d show her what happened to those who disobeyed his authority or, God forbid, mocked him.

  Before he could try once more to deny the clever little minx she suddenly yelled, “Grudge, No! Hang on, Rusty.”

  Yet again with calling him Rusty! Then he heard the phone thump down onto a hard surface and he could hear her saying no and telling her dog that it was time to go outside. A few moments later he heard a door close. He waited for several moments for her to come back and pick up the phone but it never happened. Standing in the middle of the dining room, he watched first one, then two minutes tick by on the clock before it dawned on him that she’d set the phone down and went outside with the dog. He put his fist to his forehead and silently prayed for patience.

  The thought of hanging up on her briefly crossed his mind but he also knew he was too invested in this now. Plus some sick part of him felt like he’d be letting her win… letting her behavior go unanswered for… by just hanging up on her. Better to let her come back and feel horrible for having yet again infringed upon his time and then not even giving him the dignity of her complete consideration. She would be ashamed for making him wait once she remembered he was on the phone.

  After another few minutes passed he was really irritated. Just when he’d begun to wonder if she even remembered she had been talking to him on the phone and was about to hang up, he heard the door close on the other end of the connection and then the sounds of her fumbling with the phone.

  “I’m so sorry, Rusty. He’s on a roll at the moment. I think he’s mad at me for being gone so much today,” she said breathlessly. Breathlessly saying his name was even worse than the husky tone.

  “Ms. Carlton, did you just take your dog outside and leave food cooking in your apartment?” he asked, wiping his hand down his face in frustration.

  “Oh shit!” she said. Again he heard her set the phone down followed by a pan being moved around and then she picked up the phone again. “You got me there. I actually thought for a second that I did leave food cooking but I didn’t.”

  “That’s a relief since you cook for a living,” he said sarcastically.

  “I bake for a living… I’m a baker, Rusty… Sir,” she replied with another giggle. Then in an attempt cover up the fact that she was still using his first name or to butter him up, she said, “And after all that I imagine you can tell just how much I need your help. So can you be my hero for the weekend?”

  He had a hero for her… right here in his pants.

  Why was he finding it so hard to tell her no? And why the hell was he sporting an erection just from talking to her? What was so difficult about telling her to piss off and that he wasn’t interested? For whatever reason, he was interested… not in working in her bakery but in meeting her.

  He was probably setting himself up for serious disappointment again and would more than likely end up disappointing her in return. However, he had to get her off the phone one way or the other and since she obviously wouldn’t take no for an answer, he was stuck potentially making a promise he might not be able to keep.

  “Fine… what time on Friday?” he asked with a sigh.

  “Oh, thank you, Rusty!” she said, the excitement in her voice making it sound more like a squeal. Then upon hearing his frustrated sigh from the fact that she was completely ignoring that he’d asked her… repeatedly… not to call him by his first name she said, “This is so great of you, Sergeant… Sir. I’ll even throw in some cupcakes for you.”

  “I don’t want any damn cupcakes… I just want to go to bed,” he replied.

  “Okay and sorry if I woke you up. The festival starts at noon on Friday but I can make the first delivery since it won’t get real busy until the afternoon and evening time anyway so I shouldn’t need you until maybe around two or three in the afternoon. Does that work?” she asked.

  “I’ll be there,” he replied.

  “You’re the best! Good night, Rusty,” she said. “Sleep tight, Sir.”

  Then she hung up and he was left with the realization that she was saying his name on purpose. She’d manipulated the crap out of him and gotten exactly what she wanted. The real problem now was did he carry out his plans for the evening regardless or keep his word to a woman who talked baby talk to a fucking dog. Seriously though… he thought that was just shit that happened in chick flicks.

  Eying the notebook setting next to his sidearm on the table as well as the blankets he’d placed under the chair, he knew his window of opportunity had already passed him by. At least for tonight. Walking back, he took the notebook and his personal papers and placed them in the top right hand drawer of the small china hutch that set behind the dining room table. Then he folded up the blanket and put it back in the closet in the bathroom. He picked up the gun off the table and headed to his room where he placed it in the drawer of his nightstand.

  After getting ready for bed, he lay down and waited for the memories of his time in Iraq or Afghanistan to filter through his mind or thoughts about all the ways he’d failed in his life. Instead his mind replayed his conversation with Ms. Carlton over and over again. The next thing he knew he rolled over only to realize it was light outside.

  He’d slept. All night. Without waking up in a sweat or so lost in his own memories that he couldn’t breathe and then having to roam the halls of his own home trying to pull his shit together. Perhaps the emotional events of the previous evening had simply worn him out physically. Or maybe it was because for the first time in a long time, he had something of his own to look forward to. Arguing with Ms. Carlton.

  He loved his brothers in arms and their families just as much as he loved Lauren, but watching their enjoyment wasn’t the same as actually experiencing happiness himself. Arguing with Ms. Carlton had been strangely satisfying.

  She’d given as well as she’d received and rather than snapping to attention, saluting him and respecting his authority, she argued with him, ignored his commands and addressed him as though his name was some form of sexual gratification for her.

  Unlike most people, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to push her around or intimidate her into doing his bidding. The idea brought a smile to his face and he found himself in the kitchen making a cup of coffee before making his bed or even showering.

  He might secretly like her antics and attempts to be in charge, but she didn’t know that. Nor did she need to know that. Eventually she’d come around to his way of thinking just like everyone else and realize that it was best to let him be in charge. He was good at being in charge and he would enjoy teaching her that concept. He had twenty three years of experience at it.

  Chapter Three

  Amy had the best friend a girl could ever hope for and a mother who bo
rdered on sainthood. When she’d shown up at the shop on Friday morning, both of them had pulled in right behind her. Her mother assured her that she would only be staying to help for a couple of hours and could handle that little bit of stress. Renee just said that she couldn’t miss out on all the AmyCakes madness or it might haunt her for life.

  Having made a list of the items she wanted to make for the day, Amy wondered if she would be able to get even half of the list accomplished before it was time to make the first delivery up to the festival. The best way to find that out was to get started. So she began by whipping up a batch of carrot cupcakes while her mother worked on a batch of red velvet ones. Renee deemed herself the dish washing queen and took to cleaning all the items Amy and her mother dirtied.

  After making icing for both flavors of cupcakes while Amy created two different kinds of dessert bars, her mother finally gathered up her things to leave. Renee wiped her hands and went to hug Diane goodbye and then went right back to washing up dishes. Amy realized after washing her hands that she’d somehow managed to get some of the dessert bar batter on her face as her hair now stuck to her cheek in one spot. She washed her hands and approached her mother who only smiled, shook her head and then held her arms out.

  “Thanks, Mom. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, hugging her mother briefly.

  “I don’t either,” Diane replied with a laugh.

  Once her mother left she again glanced at the clock on the wall and grimaced at how quickly the time was running out. She should be packing up the van with the tables and decorations for the booth so she could head up town and get everything set up and still have time to get back to load up the cupcakes and baked goods. It was almost noon and though she knew there wouldn’t be that many people visiting the festival at noon on a Friday, she didn’t want to disappoint the students who would be up there waiting on her.

  Amy followed Renee through the pastel pink double doors into the shop with a tray of desserts and cupcakes to stock the display cases with. Setting her tray on top of the display case, she walked over and unlocked the front door and then walked over to the counter where customers placed their orders.

  Grabbing a marker and some paper she’d laid there earlier, she leaned against the counter and began writing out the flavors for the day that she would then hang from the permanent price signs displaying on the back wall. Renee began situating the desserts from the tray into the display cases.

  Upon hearing the door to the shop open, Renee suddenly straightened from where she’d been reaching into one of the cases. With just a touch of a Boston accent while looking past Amy to the doorway she said quietly, “How you doin’?”

  Then she glanced at Amy and wiggled her eyebrows to indicate she liked what she saw. Turning around, Amy was stunned at the man who stepped through the doorway. He was of average height, not more than three or four inches taller than her but built like a tank, solid and compact, with muscles she couldn’t help but appreciate.

  He wasn’t as big as Ian Hamilton by any means but he carried himself with an authority that made her want to stand up a little straighter and at the same time also left her a little nervous… and tingly… around her neck and shoulders. Was she blushing?

  The man looked like he didn’t even have a neck because his shoulder muscles blended in with them. His arms and upper chest filled out the army green t-shirt he wore with not an inch of material to spare. The jeans he wore housed equally solid legs though they were more of a relaxed fit.

  Forcing her eyes back up to his face she noticed that he had reddish-blonde hair that was a little more red than blonde, a strong jaw with a slight indent in the chin that was lightly coated in reddish blonde stubble and full but firm looking lips. When her eyes met his, she was blessed with a soft blue color that a woman could get lost in.

  Oh yeah, how you doin’ was right.

  Before she knew it, he was heading right toward her with a stride that spoke of determination and power. She actually took a step back, primarily because he was so… intimidating… and hot! He was a little much to take when she hadn’t even had a full cup of coffee yet. She felt like an idiot standing there just staring at him but at the same time she couldn’t seem to get it together enough to even speak.

  “Are you Ms. Carlton?” he asked.

  Rusty Hawkins.

  She recognized his voice immediately… deep and precise.

  “It’s not even noon yet. What are you doing here already, Rusty?” she finally managed to blurt out. His eyes turned to blue laser beams of intensity as they stared at her and she watched his hands find his hips while he continued advancing on her and a frustrated sigh escaped his beautiful mouth. “Sir…” she tried to redeem herself.

  Definitely military… like Ian.

  It was there in his walk, his posture and the command he had over the entire room at the moment. He stopped less than a foot away from her and his eyes nearly glowed with his disapproval. She desperately wanted to take a step back but pride or stubbornness kept her from doing so. Instead she stared at him for several moments just taking him in… she could actually feel some invisible vibe coming off of him that stroked her skin like a gentle breeze making a tremor race up her backbone.

  Holy crap he was fine! She wouldn’t actually salute him but her body sure was.

  “After your display of reckless indifference the other night while on the phone, I felt inclined to come a little early today and attempt to save you from yourself,” he said.

  His lips were fantastic… even when frowning… and he smelled equally yummy. The enticing cologne he was wearing made her want to step in closer and smell him like a freshly baked batch of cookies.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, ignoring his attempts to chastise her further as he’d done on the phone. “I’ve got everything under control… for the most part.”

  Reaching up, he gently pulled the few strands of the hair that had managed to glue itself to her face away from her skin. His light touch sent a streak of molten goodness down her face and neck to settle in her upper chest.

  Watching her expression for a moment he then placed the pad of his thumb in his mouth, sucked on it for a moment, then pulled it out and wiped it across her cheek, attempting to remove what she could only guess was dessert bar batter left behind from where it had adhered her hair to her skin. The sigh escaped before she even knew it was there waiting to be released. Apparently guys like this existed in real life too… not just in the movies.

  Then the significance of his actions smacked Amy right across the face. What was she? Five? He wasn’t a parent needing to remove a smudge of dirt from the face of a recalcitrant child. And she certainly wasn’t a kid.

  A small shot of anger followed the same path the intense reaction to his touch had taken just moments before. He was looking at her with a mixture of disapproval and… intrigue… so she wasn’t real sure how to respond to such a personal contact. Especially one she could feel everywhere at the same time.

  Behind her Amy could hear Renee scrambling to make herself scarce. Knowing she needed to stop this before true humiliation took hold, Amy decided to make it blaringly clear that touching her wasn’t okay… especially not in the current context.

  Watching his face for a reaction she slowly let her head roll back on her shoulders and released a very… grown up… sounding moan. His hand jerked away from her cheek as though she’d just burst into flames. He stepped away from her and looked down at the ground as though he wasn’t sure where he even was anymore. Shame swept across his strong features for a brief moment.

  “Did you get it all, Sir?” she asked breathlessly.

  She should be ashamed of herself for blatantly flirting and toying with him like she was. Stopping herself was impossible since she still wanted to prove a point that she was no mere child… but a grown woman worthy of his respect… in that regard.

  His head snapped back up and his stare again assaulted her senses for a moment b
efore he cleared his throat. Then, as though taking her bold contemplation as a challenge of some form, he again put the same thumb back in his mouth and sucked off whatever batter was left on it while holding her gaze.

  Then he glanced at his thumb and back to her and said, “What is that?”

  “Peanut butter brownie batter I would imagine… do you like it?” she asked demurely.

  Again she wanted to back away from him when he stepped back up as close as possible, leaning over her as though to frighten and bully.

  “No… I don’t think it’s peanut butter… it’s more like a woman who is about to bite off a whole lot more than she can chew,” he said with just a hint of anger in his voice… and something else she couldn’t place.

  Swallowing loud enough that she knew he could hear it too, she looked away from his intensity. That wasn’t exactly the response she’d been looking for… perhaps her seduction skills were less than stellar… it wasn’t like she used them often… if ever. Perhaps she should stick with baking rather than flirting.

  Unwilling to give up quite so easily she instead whispered, “Promise… Sir?”

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see his fist tighten and then release and then clench again. He was attempting to control himself and some sick part of her wanted to push her luck. Maybe she was five… no, she was definitely an adult… and most definitely a woman.

  Forcing herself to meet his gaze once more she slowly turned her back on him maintaining eye contact for as long as possible. When she again faced the counter she picked up the marker she’d been using to write with. Bending forward, she felt the minute his gaze landed on her butt and forced the smile that wanted to break forth back into submission.

  “Since you’re here… you could start loading the tables and booth decorations into the van out back. Renee can show you,” she said.

  It was all she could do to keep from giggling hysterically. The tension between them was remarkable. She’d never experienced anything like it before… she could actually feel it physically. He was just so… serious and intense that she was quite enjoying messing with him.