by Cameron Hart
Boss Me Sweetly
(Boss Me Book 2)
By Cameron Hart
Copyright © 2019 by Cameron Hart
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Sign up for my newsletter to get a free novella: Chasing Stacy.
For more info on upcoming books and sneak previews of new projects, make sure to check out my website: cameronhart.net
Chapter 1
Sienna
“One… more… Daisy… Yes! Perfection.” I stand back and admire my work, wiping the thin layer of sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.
This is by far the most girly, glittery, over-the-top cake I’ve ever made. I love it. The bride asked for pink glitter marshmallow fondant, and though I’ve never made that, or even heard of it, I was up for the challenge. She also wanted wildflowers in every size and color spiraling down the three-tiered cake. Teal, purple, yellow, orange, blue, and of course, plenty of pink. The cake itself is strawberry flavored, with an orange creamsicle filling. Again, not a combination I’ve ever heard of, but damn if it isn’t delicious.
I’ve made some pretty incredible masterpieces in the short time I’ve owned this bakery, if I do say so myself, but this one is in a completely different league. It’s not something I ever would have come up with on my own, but after talking with the bubbly and bright Luna Foster, soon to be Luna Knight, we designed the perfect cake for her wedding.
While I enjoy the day-to-day baking tasks that keep this little bakery open, these custom orders are what I live for. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this cake, and today is the big day. I take a few more pictures of the most gorgeous cake I’ve ever made.
Looking at the clock, I go into panic mode. I should have left ten minutes ago, but I got caught up in decorating and daydreaming. Fuck. I wanted to change my clothes and look a little more presentable in case I run into anyone at the wedding who might want my business card. As it is, I’ll have to go in what I’m wearing – yoga pants, a baggy sweatshirt, and scuffed up Vans. Very professional.
No time to worry about that now. I wash my hands and package the cake up, getting it ready to transport. This is only my second delivery, and while my one and only part-time worker, Mandy, offered to do it, I insisted on hand-delivering this one myself. If I’m honest, I don’t trust anyone else to handle this cake. I need to be the one to carry it into the reception hall and set it down on the table to ensure it made it there in one piece and nothing goes wrong. Does that make me a bit of a control freak? Probably. So be it.
After securing the cake in my car with the help of Mandy, I punch in the location of the reception and pull into traffic. Other cars honk at me for going five below the speed limit, and I dutifully honk right back, giving them the middle finger for good measure. Some might call it road rage, but I call it being a New Yorker. Granted, I’ve only been one for the last year, but I like to think I’ve adapted to my surroundings quite well.
On top of the late start from my shop in Brooklyn to the reception hall in Tribeca, there’s an accident on the Brooklyn bridge, because of course there is.
“Fuck,” I hiss out, staring at the clock on my dashboard.
It figures. The most gorgeous cake I’ve ever made, for the fancy wedding of a billionaire, and I’m going to screw it up by being late.
Do you really think you can make it on your own? You’re going to screw everything up and come crawling back to me, you ungrateful bitch.
I’ve been gone for over a year, but her voice seems to be stuck in my head. Nails on a chalkboard. More like used needles on a chipped Formica countertop. I lay on the horn trying to drown out the voice in my head.
Twenty agonizing minutes later, I pull off of the bridge and speed as carefully as I can, to the reception hall. I know it’s already started, I just hope they have a seven-course meal or whatever it is rich people do for weddings.
Parking by the back entrance, I set up my little cart and place the cake just so, somehow managing to get it out of the backseat on my own. I maneuver the cart up the ramp and prop the door open, wheeling the cake and cart into the kitchen. Peering out of the kitchen doors into the reception hall, I breathe a sigh of relief to see the guests are still working on their steak dinner.
I turn back to my cart and begin walking backwards, pulling the cart along as my butt pushes open the swinging door. The wheel gets stuck on the lip of the door frame, so I tug gently at the cart, cursing whoever installed the door. The cart doesn’t give at all, so I push it forward, repositioning the wheel, and try tugging again. And again. And again.
My heel slips from underneath me and I feel myself falling backwards in slow motion while the cart finally pops free from the door frame and threatens to roll right over me. Fan-fucking-tastic. Not only am I going to ruin the sweet Luna’s wedding, but I’m going to make a gigantic fool out of myself in the process.
Instead of falling to my untimely and embarrassing demise, I feel a strong hand steady me between my shoulder blades while another hand reaches in front of me to stop the cart. I gasp in surprise and hold my breath while squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the cake to topple over or my knees to give out. Neither of those things happen.
“Are you ok?” The smooth, deep voice of my savior causes me to open my eyes and take a breath. It also causes my heart to stutter in my chest for some reason.
Slowly, I turn around and stare up into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They are full of concern and kindness. I don’t think anyone has looked at me that way other than my Grams, and certainly not drop-dead gorgeous men like this one. He’s seriously stunning. Styled yet perfectly messy brown hair, thick eyebrows, long lashes I’d kill for, framing those crystal blue eyes of his. Sharp nose, soft lips, strong jaw. He even has a few tattoos poking out from the collar of his dress shirt, which completes the sexy, bad boy with a heart of gold package. Then he smiles at me.
And now my knees actually do give out.
My handsome savior pulls me into his large body with a hand on the small of my back. All of the air whooshes right out of my lungs when I feel his hard muscles press up against my soft curves. I still can’t take my eyes off of his, like he’s holding me hostage.
“Careful there, sweetness,” he murmurs.
Just like that, the spell is broken.
“I’m no one’s sweetness,” I snap, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but his grip is strong.
He just chuckles, the warm, gravelly sound washing over me and making me ache in places that are totally inappropriate. My gorgeous savior turned captor lifts a hand up to my face and swipes his thumb over my right eyebrow. I narrow my eyes at him, but then he pulls his thumb away, showing me a streak of frosting he wiped off.
Looking me square in the eyes, he brings the frosting to his lips and sucks it off of the pad of his finger, groaning at the taste.
Oh shit, my panties are wet. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
He grins down at me, showing off his white teeth and a devious sparkle in his eyes. “Delicious, just like I thought, sweetness.”
I do my best to scowl at him, despite the heat coursing through my body and pooling between my thighs. I do not need this arrogant asshole hitting on me during the biggest delivery of my short career as a baker. I jerk away from his embrace, and this time, he lets me.
Continuing on my mission to get the cake set up, I push the cart over to the table and come up with a game plan for transferring the monstrosity.
“Need some help?” The handsome jerk asks, that huge smile still on his face. The guy has dimples, because of course he does.
It’s not even fair.
“No, I’m fine, thanks. Go back to your steak dinner,” I say in my coldest tone, waving him off.
“Maybe you were right. Not so sweet after all, huh? More like… a kitten. Adorable with sharp claws.”
“Is that what it would take to get you to fuck off? Clawing you?”
His eyes turn dark, which doesn’t help my confusing state of arousal.
“I don’t know, maybe you should try,” he responds, smirking like the asshole he is. The sexy, impossible to ignore asshole who is making me feel… things.
I turn my back to him and scoot the cart up close to the table. I have no idea how I got this behemoth of a cake out of my Jeep without the help of Mandy, but if I did that, I can do this. Except now my hands are sweaty and I have an audience.
I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, taking a deep, controlled breath. I open one eye and notice the gorgeous jerk has moved around to face me again, smirking and just waiting for me to ask for his help.
He quirks an eyebrow up in challenge, which makes me grit my teeth. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I want to push him away and pull him close and tell him to go to hell and also tell him to never leave me.
I mean, what is happening to me? He’s crazy-making, that’s what he is. Trouble. A distraction. He’s the opposite of what I need right now. I’m just trying to lay low. Start over. Gain some footing and confidence.
I clear my throat and disperse any and all thoughts of the blue-eyed piece of man candy standing far too close to me. Slipping my hands under the cake, I prepare to lift and ease it onto the table. It’s surprisingly easy and the whole thing is done in about ten seconds.
Ha. Take that, Mr. Too-Handsome-For-His-Own-Good.
And then I realize he helped me after all, as his hands slide out from under the cake stand.
“I could have done it myself. I don’t need your help,” I spit out at him. “Not every woman is looking for a knight in shining armor, you know.”
“Ah, I suppose it’s just in my nature, then. I didn’t mean to offend your sensibilities.” He grins at me, the bastard.
“My sensibilities?! Who do you think you are?”
He holds out his hand, and I can’t help but notice tattoos peeking out of his sleeve. The guy must be covered in them, and I won’t lie, I want to see them all.
“I’m Cooper Knight. My shining armor is at the cleaners, so this tux had to do.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble. I know I should backtrack, try to save face. However, apologies aren’t really my thing. Neither is being fake nice to someone and kissing their ass to get what I want.
Cooper just smiles that big, stupid, sexy smile and takes my hand in his for a handshake. I swear to God, my hand tingles and something spikes my heartrate when his large hand engulfs my much smaller one. It’s cheesy as fuck and I wouldn’t believe it if it weren’t happening to me right now.
I try pulling my hand away, but Cooper tightens his grip and tugs me into his hard, warm body once again. I hate how his cinnamon and spice smell invades my senses and how his breathing anchors me. I hate how his eyes peer down into mine and make me feel seen for the first time in so long. I hate that I don’t hate it at all, and that I feel so vulnerable and yet safe.
“I know you feel it too,” he whispers.
“I don’t feel anything,” I lie. Am I trembling in his arms right now? Why can’t I breathe? What is happening to my stupid heart that’s making it pound violently in my chest?
Cooper grins at me, that dimple popping out, those blue eyes twinkling. I see his hand reach up and cup the side of my face. Despite my brain screaming for me to run away, I lean into his touch. God, how long has it been since someone has been this close to me? Treated me so tenderly? Am I really so lonely and starved for human connection?
“You’re lying, kitten,” he whispers. Cooper looks at me with such intensity, such longing. No one has ever looked at me that way. It’s too much. But I’m frozen in place, waiting for his next move. “You’re scared,” he says. It’s a statement of fact, one that I can’t deny.
I don’t like that he can read me so easily. I don’t like that he just slipped right under all of my defenses and rendered me speechless, practically melting in his strong embrace. My survival instincts finally kick in, and I do the only thing I can think of to get him to back the fuck off.
I slap him. Hard.
He instantly releases me and I recoil on instinct, waiting for his anger, his retaliation. Instead, Cooper grins, even as he’s rubbing his cheek. I grab my cart and high tail it out of there. The farther away I get from Cooper, the more my heart and mind battle each other. I want him. I hate him. He feels safe. He could break me. He feels like home. I could never belong in his world.
Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t you dare look back.
I look back.
Cooper is standing there smiling at me in equal parts disbelief and awe. My heart flutters while other parts of me throb. I growl at myself for being weak.
Back in my car, I take a few cleansing breaths. I open my eyes and stare at myself in the rearview mirror. “Get ahold of yourself. You’re stronger than this. You don’t need no man, especially that arrogant jerk. You’ll never see him again anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
I shove down the sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought of never seeing Cooper again. I’m sure I’ll forget all about him by the end of the day, just like he’ll forget about me.
Chapter 2
Cooper
My cheek stings from where my little kitten slapped me, but I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. She’s mine, I know it. I fucking feel it. I know she feels it too, especially when she looks at me over her shoulder, those hazel eyes searching me, fighting me, surrendering to me. She scowls, which only makes me want her more.
Clad in yoga pants, an old baggy sweatshirt, ratty sneakers, and a mess of black hair piled on top of her head, I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as my sweetness. I don’t even know her name, but I will.
“What’s going on with you?” My brother, Declan, asks.
“I just met my future wife,” I tell him, still looking at the door my kitten just went through.
“Really?!” Luna says excitedly. “How romantic! Who is she?”
“I have no fucking clue, but I’ll find out by the end of the week.”
Declan claps me on the shoulder and gives me a knowing look. He and his new bride had a rocky start, but they are so in love it’s ridiculous. Even more shocking is the fact that my stubborn, hardass brother is a freaking teddy bear when it comes to Luna, though it took some time for him to come around to the idea of love.
Not me. I had my fun and my fill of empty relationships, and now I’m ready for something real. Something life-altering. Something like my sweet little baker with the chip on her shoulder. She’s probably a good ten years younger than my thirty one, which brings out this protective instinct in me. She’s all fire and fury, but underneath all of that, I see her. The real her. I tore her wide open just like she did me. She felt vulnerable and threatened, but I’ll show her she has nothing to fear from me. I’ll only ever love her and protect her. Whoever she is.
Which reminds me, I need to ask Luna where she got the cake. But… not right now. She’s currently being cutesy with Declan, which is still such a strange sight. I’m happy for him, though. Hopefully one day soon it will be my kitten and me getting married and rubbing frosting on each other’s faces. And other places.
Well, damn. Now all I can think about is undressing my sweet little baker and rubbing frosting on her breasts and sucking it off, getting her nipples nice and hard for me while I…
I clear my throat and get my hardening cock under control. This is not the time nor the place to be having such thoughts.
Soon, sweetness. Soon you’ll be mine like I’m already yours.
✽✽✽
Luna and Declan j
ust got back from their honeymoon, thank god. It’s taken every bit of self-control I have not to bother them while they are away. But their flight landed an hour ago, which means I’m already an hour behind schedule to finding out who my sexy little baker is.
It should shock me how much I’m already consumed by her, but it doesn’t. Like I said, I’ve been ready for the right woman to come along. I knew the next time I was with someone, they would be my forever. I didn’t know it would be love at first sight, I’m not even sure I believed in all of that, but now… well, all I know is that I need her in a crazy way that defies logic and good sense.
I knew I was infatuated with my feisty little kitten, and I expected to obsess over her in the days leading up to finding her again. But I wasn’t prepared for the ache of being separated. This last week I kept replaying our short time together. The way she felt in my arms, so tiny and perfect. The cute little smudge of frosting over her eyebrow. The white, creamy skin dotted with freckles on her nose and cheeks. Freckles that I want to kiss and taste and lick. And her eyes. Goddamn. Brown at the center that fades to green and then blue, complete with golden flecks that I can’t get out of my head.
When I touched her hand, my whole body lit up. I can’t explain it, and I won’t even try to understand it, but it only confirmed what I already knew; this woman isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. And when I cupped the side of her face, her eyes flashed with such a profound longing, even though she was fighting it every step of the way. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and never let her go.
But then she slapped the fuck out of me. I won’t lie, that had me sporting a semi for a long time after she left. I’m going to enjoy getting under her skin and winding my way into her life and her heart. God knows she’s already the center of my world and I don’t even know her name.
My phone rings, flashing Declan’s name across the screen. Thank fuck.
“Bro—”
