by Roxy Wynn
I texted Alex back.
Me: Hey, I got caught up in a late shoot and didn’t get a chance to get back to the building. I should be able to get out in the next couple of days.
Alex: Don’t wait too long, Jax. The owner’s sons are really champing at the bit to dump this building. I don’t think they have any idea about the gold mine they’re sitting on.
Me: Alright. I’ll let you know as soon as I get out there.
Shit.
I tossed my phone onto the coffee table and sank into my couch. So I can either buy this building that I have been dreaming about for the past year, or I can see where things go with this mystery bakery owner.
Those two ideas tugged at my heart.
On one hand, the building was my dream business. I could have passive income from condo purchases while Alex ran the brewpub. It would mean that I could start working on some really good indie movies. Maybe even something Oscar worthy.
On the other hand… Chrissy.
After fucking anything that moved for many years, I didn’t think I could feel excitement again.I thought for sure the butterfly stage was a thing of the past, but then there she was stirring them up. And with that gorgeous fucking smile and baking abilities, mom would have adopted her on the spot.
I pulled up the Ruby’s website on my phone and looked at the picture of her and Sarah, both smiling in their matching navy blue jumpsuits and red bandanas. They were so cute, and so happy. How could I take that away from them?
Ignoring Alex was a rookie move, but buying a few more days to think about things couldn’t hurt too much. Who knows, maybe Chrissy would turn out to be just as vapid and vain as every other woman I’ve been with for the past decade. In that case, the decision would be easy peasy.
Or maybe I should just buy both Chrissy and I one-way tickets to Bora Bora and never speak about any of this mess again.
Chapter Fifteen
Chrissy
Seeing Jeff’s house for the first time was a total mind fuck. Not only was it nestled in the middle of the jungle, but the giant, wrought-iron fence topped with barbed wire gave it an evil lair feeling. The kudzu covered every inch of it, making it impossible to see the house from the street. If I didn’t know he was a celebrity, I would assume he was in the mob. Or Batman. Either of those two options.
I wonder if he has to deal with people showing up to his property all the time trying to get pictures? Would there be people here tonight taking pictures? Perched in trees with wide-angle lenses?
I sincerely hoped not.
After going back and forth over what to wear, Sarah helped me pick out a cute outfit that was both comfortable and fashionable. The dress was a vintage fifties style, lapel casual dress. It clung to my top half and flared at the waist. June Cleaver, eat your heart out! Not only was the material soft and forgiving, but it also made my tits look great. Everyone was a winner.
To finish the ensemble was my favorite pair of converse. They were the same red high tops I wore every day. Sarah fought me on them. She argued that I needed heels or something strappy and sexy. I explained that if I would be baking, comfy shoes were non-negotiable. She rolled her eyes at me, but eventually gave up.
As much as I love fun fashion looks on others, most of the time I found dressing myself a huge hassle. Dropping pants sizes was great, but it still didn’t help when I had these boobs to deal with. Shopping for new clothes was an exercise in futility. More often than not, I left stores empty handed. This dress was the only thing I in my closet that fit my hourglass figure like a glove. I felt confident and sexy.
He had texted me the gate code earlier in the morning, so I could get my beat-up Corolla in without too much hassle. Once inside the gate, I followed the long drive back to his giant house before parking to the right of his equally beat-up pickup. If I didn’t know any better, I would assume I was on an ancient plantation. Only Jeff’s house was brand new and totally free of a deplorable history. I hoped.
When he answered the door, he looked good enough to eat. He was clean shaven with his sandy blonde hair combed back. A stark contrast to the Brawny paper towel mascot look he seemed to be channeling the first time we met. His shirt, a black button down, wasn’t tucked into the tight jeans he wore, instead it hung loose. All of this was too perfect, like a cologne ad in a magazine.
“Mr Jaxon, every time I see you, you look like a completely different person. Do you have alternate personalities for each of these looks?” I asked, walking into his immense home.
“Of course. The bearded guy is Ralph. The vampire? He’s Drake.”
“Makes sense.”
“And this guy? This is Jeff.”
“Ah, the real Jeff… so we meet at last,” smiling at him again, I put my hand to shake. I should have seen his next move a mile away. The moment he took my hand, instead of shaking it, he once again kissed the back of it sending an electric shock wave over my flesh. When I remembered we were alone for the first time, my skin flushed pink.
“This is quite the house,” I said, taking in the entryway. I had to do something to break the sexual tension before I lost the battle and jumped him. The fact that I hadn’t had sex in months danced through my thoughts. How could I be this aroused already?
I tried getting my mind out of the gutter by commenting on how beautiful his house was. If I was an architectural connoisseur, no doubt I would be impressed. “This place should be on a magazine.”
“It was,” he said. Following my eyes, we looked up at the exposed steel beams.
“Of course it was.” He led me by hand down the hallway and into his kitchen. To say I fell in love for the second time in less than five minutes would be an understatement. Hidden away in a Mont Clare mansion is the most beautiful home kitchen I had ever laid eyes on. “Is that a Viking range?” I squealed with excitement.
“Yup, gas range, electric stove.” He turned and showed me the butcher block counter top, and a brand new Vitamix blender, when a rack of vintage cook books caught my eye.
“Ooh! Can I dig through these? I know it’s rude to go to someone’s house and poke around into their personal stuff, but I love old cook books. Besides food, they are my favorite thing ever. I hit up antique malls whenever I can, hunting for treasures. Did you know that canned soups were invented so homemakers could have more time cleaning and tending to their husbands?”
Jesus, I’m rambling.
When I didn’t get a response, I turned my head to find him leaning against the center island, pouring me a glass of wine. He handed it to me before taking a sip of his own. “You can look through them. Take them out, see if you find any recipes you like. Maybe you’ll find some new ideas for Ruby’s. There are a lot of casseroles in those books, but there are just as many jello based nightmares you might find even more interesting.”
“I’m not going to lie, you just got a lot cooler, Jeff.”
“You mean the rich actor thing wasn’t enough?”
“Hell no. Now, men with vintage cook book collections, that’s what really gets my panties in a bunch… I mean, not my panties… more… my heart. My heart in knots.” I stopped. “Wow, I am saying a lot of words.”
I took a giant sip of wine when I realized he was holding back copious amounts of laughter.
“Those cookbooks were my mom’s. She loved cooking almost as much as you do.”
I beamed. “So about this beignet recipe, lay it on me.” He nodded and took a small blue book from the shelf. He thumbed through the pages delicately until he found what he was looking for and placed it into my hands.
I traced the tips of my index finger over the perfect handwriting and tried to picture the woman who had written the words. My mind instantly conjured up June Cleaver, but maybe that’s just because I love her aesthetic so much. The pen was faded in places and there were obvious oil slicks on the page, but the recipe was perfectly preserved. Right down to the last ingredient on the list, love.
“This is so adorable,” I said, looking up at
him. While I inspected the page, he had moved behind me and to my right to read over my shoulder. Or just to get close to me, I wasn’t sure. In fact, he was so close, I realized how amazing he smelled. It was an almost woodsy smell, and very manly.
He took the book from me and placed his hand gently on my face as he whispered in my ear. “Not half as adorable as you.”
Eager to have his hands all over me, I stepped forward until we were almost pressed together. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the tender skin of my neck. The contact made my breath come out hot and rushed.
Normally, in an intimate situation, my head filled with worry and doubt. Do I look sexy right now? Is his hand touching that fat roll under my bra strap? Does he actually like me?
But this time was different. There was just him and me. For all I knew, we were the only two people on earth.
He was so close I could hear the beat of his heart. Taking a chance, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He ran his hands through my hair and kissed me back, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. His lips were gentle at first, but when I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and pressed myself against him, he became more forceful.
Next thing I knew, he was nudging my mouth open with his tongue. Our tongues rolled together, the taste of wine bitter on the tastebuds. I placed my hands on his back and drew him in closer to my body while his hands ran into my short blonde hair and down my back.
I was in heaven, and not just because I hadn’t had sex in ages. For the first time in a long time, I was being kissed by someone who made me feel comfortable and sexy. Is this what it felt like when you found the one?
His body was rigid against my curves and I felt my knees go weak when he pressed something rock hard against my stomach. Jesus, he really was huge. A part of me was concerned that when the time came, I wouldn’t be able to take him. Another part of me wanted him to pull my hair while he fucked nice and slow.
Tracing my fingers across his back, I touched every muscle and bulge, until I found his abs. They were hard, just like every other inch of him.
He had me pressed against the counter top, grinding himself against me. I wanted to wrap my legs around him, but that nagging worry over his size popped up again. From his billboards, and the way he felt against my belly, I had my doubts.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I fumbled with the button of his jeans, and he groaned in my ear. Before I could free him, he swatted my hand away and lifted me onto the counter.
Faintly, I could hear my cell phone buzzing in my bag on the counter. Unless someone was on fire, I was ignoring it. I was on the verge of having amazing sex, and there was no way in hell I was stopping for a phone call.
He ran his hands down the front of my dress and brushed his thumbs over my hardened nipples. The only thing I could think about was getting him inside of me as quickly as possible. I didn’t just want him, I needed him. The beignets could wait.
As he was running his lips across the soft spot just under my ear lobe and exploring the outside of my panties with the tip of his index finger, I heard my phone buzzing again.
“Do you need to get that?” He breathed into my ear.
There was no fucking way I was stopping this.
And then my phone buzzed a third time. It was Sarah’s emergency call. She never called three times unless she was in the weeds and needed my help.
“Excuse me,” I said in my most seductive and sorry voice. “I need to answer this call and murder the person on the other line.”
Rounding the corner, I dialed Sarah’s number. I had to put some space between my body and his before I lost my nerve.
“What?” I said the second she answered.
“We got one!”
“Got one what?”
“Wedding cake. WE GOT A WEDDING CAKE ORDER! The bride needs a fast turn around, which is probably why she’s going with us, but it’s a big one! She’s coming in first thing tomorrow morning to go over her ideas.”
I peeked around the corner at Jeff. His shirt was open all the way and his jeans were bursting at the seams over the bulge trying to get out. I wanted it in my mouth so badly I was practically drooling. The image was straight out of the first five minutes of a porno.
“Oh my god, are you kidding? This is the worst timing.”
“I know,” she said, now almost whispering. “Are you there? Are you making beignets?”
“I was about to make something, all right.”
I knew that the correct thing to do was go home and start sketching. My heart raced, and as the lust cleared from my brain, I realized this cake could be the beginning of really great things.
I took a big breath and turned away from Jeff. “Ok, do you have the details on the wedding? How many people? Colors? Preferred style and all that jazz?”
“Yes. I am so, so sorry, Chrissy. If this were anything else, I would have saved it until tomorrow, but it’s a wedding cake. This is what we’ve been waiting for, and they want to meet early.”
“I know. I hate you and everything about you. But I understand. This is a huge deal.” Jeff looked at me with puppy eyes, realizing I was about to walk out. “Alright, I’m on my way. Have macaroni and cheese waiting. And wine.”
“White or red?” She asked.
“White. I’m not an animal.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jax
“That didn’t sound like a good call.” She walked back around the island with her head hung low. When I tried to touch her, she danced away.
“I’m drinking this alone tonight, aren’t I?” I held up the bottle of Tempranillo I purchased especially for her.
“I am so, so so sorry, Jeff. If this were any other occasion, I would blow it off, but it’s a wedding cake order.” Pain and sexual frustration were written across her face.
We smudged her lipstick, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to grab her and finish the job.
My dick was throbbing in my pants, but I still had a bit of blood left in my brain to understand why it was she needed to go. She has wanted to make wedding cakes forever, and this could be her big break.
“Alright, but I am requesting a rain check.”
“You got it, pal.” She looked at my jeans and winced. We both noticed how snug they were under the pressure of my cock. One quick move and I could have her on that table and be inside her. Fucking her. And she knew it. It was obvious she wanted it just as much as I did. I don’t care how cute she looked in that dress, I would rip it off of her body in an instant if I had my way.
Instead? It’s another cold shower for me.
She placed a hand on my chest then ran it down to my abs, as if trying to talk herself out of leaving. She looked up at me again and bit her lower lip. In one swift motion our mouths were together again. Thirty seconds was all I had to enjoy her body before she would push me away. Her hand trailed down to the front of my pants and gave a squeeze.
“I’m so angry right now.”
“Me too,” I told her while I kissed her cheek good bye.
Me too.
I could still smell her shampoo on my hands after she left me with blue balls. How does she get her hair so shiny and soft? And how the hell does she smell like vanilla all the time? I know she works with the stuff, but does she bathe in it too?
After she left, and I changed into more forgiving pants, I realized that I might have it bad for her. Any other woman would have stayed and slept with me. Any other woman would have given in to the pull of a rich and famous actor. She fact that she was devoted to her work, drove me wild.
My last girlfriend gave up her life to be with me every second of the day. All of her hobbies and friends went out the window the second she thought she had a ticket into Hollywood. She poured her time into Botox, exercising, and shopping, so he could look good being photographed at premiers.
She was sexy, yes, but she had no substance. Nothing under the layers of perfect hair and makeup that challenged me. She never wanted to
sit home and play games or cook dinner with me; it was always ‘which restaurant are we going to tonight?’ She only ever cared about the attention.
Chrissy, on the other hand, just got up and left. At the worst imaginable time, I might add, so she could work. Seeing a woman dedicated to her business succeeding was the sexiest thing in the world.
That act alone sealed it for me. There was no way I could buy that building. Bayview Investments would have to scope out another location for our condo/brewpub venture. Alex would be pissed, but there are other properties. Other investment opportunities.
A part of me wondered if the building was worth the drama. If the owner was so motivated to sell, perhaps there was a problem they weren’t disclosing.
No one just walks away from a goldmine. Do they?
I took my phone into my office while opening my laptop to search more available properties. I scrolled through all of the same buildings that had been on the market for months. The truth is, Mont Claire was an up and coming area. The development planned over the next two years was going to make this place explode.
Me: Hey Al, I’m not so sure about that building.
Alex: What? Why? I thought you loved it?
Me: Eh. It’s not as great as I initially thought. It’s a little sketchy at night. Too much crime. I think we should keep looking.
Alex: It’s a little late for that, Jax. I’ll be in town tomorrow to talk business with the owner.
Shit.
I didn’t reply to the last text and instead poured myself a glass of scotch. This was a real pickle. Maybe I should just tell Alex about Chrissy? Explain the situation.
And what do I say? I’m in love with the local baker?
Me: Al, There’s a complication.
Alex: What kind?
Me: A woman kind.
Me: She owns a bakery in the building. I was hoping we could run the numbers and see how profitable it would be to keep her there.
Alex: Bad idea, Jax.
