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THIRTEEN
SHAWN
I’m not sure what alternate universe I’m living in, but I like it. This is one where I have a boyfriend, but can I call him that? Because he’s almost forty years old, and he’s a man’s man… nothing about him is a boy.
But he bought me a diner burger and fries along with an iced coffee after not only an amazing night together but an equally amazing quickie in my bakery. Something that I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to do, but it felt amazing while doing it.
I want to ask him what all of this means. He mentioned something about protection, and I really liked the way he made that sound, but was that just an in-the-heat-of-the-moment thing, or was it real? But I don’t because I don’t want him to think that I’m immature and needy, so I tamp down all my questions.
“I got some work to do down at the clubhouse this afternoon and evening. Why don’t you pack a bag? Stay with me.”
His suggestion catches me off guard, and I blink as I stare at him, unsure of what to say or do. Meanwhile, inside, I’m screaming. I’ve never done this before. Never had a real boyfriend as an adult. Never had much of one as a teenager, either.
This feels fast. But then again, I didn’t even go on a real date, and I slept with him… more than once, even after I said that I wouldn’t, so I guess that is fast. I wonder offhandedly if that makes me a slut. I feel like it probably does, but at the same time, it’s not like I’ve done this with anyone else before, so maybe not. Then I decide that I don’t even care. So what if doing what I did, if being with this man, makes me that? I like the way he makes me feel, not just physically but also on the inside—all over.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
His lips twitch into a smirk, and he clears his throat. “Babe, I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there. I don’t just say shit to say it.”
“Are you telling me that I’ll always know where I stand with you?” I ask.
He lets out a laugh, and my own lips curve up into a grin, loving the sound of his deep, gruff laughter as it fills my little girlie bakery. “Yeah, sweetness. You’ll always know where you stand, and right now, you’re standing exactly where I want you.”
Then he slides his hand down my throat and my shoulder and wraps his arm around my back, hauling me so that my chest is smashed against his.
“Now you’re standing exactly where I want you,” he murmurs, touching his mouth to mine. “And when you’re on the back of my bike, you’ll be sitting exactly where I want you. And then, when you’re spread out naked for me in my bed, you’ll be lying exactly where I want you.”
His words make me melt into a whole pile of goo right there on the bakery floor. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I shift my head backward slightly and look up into his eyes, searching them before I smile.
“Then that’s where I’ll be.”
It’s the most daring thing I think I’ve ever said, although I seem to be saying and doing many things that I wouldn’t normally do when it comes to this man. He touches his mouth to mine in a brush of a kiss, then he straightens and takes a step backward.
“You need any help closing down for the night?”
Glancing around, I shake my head. I already cleaned up everything that my mother’s chaos created. “I can be closed down and locked up in about twenty minutes.”
“I have a phone call to make. I’ll meet you right outside the door.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He releases me, then turns and walks out of my bakery, his hand digging in his pocket for his phone. I watch him as he unlocks the door, then slips outside, standing on the sidewalk.
For a moment, I don’t move, listening to his deep voice outside my bakery even though I can’t make any of the words out. I don’t know why, but just hearing his voice, even muffled through the closed door, makes my entire body break out in a shiver.
My spine straightens, and I start to get to work closing everything down. I make sure that my ovens are off and that my cakes are placed in boxes. It’s kind of sad I didn’t get many finished today. Not even my snickerdoodles.
Placing all the cupcakes into boxes, I decide to take them down to the clubhouse place. They seemed to like my baking, and it’s not like these are even going to ever be sold anyway. When I’m finished, I look around the shop, taking everything in and checking the boxes in my head of my close-down procedure before I move toward the front door.
Opening it, I slip outside and frown at the sight of Elvis pacing. He’s moving up and down the sidewalk in front of a building that is next door. I know it’s empty, as are a lot of the places down here.
They’re trying to reinvent the downtown area, which means I got a steal on my rent, but I’m afraid that the cost is no business. This means the steal on my rent isn’t going to matter in a few weeks when I can’t afford to actually pay it.
He must sense my presence because he doesn’t say another word. Instead, he shoves his phone into his pocket, then turns to look at me. I’m standing in front of him, holding my two bakery boxes full of cupcakes and wearing a smile.
“You ready?”
Nodding, I move toward him a few steps before he closes the distance between us quickly, whisking the boxes from my hands before he walks down the street and toward my apartment. I follow him, still wanting to pinch myself to ensure that this is real. That I’m not asleep or anything.
Once we’re in front of my apartment, he tugs the door open, standing to the side to let me pass. I can still feel the ache from him between my legs, and in some sick way, I think I want to always feel this way. I like it. In fact, it makes me feel sexy… or maybe that’s just the way he makes me feel.
