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How odd she sat there having a full-blown conversation with Jaxson and it hadn’t bothered her once. Hell, she hadn’t even realized she was naked sitting there. It had felt natural.
Slamming her head back against the pillow, she groaned.
What was going on?
What was this man doing to her?
Easy. He was showing her what love could be like, something she’d never fully experienced before.
11
His brother had inherited the talent of making magic with his hands—building stuff, anyway. Jaxson had inherited the other version of magic with his hands.
Baking.
He loved to bake.
He preferred to bake over cooking. Of course, he cooked most nights. A meal for one. Because why eat out all the time when he knew how to cook.
He wasn’t prepared to divulge his secret anytime soon to anyone. When he brought in snacks to work, like cupcakes or cookies, he never told anyone he actually baked it. He’d never hear the end of it. Being teased as a kid for doing something girly—as most kids put it—wasn’t a pleasant memory he liked to revisit. Who knew how his coworkers would react, so he never admitted the truth. Oh, boy, there were times some of them would not get off his back about where he bought the treats. Joke was on them. Not store-bought.
He had never even told Gabby, and he wasn’t completely sure why. Well, sure, in the beginning, it was because he didn’t know her well and if she’d dish out any teasing. It was embarrassing sometimes when people laughed that he enjoyed baking. He’d dated one woman who thought it odd and disturbing—yeah, she used that word with him—that he liked making cakes, cupcakes, and cookies. He had been flabbergasted when she said it straight to his face. He figured women would like a man who knew their way around the kitchen. Of course, he should’ve known something was up when they went out on their first date and she nitpicked every single thing on the menu. She didn’t eat sugar or carbs—or meat. Made it very difficult to order anything. The poor waiter had gotten a double tip that night for the verbal abuse he’d endured from her. Yeah, that definitely should’ve been a wake-up call to not venture to a second date.
Still, he should’ve in the last nine years of being friends with Gabby at least leaked his secret on his desire to bake. He wouldn’t say he did it all the time. But sometimes, especially super stressful days where he needed to wipe everything out of his mind—the gruesome scene of a dead body—he baked. He found it hilarious nobody—not even Gabby—had picked up on the fact he usually brought in sweets the day after a hard case hit his desk. Or maybe they had, and they just hadn’t figured out he was the one creating the decadent treats.
But that was all over with—keeping a secret that shouldn’t be a secret. It was silly to hold it back from his friends. But what could he say other than the fact sometimes things in a person’s childhood affected them a lot harder than a person could ever anticipate.
He knew Mia understood that sentiment.
Today, Mia would be the first to find out, and if she just so happened to tell Gabby, who spread the word everywhere else, then so be it. He was done hiding his enjoyment of baking. Perhaps revealing a tiny part of himself that he hid from the world would help Mia embrace who she was and share her every secret.
Maybe she’d let him in—truly, deeply into her heart.
He tried to focus on the task at hand rather than the warm, luscious body under the spray of water. What he wouldn’t do to join her… Sure, he could’ve suggested it, or even finagled her out of bed and right into the shower without so much as speaking one word, but he wanted to give her space. Not too much space so she could change her mind, but enough to get her bearings back in order from a night he assumed she hadn’t intended to do.
One, they made plans and she never reneged on plans. Two, he’d never seen her drink so much in his life.
This was going to be a good day; he had a wonderful feeling about it. Considering he called out sick—sorry, Gabby—he planned to make it the best day ever. After Mia’s drunken night last night, he knew he couldn’t leave her alone today. They never had a chance to talk last night, and her alcohol escapade said enough. She was getting cold feet. Super-duper, about to fall off from her ankles, kind of cold.
He didn’t do things like this very often—call out sick—but sometimes, drastic measures needed to be taken. He had to show—and tell her as often as possible—how much he wanted this to work. That they could make this work.
It was going to be a very good day, indeed.
While he might enjoy baking, he was never very neat about it. Flour remnants sat on the counter near the bowl, and in other places it shouldn’t even be. He’d find her broom later. A few eggshells sat amongst the dirty pile while the rest made it into the garbage can. A folded paper towel sat near the microwave as he waited for the butter to melt, the spoon he used to scoop the butter sitting on it. He always did that with his spoons, using a paper towel to rest on, even though the other parts of the counter were as dirty as could be, because his mom always did and he picked up the habit from her. The messy part he didn’t obtain from her. She was as neat as a button.
Jaxson tried to be quick about everything, but also take his time so when the finished product was set before Mia she’d be dazzled by his skill. Maybe this wouldn’t impress her much. Maybe he made a huge deal about his love for baking when it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like he’d never cooked for his friends. He’d barbecued now and again. Made a chicken meal here and there. But those were normal guy things. Some guys could cook. But how many could bake? And like it?
Whatever. He would not worry about it. It was fine.
He whipped the ingredients with an ease that said he’d perfected his twirl of a whisk at a young age. He sure did.
Grateful Mia had everything he needed for waffles—although he could’ve turned it into pancakes if she hadn’t—he started the first batch in the maker.
He heard a noise coming from the hallway—the bathroom door if he wasn’t mistaken. It had a small creak at the halfway point of opening and closing the door. That meant he didn’t have much time.
He quickly prepared the rest of the best breakfast he had ever made, not wanting to ruin a moment of his surprise.
When he heard light shuffling sounds—Mia had heavy feet when wearing her slippers, something he’d noticed many times at Gabby’s—he paused at his task.
