“You don’t have to stay,” she assured him. “If you’re hungry, I can package some food up for you, but as someone who’s been on the receiving end of Memaw’s machinations too many times to count, I know how it feels to be blindsided by her.”
“Is your cooking as good as Winnie claims?” Rocket asked.
Jayme wasn’t conceited. Didn’t like to brag. But she knew she was a good cook and baker. She shrugged and simply said, “Yes.”
“Then if you aren’t too uncomfortable to eat with a stranger, I’d love to stay.”
Chapter 2
Rocket stared silently at the woman in front of him and waited with bated breath to see what she’d say in response to his request to stay. He should be upset that Winnie had totally set them up. She hadn’t mentioned that her granddaughter was in town when she’d texted and invited him over to eat last week.
He’d met Winnie a couple months ago at the grocery store, and surprisingly, they’d hit it off. She reminded him a lot of his own late grandmother. They’d exchanged phone numbers, and he’d been by her place a few times to check on her. Rocket missed his grandmother a lot—and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was lonely.
He’d tried the dating thing. But none of the women he’d met had seemed to be interested in a long-term relationship. He was mostly content with his own company, but couldn’t deny that Winnie was a breath of fresh air. She made him laugh and he liked that she seemed to enjoy his company as well.
He was single, hadn’t been in a relationship with a woman in a few years, and the chance to have a home-cooked meal was too tempting to resist. Rocket wasn’t very skilled in the kitchen. He didn’t starve, thanks to his grill and frozen meals, but he’d learned over the years that his culinary abilities left a lot to be desired.
The second he’d stepped into Winnie’s house tonight, his mouth had immediately started to water. It smelled absolutely divine. His stomach had growled, and he’d chuckled when Winnie raised an eyebrow at hearing it.
The last thing he wanted to do was go back to his empty house and nuke another microwaveable meal. He hoped Jayme would decide she was comfortable with him staying. Rocket knew he wasn’t the most approachable-looking man. He was big. Tall and thick. He had to shop at specialty stores to get clothes that fit.
Shuffling where he was standing, he put his hands in his pockets to try to look less threatening. Most of the time he didn’t mind the nervous glances people gave him. He wasn’t much for idle chatter, and if people were scared of him, that meant they didn’t try to engage him in conversation.
Winnie had been the rare exception. She’d gladly taken up his tentative offer to help get her groceries to her car and had babbled on, not seeming to care that he hadn’t said much in response. Her granddaughter clearly wasn’t as talkative, though Rocket could see the physical similarities between Winnie and her granddaughter. Both were petite, had the same heart-shaped face, they even both had a slight dimple when they smiled. And he supposed before Winnie’s hair went gray, she probably had the same light brown locks as Jayme.
Rocket did his best to keep his eyes on Jayme’s face…but his mind was stuck on her curves. The red dress she had on lovingly outlined wide hips and an abundant chest. As a large man, Rocket had always been drawn to women who didn’t look like they’d break if he touched them. She was lush…and his hands almost itched to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. Her dress fell to her knees, and for just a second, he imagined kneeling in front of her, running his hand under the hem. Up her thigh, hearing her breath catch in her throat, smelling her arousal as his hand got closer and closer to her soaking wet core…
“Any friend of Memaw’s is a friend of mine,” Jayme said softly.
And that voice. Just the sound of it made Rocket long for things he’d never had. Lazy nights cuddled together in his king-size bed, long intellectual conversations across the dinner table, hearing her whisper in his ear as he took her long, slow, and tenderly.
Shit. Clearly he’d been spending too much time alone. He had to stop thinking about sex, otherwise he was going to scare the shit out of Jayme with his hard-on.
When most people looked at him, they saw his size, his large hands, blackened with years of oil stains. They also assumed he wasn’t all that bright, for some reason. But Rocket actually had a master’s degree in business. He’d earned it from an online university—and hadn’t told a soul. He’d been bored, wanted to challenge himself.
“It smells great in here,” Rocket said, trying to put Jayme at ease.
She smiled, and it lit up her face. “Thanks.”
“What are we having?” Rocket’s mouth watered as she rattled off the menu. “Can I do anything to help?”
“Set the table?” Jayme asked.
Letting out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t asked him to do anything related to cooking, Rocket nodded.
“Plates are in that cabinet, and the silverware is in that drawer over there.”
Rocket stepped farther into the kitchen—and immediately realized how small the space was. He could smell Jayme’s perfume, or lotion, or shampoo. She smelled like the beach, coconut and something tropical. He felt his dick twitch in his jeans and he willed himself to calm the fuck down. The very last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.
As he stepped closer to her, Rocket noted how short she was compared to him. He and Winnie had laughed at their extreme differences in height, and he’d gotten used to towering over most people. But looking at Jayme right now, it seemed they would actually fit together perfectly. If he took her in his arms, her head would rest against his chest.
The thought of holding her against him and burying his face in her hair made his muscles clench. This visceral reaction he was having to the woman was almost frightening.
“Are you all right?” Jayme asked in concern.
Rocket nodded. He needed to get his shit together. Otherwise Jayme was going to think he was a freak and warn her grandmother away from him. “Just hungry, I guess,” he said with a smile.
“Good. I went overboard, like usual. There’s enough food here for an army.”
Rocket reached over her for the plates in the cabinet and headed toward the small table next to the kitchen before he did something stupid…like pull Jayme into his embrace.
“I’m really sorry Memaw tricked you,” she said as she peered into the oven to check on the pasta.
“I’m not,” Rocket said honestly. When he looked over, he saw Jayme blushing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen an honest-to-God blush on a woman’s face. “Winnie’s told me a bit about you. It’s nice to meet you in person.”
Jayme rolled her eyes. “Of course she has. Memaw can’t resist telling her life story, and mine too, to everyone.”
“She had nothing but good things to say,” Rocket reassured her.
Jayme smiled. “She drives me crazy, but I love her. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she hadn’t invited me down here to Texas to stay with her for a while.”
“Everything all right?” Rocket asked, wanting to know as much as possible about the woman. He got the silverware out of the drawer as she began to dish the Caesar salad into bowls.
She sighed. “Not really.”
Rocket would have loved to tell her that he’d help however he could, but they’d just met. There was no reason for her to spill her guts to him or to accept any offer of assistance. “I know you don’t know me…but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
He took the bowls of salad from her, and she tilted her head up and looked into his eyes for a long moment. “Thanks,” she said softly.
Rocket nodded. And while he was disappointed she hadn’t taken him up on the offer to confide in him, he wasn’t completely surprised.
The next few minutes was spent getting the food to the table. Then Rocket held Jayme’s chair for her, and she thanked him quietly again as she sat.
“This looks incredible,” Rocket said in awe.
“It’s nothing special,” Jayme replied a little self-consciously.
“Wrong. It’s amazing. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal that looked as good as this,” Rocket told her.
“Well, leave room for dessert, because I’ve been told my Butterfinger cake is to die for.”
Rocket groaned.
“And I made some peanut butter cookies for Memaw, but after her shenanigans tonight, I think I’m gonna give them all to you to take home.”
“Will you marry me?” Rocket blurted.
Jayme laughed—and Rocket realized he’d only been half-kidding. He didn’t know anything about this woman except that she was a hell of a cook. But simply being around her made him feel lighter. Happier. More content.
“Perhaps I’ll just be your cookie dealer,” she returned.
“Done,” Rocket said without hesitation.
“Maybe you shouldn’t commit before you taste everything,” she said with a small shrug.
“I don’t have to. Anything you make will be one hundred percent better than what I can whip up myself.”
“You don’t cook?” she asked as she picked up her fork.
Following her lead, Rocket speared some of his salad and took a bite, swallowing before he answered. “Nope. Not at all. Never learned the basics growing up. My mom wasn’t around, and my dad’s idea of dinner was to slap some bologna between two pieces of bread and call it done. When we could afford it, we splurged on takeout.”
Instead of looking at him with pity, Jayme seemed more curious. “You never learned as an adult?”
Rocket shrugged. “When I graduated from high school, I joined the Navy. Spent a lot of time on ships in the middle of the ocean. Food was always provided for me. Since I got out and started working for contractors, I’ve been content to live on takeout and frozen meals.”
“Memaw said you were a helicopter mechanic?” Jayme asked.
Rocket nodded. He didn’t really like to talk about himself, but he’d tell this woman anything she wanted to know. “Yeah. I helped my dad rebuild cars when I was in high school, and it seemed like a natural progression when I joined the Navy. I didn’t like the military life, but I loved tinkering with engines. So now I get to do what I love, but I don’t have to deal with the rules and regulations that come with being a sailor.”
“That’s great,” Jayme said.
“So is this,” Rocket told her, nodding to the stuffed shells he was eating. “Seriously, I’ve never tasted anything so good.”
“Thanks,” she said shyly.
“Have you always wanted to be a cook?”
“Not a cook, but a baker, yes,” she said.
“There’s a difference?” Rocket asked.
She chuckled. “Yeah. The differences lie in the kind of products they make. Bakers primarily make breads, cookies, cakes, pastries, and other baked goods. Chefs don’t focus on one kind of food, but make all sorts of different meals.”
Rocket looked down at his empty plate and then back up at Jayme. “Seems to me that you’re both.”
She was still smiling. “Well, I like to cook, but I love to bake.”
“Then I can’t wait to taste those cookies and your Butterfinger cake,” Rocket said.
An hour later, after four cookies and two helpings of the most amazing cake he’d ever eaten, Rocket was sitting with Jayme in Winnie’s living room. She was holding a cup of tea, and she’d brewed a pot of coffee for him. He was full, and feeling extremely content to sit and chat with one of the most interesting women he’d met in a very long time.
“So, you never did say what brought you to Texas,” Rocket started, desperate to learn more about Jayme.
She shrugged and looked into her teacup. “It’s not a very interesting story.”
“To me it is,” Rocket said simply.
“Why?”
Why indeed. He slowly leaned over and put his coffee cup on the table in front of him and waited for Jayme to look up. When she finally met his gaze, he said, “I came over tonight expecting, after a nice meal with Winnie, to go back to my house and spend the rest of the night alone. Just as I have every other night of my life. I get up, go to work, go home, watch TV, sleep…then do it again the next day. I don’t have a lot of friends, and people are generally wary of me because of my size.
“You had every right to be upset with Winnie for setting us up; you could’ve told me you weren’t comfortable being alone with me, but instead, you fed me the best meal I’ve had in years and you haven’t treated me as if I might be dangerous or violent just because of my size. You’re also beautiful…and I can’t understand why you aren’t married with a houseful of children by now. The men in your life must all be complete idiots.
“I want to know more about you, Jayme. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to you, maybe part of it is because you took pity on a hungry bachelor, but I am. You probably think I’m a creeper now, and that sucks, but if I left here without letting you know I’ve had a wonderful evening so far, and that I’d like to see you again, take you out on a date, I’d never forgive myself. So…yeah, everything about you is interesting to me. Including how you ended up here.”
The second he stopped speaking, and she remained silent, Rocket wanted to kick himself.
He was an idiot. He’d never been all that good in social situations, and this was why. He tended to say what he was thinking, even if it made him look like a weirdo.
Still berating himself, he held his breath as he waited for Jayme’s response.
Chapter 3
Jayme stared at the man sitting nearby. He was in the easy chair her grandpa had always sat in, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes focused on her.
She hated to learn that people treated him badly simply because of his size. Interestingly, she hadn’t been leery of him at all. Even though he was a foot taller and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. Maybe it was because Memaw trusted him. Maybe it was because of the way he looked at her grandmother with respect.
“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I’ll head on out now,” Rocket said after she remained silent too long. He shifted to stand.
Jayme’s hand shot out before she could think about what she was doing. She touched his thigh, just above his knee and he froze comically, half-standing, half-sitting.
“Stay,” Jayme said quickly.
Rocket slowly lowered himself back into the chair, and Jayme could feel his muscles under her hand shifting as he moved. She licked her lips and reluctantly took her hand off his leg and gripped her teacup once again.
It had been a long time since a man had intrigued her as much as Rocket. He looked nothing like the men she’d dated in the past. He wasn’t as refined. Was more…wild. Rougher. But she liked that about him.
Swallowing hard, she said, “I was an idiot. That’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Rocket said without hesitation.
“Thanks, but I was. I worked at a small bakery out in Seattle for ten years. The owner, Claire, was an older woman who reminded me a lot of my memaw in so many ways. When I first started working at The Gingerbread House, she was my mentor. She taught me a lot about owning a business. We would get to work at four-thirty and spend the time before the doors opened baking and laughing. She knew me better than anyone else. She was like a second mother to me.”
Jayme stopped and took a sip of her tea, wishing she didn’t feel as if she was on the verge of tears. She should be angry about what happened, but instead she was heartbroken.
Rocket didn’t push her to continue. He didn’t rush her at all. When Jayme glanced over, she saw his eyes were focused on her. He wasn’t fidgeting or looking bored. It was a heady feeling to be the center of this man’s attention.
“Anyway, over the years, things slowly started to change. Claire didn’t come to work in the mornings until we’d been open for an hour or so. More and more of the everyday operations fell to me. I
was okay with that though, because I was under the assumption that the store would be mine someday. Claire and I had talked about it, and she’d told me that when she was ready to retire, she’d sell the store to me.”
Jayme stopped talking again, but this time it was because her throat had closed up. Thinking about what happened was as painful now as it had been three months ago…the day Claire had said she needed to talk to her.
Jayme felt the cushion next to her depress, and the next thing she knew, Rocket was sitting next to her. He took the cup out of her hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then he took both her hands in his and simply held them lightly.
She could smell his citrusy scent, and she had a feeling she’d never smell lemons again and not think of this man. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Take your time,” Rocket told her gently.
It took another few moments before she could speak again. “I was doing most of the work at the store. I was in charge of all the employees, ordering supplies, making sure everything got baked in the mornings. So when Claire asked to speak to me, I was sure she was going to tell me that she was retiring and wanted to discuss terms to sell the store. But instead, she told me that her nephew would be taking over. That she was selling The Gingerbread House to him.
“I was so shocked. Her nephew had only been in the bakery a few times that I knew of in the entire time I’d worked there. She apologized and told me she hoped I stayed on as manager. She wanted me to teach her nephew the ropes.
“It hurt. Bad. I’d put a decade of blood, sweat, and tears into that bakery, only to have my hopes and dreams ripped out from under me. Still, I didn’t want to let Claire down. I tried. I really did. But her nephew is an idiot. He doesn’t care about the bakery or the loyal customers. All he wants is money. He fired a few of the staff and cut so many corners, the tried-and-true pastries we’d offered for so many years no longer tasted the same because of the generic ingredients he insisted we start using. I couldn’t take it any longer and finally quit.
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