by K. K. Allen
Maggie’s shaking around me as I push into her one last time. I can feel the hot streams of my fluids filling her while she’s still convulsing around me. I swipe her hair from her shoulder and turn her cheek to look at me over her shoulder. And then I slam my mouth to hers to swallow her final moans.
“I might need to change the dress code so you can wear this smock every day.” I grin into her mouth while she laughs.
“I don’t think your students would appreciate you mauling your assistant.”
“True, but—” I twist my face and narrow my eyes at hers at the word assistant. “I don’t think I like that title for you anymore. How does brand manager sound instead?”
I didn’t just come up with that title on a whim. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, but I wanted to finish production before we started talking big business decisions.
She pulls back slightly, surprise registering on her face. “Really? Or is that the sex talking?”
I chuckle. “If it was the sex talking, your title would be much different.” Then I turn her around so I can face her full on. “Maggie, you practically run this place now while simultaneously cohosting the show. You even scored me a publishing deal for that cookbook idea you had.”
“Well,” she says slowly. “I kind of used Faye’s connections for that one.”
“Which was the smart thing to do.” I don’t know why she always needs to give the credit away for her hard work. “Most people would have been scared shitless approaching Faye about something like that. You’ve got business smarts, Maggie. And I need that in a manager.”
She grins and places her hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know, Desmond. This is a big step. Next thing you know you’re going to be asking me to move in with you.”
I glare at her again. She hasn’t spent a single night in her studio since the night after we got back from Dallas. We’ve been using the studio for food photograph shoots. “Smart ass.” Then I touch my nose to hers. “Say yes to the promotion, Maggie.”
She tilts her head, her smile softening, and then she rests her forehead on mine. “Yes, Desmond. I accept the promotion. I guess that means you’re stuck with me.”
I nod before grazing my lips against hers. “Fine with me. There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”
Maggie, six months later
Golden Gardens Park is packed like it is on any sunny day—hot or cold. Families are picnicking on the beach, fisherman are trying their luck on the pier, hikers are steadily making their way through the forest trails, dogs are running without restraint of their leashes, and boats are being launched on Puget Sound and gathering near the shore.
I am currently setting up the last of the decorations at our reserved campsite to celebrate the launch of Desmond’s new cookbook. Not only is his book filled with never-before-seen live action photos, but it’s packed with all the scratch cooking and farm-to-table tips Desmond would normally give in his classes.
Monica, who has been helping me decorate before everyone arrives, just plopped down at one of the picnic benches and is flipping through one of the bridal magazines that practically lives in her purse. She’s obsessed with finding the perfect everything for her wedding. A wedding she’s only just now started to plan. Between art school and Zach’s football schedule, they didn’t want to rush anything, so taking the past year to enjoy their engagement before adding in the wedding stress was something they agreed to.
“I’m thinking a spring wedding, what do you think?” Monica flips to another page and studies it like she’s done all the others. “I can do all the planning while he’s in season, and then we’ll have all that time to be together as newlyweds during the off-season.” She snaps her head to me and her eyes brighten. “Newlyweds. Can you believe it, Mags?”
I smile and rest my shoulder against hers. “I can, and I’m so excited to help you plan, but today we’re focused on Desmond’s book launch remember?” I close her magazine and almost feel guilty for the pout-face she makes.
“Fine.” She sighs and stuffs her magazine back in her bag. “But you promised to come to the wedding expo with me next Saturday. Will Desmond be cool with that?”
“Yup,” I say, standing from the bench. “The new assistant is trained and ready. Thank goodness.”
Monica laughs. “You sure gave up your old job fast.”
I bite back my own knowing smile. “Hey, I played assistant for an entire year before I finally handed over the reins.” Even after my promotion, I wasn’t ready to let go of my kitchen duties, but then it all became too much. “I think Raegan will do great. She’s young. She’s passionate about the culinary arts, and she’s into chicks.”
My comment earns me pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Like you have anything to worry about with Desmond. He’s crazy about you, and you know it.”
“I know, I know. But this way I don’t have to worry about her heart getting broken, walking out, and leaving me to train someone new. No thank you. I love the work I’m doing now. Between the show getting picked up for a second season, all the work I’ve done for Desmond’s book, and the events we’ve been scheduling like crazy, I don’t have the time to assist during classes. Besides, I think that’s a great job for someone who wants to advance their craft, and while I enjoy the whole art of cooking now, it’s not what I want to do all day, every day.”
“I understand, Mags. You don’t have to explain to me. I was just teasing. I’m proud of you.”
My chest swells with pride. “Thanks, M. I’m proud of you, too. Three more quarters of school, and then you’re done. What are you planning to do after graduation?”
Monica shrugs, her permanent smile brighter than ever. “I’m not making any drastic plans. I’ll help out the production department at BelleCurve until I can’t anymore. I’m actually enjoying the side jobs I’ve been getting with personal shopping and custom designing, so I might try to build a brand around that. I’m keeping my options open.”
“Well, keep designing clothes for the show and I’m sure word will get out about your talents.”
Monica’s eyes go wide. “You mean you’re hiring me for season two?”
I laugh at her genuine surprise. “Of course I am. You think I’ll let Faye choose a stylist for me? Not a chance.” I stand and wait for her to join me, just as a few cars pull into the lot. “Oh, they’re starting to arrive.”
Our dad and his wife pull up at the same time as Zach, Gavin, and a newly pregnant Chloe. Soon enough, more guests start to arrive—students from Desmond’s classes, some of the production crew who live locally, Faye, some of the BelleCurve staff, a bunch of Seattle football players. Soon enough there are nearly sixty guests on the beach, playing volleyball, mingling near the fire, and snacking on appetizers. And then Desmond finally arrives.
He pulls up in his red ’58 Ford Fairlane convertible that I’ve started to call “mine,” as a joke, and I meet him at the curb. He knew I was throwing him a release party, but I didn’t tell him just how much effort I’d put into it. He was probably expecting a dozen people or less, but I couldn’t let this opportunity go by without celebrating him properly.
“Um, Mags,” he says, stepping out of his car and shutting the door behind him. His eyes are on the beachfront, but he’s walking toward me. “What did you do?”
I wrap an arm around him and grin up at his puzzled expression. “I’m throwing you the huge, outlandish party you said you didn’t want.”
He looks down at me with a playful glare. “Of course, you did. You said it was going to be a small, intimate gathering.”
“Everyone is so proud of you, and we want to celebrate.” I tug on his shirt a little, batting my eyes up at him, knowing I’ll need to do quick damage control in the form of a lot of flirtation. “Humor us. Come join your party.” I lift up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips.
He kisses me back with a little growl and a squeeze of my waist. “Fine. You win.”
“Like always.”
He chuckles. “Is that right? I think I have a game I know I can win tonight if you want to try your luck.”
My body heats with his words, and I can feel a blush creeping up my neck and blasting my cheeks. Desmond hasn’t changed much when it comes to sex. If anything, he’s only become more intense now that he knows exactly what makes me react. “C’mon,” I say, tugging on his hand and trying to focus on the task at hand. “If you’re nervous, you should try the punch first.”
“Why, did you spike it?”
“Yup.”
He throws his head back in a laugh, quickly eliminating any tension he drove up with. While Desmond doesn’t mind a crowd, he’s been somewhat uneasy with all the attention from the show. His classes were already booked before the show started, but now, he’s talking about hiring on a couple more full time instructors to add more classes to the daily schedule.
We join the party, and while there are a lot of people here, it’s still a chill event. Desmond signs books for everyone, poses for some photos, but all-in-all, it’s just an excuse to get together with our friends.
Rebecca and Ryan are back in town too. It’s adorable how supportive they are with Desmond. It took me a long time to understand the dynamic of their relationship—with him and Zach’s mom, and with him and my dad. But I get it now, and I’m so happy they all have each other.
A couple hours and a lot of laughs later, the sun starts to dip in the sky. The chatter is loud, the music is upbeat, and everyone’s had plenty to eat. Well, except for my sister who’s sitting with Zach at the fire roasting marshmallows.
I think Desmond senses the party is ending soon, because he gathers everyone near the picnic tables for a quick thank you.
“I really appreciate you all showing up like this and supporting everything we’re trying to do with the kitchen. Thanks to the cookbook, we’ve already been able to do so much this year with our growth through the hiring of new staff and dipping our toes into some new service offerings.”
Desmond takes my hand in his and squeezes. “But none of that could have been possible without this woman right here. The cookbook was her idea. She formatted the thing, pitched the book to publishers, and negotiated the deal like she’s been doing this kind of thing all her life. Which is why—” he starts with a grin aimed right at me— “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
My jaw drops. “For me?”
He nods and pulls something out of his pocket, then holds it out to me in a fist. My thoughts immediately start to think he’s proposing and I can feel my heart crashing around like a pinball in my chest. And then I realize there’s no ring box, and I laugh a little at my ridiculous thoughts. There’s no question marriage is in our future. We’ve teased the subject multiple times, but we’re both in agreement that we’re happy with where we’re at for right now.
I hold out my hand to let him drop whatever it is. He releases his grip and a silver key into my hand. A key I recognize before I’ve even made the entire thing out. I gasp and my head feels light from the shock.
“Now that you have your driver’s license, I figure you’ll need a car. And well—” Desmond looks up at my dad and winks. “Since this one was always supposed to be yours in the first place, I think it’s about time we made that happen.”
The crowd cheers loudly and tears start to blur my vision. I don’t even have words right away. Then Desmond leans down and places his mouth to my ear. “You already have a key to my condo, to my kitchen, and to my heart but this one belongs to you and you alone. It has always belonged to you, Mags.” He presses a kiss to my check and stands up so I can look at him.
What I ever did to deserve such a smart, giving, and talented man, I have no idea, but I’m never letting him go.
“I love you so much. You didn’t have to do this.”
He grins. “I know. But since I did, why don’t you take her out for a spin?”
My dad steps forward and wraps me in a hug. “I’d love to go with you, if that’s alright.”
I swipe away at the tears that are falling and nod before laughing at how emotional I’m getting over such a generous and thoughtful gesture. “Yes, of course.” I look up at Desmond who’s smiling down at me. “Are you coming too?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m going to stay here and mingle.” He leans down and kisses my cheek then points at my father. “You’re in charge old man, bring her back in one piece.”
We all laugh as I search the crowd for my sister. “Where’s Monica?”
Just then, she bursts through a small group of guests and runs toward us. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
My dad and I laugh as she catches up to us. Then he loops his arms around both our shoulders as we walk toward my new car.
I start the engine, and my heart flips in my chest at the beautiful sound. When I finally went out to get my license, it was at Desmond’s prodding. He told me I’d need it eventually because walking everywhere was going to start becoming impossible if the kitchen continued to pick up steam the way it was.
Now, I know why he was so insistent. Something tells me this has been his plan for a very long time. Maybe even from the moment I told him the car was promised to me first. I don’t know. And I stopped caring.
Desmond has done so much for me since I met him, besides giving me a home and a job. He’s given me his heart and his encouragement to explore all the things I’m passionate about, whether it’s been in the kitchen or not. And while I haven’t found one single thing that I am obsessed with like he is, I’ve been happier than ever before taking the reins on the business side of things.
I drive around the park, taking Monica and my dad through the numerous parking lots, never actually leaving the grounds. But when we hit a straight away, and I can pick up the speed slightly, I can’t stop the smile from my face. Monica is hollering in the backseat, and my dad appears to be enjoying the ride as he rests against the door.
“You’re a good driver, Mags.”
My dad’s compliment makes me smile. “Thanks, Dad. Desmond’s been teaching me.”
He blows out a breath and then chuckles. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but it was probably a better idea than having me train you. I don’t know how well my nerves would have held up.”
I cruise into the next parking lot, relaxing against the wind blowing in my hair and the radio playing softly from the dash. Monica is singing along while my dad flips through Desmond’s cookbook. My heart startles when I glance over and realize he’s reached the dessert section. He’s looking at a playful photo of me in a black bra, a chef’s hat, and my tongue between my teeth as I appear to be preparing to eat a donut.
“Um, Dad,” I start, but he’s snapping the book shut before I can tell him he should probably stop there. There’s nothing crude about the photos, but the dessert section does get a little—um—sexual.
“Well,” he says stretching out and looking out the window. “I think I’ve seen enough of that.”
Monica howls with laughter and my face heats with embarrassment, but the embarrassment is quickly diminished by Monica uttering her favorite curse word.
“Holy, shiitakes.”
“What is it, M?” I glance at her in the rearview mirror and my eyes go wide at where her reaction is directed.
She snaps her head up to meet the reflection of my eyes. “Didn’t you carve this heart into the back seat when we were kids?”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I sure did. I’ll never forgot how mad Dad got at me. If it weren’t for that heart then I probably would have never known that this was Dad’s old car. Desmond wasn’t going to tell me.”
I watch as Monica twists her lips with amusement as she connects the dots, then her eyes widen and I forget saying anything at all. “What were you doing in the backseat, Mags?”
“Oh my God.” It’s all I can say. I’m humiliated. Why can’t my sister just shut her mouth for once? I cringe as I sneak a look at my dad, but he looks to be just as embarrassed as me.
“I think it’s time to head back.”
When I park the car, Desmond is waiting for us there with his arms ready. He wraps me in a hug. “Why does Coach look like that lobster you refused to boil?”
I look up with a slight laugh. “Let’s just say the poor guy will probably never eat dessert again.”
Desmond’s eyes go wide, making me laugh harder. “Oh, shit.”
I nod and make a cringe face. “Yeah. Oh, shit is right. Guess you should have thought twice about dating the coach’s daughter.”
He narrows his lids and cups my chin in his hands. “Wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, Maggie Stevens. You’re still the biggest pain in my rear, but you also happen to be the love of my life, so—” he flashes me a grin. “You kind of have to take the bad with the good, if you know what I mean.”
I bite down on my lip and stretch onto my tiptoes so I can reach his lips. “Oh, I know what you mean, Desmond Blake. And I wouldn’t change a thing either.”
Before you, life came in bursts of muted colors.
Everything changed when you somehow slipped under my skin—and then stole my heart.
Layer by layer, you stripped me bare, leaving foreign skin beneath lost feathers. You blinded me with your light. And with streams exposing my every weakness, I became yours.
Your words lit a match against my soul, and the flames licked through me like an inferno. Thick. Heated. Wild. Infuriating.
Still, I was afraid.
I learned at a young age what can be seen through the lens is often a skewed version of reality. A bent perspective. Manufactured, therefore losing all sense of authenticity.
But you showed me there was nothing to fear.
I wasn’t just the woman through the lens, the lie, like I believed myself to be.
I was your muse.
Turns out, you were mine too.
Thank you so much for reading! Stay tuned for updates on my secret project. More info COMING SOON! Until then you can can check out the rest of the books in the BelleCurve series:
