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THIRTY-TWO
Laia
Be careful what you wish for, baby girl.
I push my fingers into the soft pie dough and glance at the time on the oven, puffing a curl from my face, picturing my dad’s half amused, half smug lip quirk.
His words are definitely more than apt today.
Simon called?. He wants twenty pies by tonight for tomorrow’s breakfast shift at the hotel. They’re already on the menu.
Felix is supposed to be picking me up in fifteen minutes to go to Kenzi’s parents’ party.
And I’m still in my pajamas.
I should have said no. Should have told Simon I need more time. I have other commitments. I need more time.
It’s too late now though. I’ve committed.
I hunker down and peek into the oven. No. The lights on, but … I jerk open the door. “No.” No heat. The pies crusts are raw. These should be done by now. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whisper, bashing the buttons semi-hysterically. They need to be done by now. I need the next four in and baking. “Why are you not working?” A knot ties up my stomach when I lift my gaze to the mango mixture and the new chocolate and chili filling, I finally perfected at two this morning with no Felix to keep my nightmares at bay. He asked me to stay at his place. I didn’t. I couldn’t. Some silly part of me figured staying there, with Felix, is like letting Damon win by default. Even if the flowers weren’t from him.
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and push those thoughts back. I need to find an oven. Kenzi’s already at her parents’ helping set up. I can’t ask her to come back to let me into her place. My eyes sting and my pulse thuds in my ears.
I can’t let Simon down. This is my chance.
A knock at the front door has me freezing, still crouched down, finger mid-jab of the oven’s timer button.
Panic prickles down my spine. I don’t want to let Felix down either. It’s a big deal going to this party together. Like together together.
I hurry to the front door, peek through the looky hole then swing it open.
Felix’s gaze takes a slow trip down my body, over my pajamas then back up to my face, a dimple appearing in one of his cheeks. “Though I really, really love those shorts, I think the party might be a tiny bit more formal.”
A puff of a laugh escapes before my face crumples. “I can’t come—Simon wants more pies, and my oven, and…” I shake my head and move back when he steps across the threshold. “I’m sorry. I can’t get everything done and go to the party. I’m letting everyone down.”
“Slow down.” He grips my shoulders then smooths his hands up the sides of my neck. “What’s wrong?”
His touch settles my nerves enough for me to pull in a deep breath. The buttons of his white shirt dig against my palms when I press them to his chest, my gaze lifting to meet his. “Simon’s asked for twenty pies by tonight, but my oven is broken. It’s not working, and I can’t mess this up. I can’t let him down. I need an oven and more time. And you … you look so … good. So you, but I can’t go with you. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re not mad?” He’s not mad. He’s not even scowling. My head shakes, my eyes stupidly teary at the little half-smile still playing on his lips. Of course he’s not mad. He’s Felix. Not Damon. He’s the anti-Damon. “You should still go, though. Mrs. Devon left me a key. Maybe I can use her kitchen.” I wipe my hands down my shorts and glance through the arch into my mess of a kitchen, momentarily distracted by the flowers peeking out of the trash can.
“Use my oven.”
My head snaps back to him. “Really?” His oven would work. His oven would more than work.
He shrugs a shoulder and rocks back on his heels. “Yeah.”
My smile is huge and toothy. “Really, really?”
“I like watching you bake.” He grips my hips and runs his teeth over his bottom lip before it curves up into a smirk. “Especially if you keep the shorts on.”
“Wait. No. What about the party?” I pull out of his hold. “You can’t miss it because of me.” I push my fingers into my tied-back hair. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll call Mrs. Devon. I’ll go to her place. You should definitely go to the party.” I shake my head. “This is my problem. Go. Have fun.” I might have admitted to myself that I like him. And even that I want more with him, but depending on him to fix my problems? That’s not a hole I’m prepared to fall into. I don’t ever want to owe anyone again for anything. Not even Felix.
His big arm is wrapped around my waist, and I’m pulled back to him the second I start for the kitchen. “I’m not going without you.” He catches my lips in a soft kiss and I melt, literally puddle by his feet. “Pack up everything you need and let’s go.”
My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek. “I just … I don’t want to get used to you fixing things for me.”
His forehead creases and he scratches at the scruff over his jaw. “What if I like fixing things for you? What if fixing things for you is my new thing?”
I frown hard and shake my head. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”
His face sobers instantly, his eyebrows lowering as he scans my face.
“I didn’t mean … I meant…” My thumb lifts to my mouth, my teeth finding the corner of my nail. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He gently tugs my hand back down. “Let’s get one thing straight, Laia. When I offer my help, it’s because I want to. No strings. I’m not that guy.”
My chin trembles and my cheeks heat, but I nod, my fingers twisting in front of me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I—”
My words are cut off with another kiss. A kiss that feels a lot like distraction. I part my lips. He slides his hands down to my ass and lifts me easily, pressing me against the wall in front of the wide-open front door.
Switch officially flipped. I rake my fingers through his hair and arch into his hold, my lips hard against his until he pulls back, half panting, half laughing. “And no more apologizing.” His eyes twinkle as he slides me down his body until my bare feet hit the cold tile, then he wanders off beneath the arch that leads to the kitchen.
If baking with Felix when we were just friends was fun, then baking with him now that we’re more is something else entirely.
I bend to shut the door of his sleek, stainless-steel oven and peek through the glass at my pies. “Last batch in.”
My butt is stroked, his presence behind me—comforting. And nice. And hot.
“I think baking might be my new thing too.” His voice is rough but tinged with humor. He’s been like this all afternoon. Touching, laughing, helping. Not at all bothered by the mess I’ve made of his kitchen or my occasional flinch when his touch catches me off guard.
I straighten in his hold, my back pressed against his bare chest. He lost the shirt the second we walked through the door.
I’m not complaining.
Still in my pajama shorty shorts and a white tank, I rest my head back on his shoulder, my gaze flicking to the huge clock hanging on the charcoal accent wall of the kitchen. It’s already seven o’clock. The sun’s low in the sky, casting the kitchen in a warm, orange glow through the floor to ceiling windows in the living room. “Thank you for helping me.” My hands drop to cover his when they wrap around my waist. “You can still make it to the end of the party if you don’t mind leaving me here to finish up. I told Kenzi we’d come if we can … I can’t, but you can.”
His lips trail up the side of my neck, his nose pressing into my hair. “Or I could just stay here, and we can make naked pies.”
A laugh bursts from me as I turn in his hold. His hands slide over my ass, his chest expanding when I tickle my fingers over his pecs to his shoulders. “By the time this batch is done, and I’ve packed up and taken them to the hotel the party will be done. You should go.” I glance back at the pies covering almost every surface of Felix’s kitchen and the mess I’ve still to clean up. “There’s no reason for you to miss the whole thing too.”
“I’m looking at my reason.” The dimple in his cheek flickers, his gaze dropping to my lips then lower still before lifting to meet my stare again. “Besides, you’ve got chocolate on your top. I should probably stay and help you with that.”
I lean back and examine my tank. Sure enough there’s a big blob of chocolate filling right down the front. I shake my head, my teeth sinking into my lower lip when I return my attention to Felix’s raised brows. “What did you have in mind?”
“You. Me. Shower.”
I watch him out of the corner of my eyes, barely managing to fight the grin trying to take over my face. He’s driving my truck, one arm resting out of the open window, the other on the wheel, the warm night air ruffling his black curls.
We’ve just dropped the pies at the hotel. And all I can say is—thank God for delivery entrances.
If Simon was surprised at my newly appointed pie delivery guy, or the fact I was wearing a man’s button-down shirt as a dress, he hid it well.
I tuck my foot under myself on the bench seat and twist to face Felix as far as my seatbelt will allow. “Thank you for today. You’ve no idea how much it means to me.”
His dimple appears when he glances my way, the angles of his face dimly lit in orange by the passing streetlights as we head out of town towards my place. “If baking days always end up with you naked, then you, lady, have got yourself an assistant for life.”
A flash of him carrying me through to his gray, stone-tiled shower and washing every inch of me fires my cheeks up to dangerous temperatures.
We nearly let the pies burn.
I press my palms to my face and let out some sort of breathy laugh. “It’s been a good day.”
“Best I’ve had in a long time.”
His rough voice curling around his words in that sexy-ass Cluan lilt keeps my grin stretched across my face. “Me too.”
We pull up my drive, and I puff out a sigh when he cuts the engine. I’m not ready for today to be over.
I’ve got it bad.
The nerves and unease I usually feel at the mere thought of growing attached to a man—to anyone don’t appear. Not even a little bit.
“I think I like you, Felix Ashur.” The words are out before I can stop them. My eyes pop and I moosh my lips together to stop anything else from escaping. “I … I mean…”
“Well, Laia…” A crease appears between his eyebrows and a bemused smile lifts one side of his mouth. “Laia…?”
“You don’t know my last name?” This time I definitely snort. “You’ve seen me naked, and you don’t know my last name?”
He unclips his seat belt and pins me with a smirk so filled with humor and sexy and all the things I’m really growing to like about him and holds out his hand. “I think it’s time we were officially introduced, don’t you?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not sure we’re there yet.”
“I’ve been inside you, Laia. We’re there.”
“Cavana,” I blurt out and slide my hand into his before my cheeks just give in and explode all over the cab. “My name is Laia Cavana.”
His fingers tighten around mine and he pulls me to him, his other hand lifting to cup the side of my neck. “Nice to meet you, Laia Cavana.”
“Yeah … you too.”
“I need to get to the bar for a bit, but I can come back.” He brushes my hair behind my ear and happy flips in my chest, spreading right to the tip of my nose. “Or you can come with?”
I shake my head. “Do you mind if I don’t?”
“Nope.” He kisses me lightly. “I’ll be an hour, tops.”
This feels good and right. I feel good and right.
“Okay.” I lift my chin and press another kiss to his lips.
“Okay.” He grins, and I swear it’s almost as goofy as mine.
