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My mouth opens, breaths coming out hard and rough as he leans in close. So fucking close…
I tilt my head back, I close my eyes, I...
Get slammed by the door in the back of my head.
Ow. Fuck.
“Malcolm, what the fuck are you doing?” Edgar snaps as he peeks his head in, ruining everything. “I got two full ovens to unload. Let’s go!”
He grabs my man and pulls him out of the pantry.
I drop onto the bags of flour, head hurting, pussy burning, horny as hell, and wanting Malcolm Burns more than ever.
“What are you cooking?” Aunt Tracy asks as she walks into the kitchen. “It smells great!”
I smile as I stir the onions caramelizing in the pan. “Fish tacos! They’re a little burnt though.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Neither did I!”
Aunt Tracy sits at the table and watches me with a smile on her face. I have a glass of wine, fun music playing, and I’m dancing around the kitchen as I follow the cooking recipe on YouTube.
I never knew that cooking could be so fun. We always had chefs to do this, but I kind of wished we would have cooked as a family once in a while growing up. Maybe we would have been happier if we had done the simple things. Maybe Mom wouldn’t have been so quick to leave.
“Are you hungry, Whiskey?” I ask when I see the old cat stumbling in. She’s the scruffiest looking cat ever with cloudy blue eyes and a mangy coat, but she’s starting to grow on me.
I peel open the can as she bumps into the counter on the way to her bowl. “Salmon paté,” I say as I dump it into her bowl and give her a pat. “Looks delicious! Bon appétit!”
I’m humming and dancing around the kitchen as I get back to my sizzling fish. Whiskey is chomping away at her food and Aunt Tracy is smiling at me from the table.
“You seem so much lighter,” she says as I toss some tortillas into the oven to heat up.
“I feel lighter. I feel great!”
It’s true. Even back in my old life, I never felt this free. This light. This hopeful.
“You hated it here a few days ago. What changed?”
I shrug as I stir the onions. I’m in love.
“I guess I’m trying to look at everything more positively,” I say. “It’s working.”
“Good. Keep it up. I’m proud of you.”
We smile at each other and for the first time since I arrived, my smile is genuine.
And for the first time since I arrived, this place is starting to feel like home.
“Coffee,” I mutter under my breath as I shuffle toward the coffee machine at the bakery.
It’s freaking five AM.
I’m opening with Edgar.
Getting up this early should be a crime. I had to walk here in the dark.
I’m exhausted because I was up all night thinking about my crush. I can’t seem to get him out of my mind.
“Good morning,” a sexy voice rumbles through the bakery as I fiddle with the coffee machine.
I whip my head around, suddenly much more awake when I see Malcolm walking toward me.
“What are you doing here? I thought I was opening with Edgar.”
“I switched shifts with him.”
“Why?”
He just stares at me like he doesn’t know how to answer.
I see… Interesting…
Seems like I’m not the only one with a crush.
“Are you making coffee?”
“Yeah!” I say even though I forgot all about it with him in my presence. That seems to happen quite a lot—every other thought gets pushed to the side when he’s standing in front of me. “Do you want some?”
“Sure.”
I watch his reflection in the stainless steel coffee maker as he sits down at a table. He’s wearing a light blue shirt today and I can’t help but notice how it perfectly molds to his big shoulders.
I know how he likes his coffee. I’ve been paying attention to everything about this man. He takes a double espresso with a splash of milk. I make him one and one for myself.
“Thank you,” he says as I put it on the table in front of him, making sure to bend extra low so he can peek down my shirt.
I sit across from him, buzzing with excited nervous energy. There’s nothing like sitting across from your crush to get your heart pumping in the morning. It beats running on a treadmill.
“What are we making this morning?” I ask before taking a sip of the espresso. Ugh. That’s gross.
“Cherry pies,” he says with those sexy green eyes locked on me. “It’s our specialty and we sell a lot during Valentine’s week.”
“Do you like cherry pie?” I ask innocently. Only once it’s out of my mouth do I realize how dirty it sounds.
Those hungry eyes look me over slowly, shamelessly, before arriving back at mine. “Cherry pie is delicious,” he says in that low throaty voice that’s so damn sexy. “I can’t wait to try yours.”
