Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
MIKAEL
Dinner was cooked to perfection. I feed Kenzie wine from my lips and steak from my fork. We filled our stomachs and it turned out it was an incredible foreplay. I’m elated that we ended the night making love in my bed.
The kitchen is a disaster area, but I don't care. I like the fact that it's not perfect, and I relish my time with Kenzie.
Morning greets us with a chill in the air.
“I don't want to get up,” I state. I glide my hand through her long tresses. She's gorgeous even though she just woke up.
“I don't either,” she mumbles as she nuzzles into me.
Her voice is soft and endearing. I love listening to her.
She's modest, and I'm sure she thinks she's never good enough. I see her eye for detail when she works. Her counters are clean, and the showcases are perfect. I hope I did a good job baking while she slept yesterday. She had bags under her eyes. I'm sure she was tired, but the power outage was concerning. After I made it into the pros, I didn't have to sweat expenses. Her car is old but looks dependable. The only things she complains about are my dates.
But in her defense, I share her opinion, even if I don't admit it to her.
Her hair smells like strawberries, and her skin—vanilla.
“Then let's take advantage of the fact that we're both here,” I murmur, running my hand down her body.
I pull her onto my hard cock, and she rides me to within an inch of my life. Needless to say, we didn't get much sleep last night. I could get used to this. It just feels so right.
I've never been so consumed by a woman.
But Kenzie isn't just any woman.
She's mine.
“What time is it?” she asks as the sun breaks through clouds and bathes us with warm rays.
“Six. Why?”
“Oh my God. We have to go. We have to load the car, I need to call Bo and see how Sherlock is doing. I wonder if the store has electricity. Oh my God, if it doesn't have power, I'm sunk.” Her rapid-fire to-do list overwhelms me.
This is Kenzie. I admire her work ethic. She's a multitasker, and she worries too much. I'm sure she answers questions all day long in the shop, and now that she's in charge, she's probably overly stressed. She’s cautious, but I get it; it's a necessary step.
I leap out of bed. “Don't panic. Let's shower. It will be a long day. We can get there in an hour. Is that reasonable?” I manage the situation to the best of my abilities.
“Sure,” she agrees against her better judgment. If I weren't here, she'd be flying out the door and driving too fast for the snowy roads. I walk to the window, and snowplows have already cleared my street.
“Road is clear. Do you have an app to check the power outage at the shop?” I ask.
“Mm. Let me see,” she picks her phone up and fiddles with it. “Yes!” she screams, scaring the shit out of me. She pumps her fist in the air, and it's a memory that will stick with me forever. “I have power! Hurray.” She leaps out of bed, stands on her toes, and gives me a celebratory kiss. “It's happening today!”
It's a relief for both of us. I care because she worked so hard and has spent money on the event. The fact I'm her benefactor is irrelevant.
She's all smiles as I warm the shower water.
“What will I wear? I can't go in your shirt.”
“You can,” I smirk. I pull her to me.
“That will be cute for the press.” She frowns.
“Fine. We'll swing by your place. Besides, I want to see Sherlock.”
“Oh. I know. I miss him. I've never been away from him overnight.”
“Well, he's welcome here anytime.”
She appears to be mulling this over.
“Really?”
“I said I love dogs.” We enter the shower.
“Yeah. But you have expensive leather couches that will have an inch of dog hair on it a mile deep in a matter of days.”
“The maid will come by a few times a week.”
“And he needs a fenced yard, and he sleeps with me.”
“I can do that; however, you sleep with me. He can sleep on the end of the bed, not between us.” I can't believe I'm negotiating terms for living together.
What the fuck happened to me?
The water calms Kenzie into a milder frenzy. The grand opening occupies her thoughts. She's rattling off a list of things to do as soon as we arrive at the shop.
I lift the natural, mint-scented soap and run it over her arms. She pulls her hair up, and I turn her so I can soap her back. I have a hand on her hip, and my hand makes its way around her body. Her alabaster skin is smooth.
“My turn,” she says, taking the soap from me.
She scrubs my back and front and splashes my face.
“What?”
“You're handsome.”
“Thank you. You're beautiful.”
She blushes and turns away.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Turn away from me when I give you a compliment.”
“I'm not pretty.”
“Yes. You are. Why do you say that?”
“My grandmother used to say I was pretty. I don't see it.” She shrugs.
“Well, she was right.” I slide my fingers under her chin and force her to look at me. “You're beautiful,” I say slowly. She tries to pull away as the water cascades over us.
“I'm not.”
“Say it.”
“I'm beautiful.”
“Was that so terrible?”
“I guess not.”
“Good. Where is your grandmother?”
“She passed away a few years ago. I miss her.”
“And your mother?”
“She's not that supportive. My grandmother was on my father's side. Daddy died in a car accident when I was five. Mom remarried. He's not a nice person. He has moments, but then he acts like a jerk. Let's just say I'll never go home. That's why the shop has to succeed. I can't return home.”
“Did he abuse you?”
“He likes to put us down. He's controlling and irrational.”
“I'm sorry.”
“It happens.” I turn the water off and step out to grab a towel for her. I wrap her in it and towel myself off.
“What about your parents? You said you grew up on a farm in Wisconsin. How was that?”
“Great. We weren't rich, but we didn't go without.”
“Are you close to your brothers?”
“Yes. One plays in the pros too.”
“Wow. I didn't know that. Don't you want to have a son one day to play hockey too?”
“I suppose every man kinda does. But it's not a deal breaker. Kids can come about in a number of ways.”
“True.” She quietly makes her way into the bedroom and dresses in her jeans, bra, and my shirt. “You wouldn't mind adopting?”
I tug on jeans and a pullover. I pull military-style boots over my winter socks.
“I'm open.”
“You said the news station is sending someone over today?”
“Yes. I hope they still come!”
“As long as the roads are clear, they should.” Kenzie follows me down the stairs. “I'd make coffee, but mine sucks compared to yours.”
“That's okay. Let me load up the vehicles, and then we can go see Sherlock.”
“I'll help.”
“Okay.” I nod and grab my car keys. We both grab boxes of cupcakes and head into the freezing garage.
“Wow. What is that?” she asks.
“That's my frosted Range Rover.” I head to the vehicle and open the trunk. We slide the baked goods in.
“It's gorgeous.”
“Can Sherlock jump into it?”
“Doubtful,” she murmurs. She peers over the back seat and checks out the interior. “This is amazing,” she coos.
I don't know why it means so much to me that she approves of my vehicle, but it warms my heart to know she's impressed. I slide into the driver's seat wearing a grin.
I open the garage door and start the car, turning the seat heaters and heat on.
“Would you think I'm ostentatious if I told you I have a Lambo?” I say as we head back into the house for more boxes.
Her eyes are as large as saucers. “The car?”
“Yeah,” I drawl it out, uncertain of the outcome.
“I think it's great. I mean, if you can afford it.”
“Yeah, I can.”
“You work hard. You deserve it. I don't care how much I'm paid. No one is shooting a 100 MPH hockey puck at my head!”
I have a gut-felt laugh. She's adorable. I love how frank she is with everything. I doubt she'd hide her displeasure if she disagreed with me, and I can live with that. I welcome it. I don't want to be placated because I'm a hockey star.
When the vehicle is packed, I drive to her apartment. Sherlock and Bo greet us at the door.
Kenzie hugs Bo before Sherlock.
“What's the status?” Bo asks.
“The power is on and today is my grand opening!” Kenzie exclaims.
“It is. Hi, Mikael,” Bo says.
“Bo, good to see you.” I hug her before I kneel and greet Sherlock. He prances with excitement and his tail whips through the air. I pet him, and he leans into my hand for more.
“I posted to social media. The streets are empty,” Bo says with concern. “I don't know...”
“It's fine. I'll be happy if we sell half of what we baked!” Kenzie exclaims as she ducks into her room to change.
“I’ll following you to the shop,” Bo says. “I fed and walked Sherlock,” she says at the door.
“Thank you so much for taking care of him,” Kenzie shouts from her bedroom.
“No problem,” Bo replies, and she gives Kenzie a side-eye when she re-enters the room. I assume the look implies details will be requested at a later time.
I chuckle. I happen to know women's “speak.”
Kenzie gives Sherlock one last hug, and we leave together.
“The roads are clear. Do you think anyone will be out today?” I detect her concern.
“I'm sure it will work out. People are probably stir-crazy and want to get out,” I reassure her.
Which reminds me, it's Valentine's Day.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Kenzie.”
Her cheeks turn red, and she deflects her attention to the windshield.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. Then, she turns to me. “Happy Valentine's Day, Mikael. I've never had someone for Valentine’s Day before.”
“Me, either. I guess it's a first for both of us.”
“I guess so,” she smiles.
I park in front of the shop, and Bo helps us unload as Kenzie opens the door.
“I'm turning ovens on to make fresh croissants. It will also fill the bakery with the buttery goodness,” she announces.
“Great. I'm hungry!” I chuckle as I stack boxes of sweets on the counter.
“Me, too,” Bo says.
“Great.”
Bo makes coffee, and Kenzie disappears in the back. I locate the ice sculpture and hold the door of the freezer as an employee uses a machine to move it to a decorated cart. He then wheels it to the main room. Heart balloons are on every table, and it reminds me of the first Sweetheart dance—the one my parents made me attend. There are sweet tarts in heart-shaped bowls on each tabletop. I take pictures of the shop.
“I'm posting to social media,” I tell Bo.
“That's sweet of you. If anyone can get people here, it's you.” She gives me a smile that conveys she approves of me being with Kenzie.
I feel like I belong in their world, and I'm honored.
I upload photos, paste the address, and ask people to follow the shop's social media.
I ask Kenzie what I can do, but she's busy directing the staff dressed in red shirts and blue jeans.
I smell croissants, and Bo and I step behind the counter to make breakfast sandwiches so we can eat before the doors open.
I text Finn, Simon, and some of the others to stop by and bring friends.
But deep down inside, I know I don’t deserve Kenzie. And that us being together is too good to be true.