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All I can do is laugh. Baking here with him is way more fun than alone in my apartment.
After a while the housekeeper threw her hands in the air and said she’d come back later to clean up. That’s wrong though.
We made the mess, so we’ll be the ones to scrub her kitchen back to the way the spotless room was before his shenanigans.
Now it’s just the two of us left with gingerbread, sugar, shortbread, snickerdoodle, and pecan coconut cookies lining parchment paper spread across every available surface. Good thing they have a gigantic kitchen.
I grab the spatula and lift a few of the first ones we’ve baked to ensure they’re cool. If I put them in the tins while they’re still hot, they’ll stick together. I glance at Melchior, who’s scraping a spoon through the mixing bowl to eat the remnants of raw batter. “Do you have any bread?”
“Why?’
The word is garbled from his full mouth, and I can’t help but laugh because he’s a grown man who acts like a kid. “Because if you put a slice in with the cookies, they stay fresh longer.”
He nods in approval. “Genius.”
Once every trace is gone, he ambles to the pantry and grabs a loaf. We work together filling the containers. Well, I create the layers while he keeps popping treats into his mouth and moaning, making me giggle.
“What are you doing tonight?”
His question surprises me. “I don’t know. Balthazar and Gaspar haven’t said anything yet.”
“Good. Then you can come watch me.”
Although I’m not attracted to him in that way, the thought of watching him with another man again shoots my pulse up like a fever. I really have turned into a pervert.
“You’re blushing.”
I tip my head down so he can’t see how much. “I know.”
He chuckles like he realizes what I’m thinking. Hopefully not. But probably so.
“I’ve got a fight tonight and I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Thank goodness. I steer my focus back to non-sexual thoughts. “You’re a boxer?”
“Kind of. It’s MMA, so anything goes.”
Pretending I know what he’s talking about, I nod.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not really.”
His laughter warms me. Just like hanging out with a good friend, having fun, and celebrating the season should.
He swipes another gingerbread man before I snap the lid shut.
“It’s mixed martial arts. So punching, kicking, whatever it takes to get your opponent down and tapping out.”
The description seems so simple for something that is obviously dangerous.
“Okay, now you’re frowning. Never play poker. You wear all of your feelings on your face.”
“Well I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”
“Aww, you just met me, and you already care about me.”
I know he’s kind of teasing me, but the sentiment is true. I do like him.
