Chapter Twenty
August unlocked the back door of Sugar Blitz Two and held the door open for Sloane. Because he was a glutton for punishment, he deliberately took in a lungful of her scent as she passed by. Though they’d cleaned up after their little contest, he could still smell the sugar and frosting on her. It mixed deliciously with the honey scent from her lotion. He’d watched like a lovesick fool as she’d smoothed it on her arms during the drive over.
He followed her down the hall.
“Now that I’ve won our contest because I’m the better baker, we need to discuss what’s next with our social media campaign.”
With a sigh, August sat in one of the chairs he’d put together yesterday.
Sloane continued, clearly undeterred by his lackluster response. “I have some ideas on how to capitalize on your popularity to make sure this location is a success.” She nodded decisively. He instantly went on guard. While he appreciated her assertiveness and go-get-it-ness, he was wary when that focus was turned his way.
A dangerous smile curved her lips. “We should make a TikTok.”
He jumped up. “Or we should not.”
She waved away his objection. “I’m sure there’s a dance going around we could learn.”
His blood ran colder than the ice in Antarctica. “I’m sure there’s a chance I will never do it.”
She made a sound of sympathy and patted him on the arm. “I know there’s a stigma in our community about not having rhythm, but we’re not a monolith. If you don’t have rhythm, it’s okay. It’s a little embarrassing, but I can keep a secret.”
“I have rhythm,” he growled.
Her face blanked. She licked her lips, her eyes sweeping up and down his body. Where had her mind gone? Was she thinking about their kiss and other ways he could demonstrate rhythm? Ways they could find rhythm together?
He dragged in a breath and slowly exhaled. “Sloane.”
She jumped, then cleared her throat. Her gaze focused on him again. “I’m just kidding, dude. You’re so easy.”
“Oh. Okay.” He needed a distraction from this conversation. Oh, look. He needed to finish hanging a sconce. He moved toward a wall and picked up the lamp.
Sloane followed him. “What I’m not kidding about is doing an Instagram Live.”
Grimacing, he whirled to face her. She was close, as close as earlier when they’d… Wait. No. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. They were talking about him doing something that sounded wholly unpleasant. So he would think about that instead. “Why would I do an Instagram Live? I’m not entirely sure what that is, but it sounds horrible.”
His scowl deepened when a laugh slipped past her lips. She did a piss-poor job of disguising it by coughing. She held up a hand. “Sorry. No more laughing. An Instagram Live is a live video chat on Instagram. You broadcast live from your account and your followers can watch you doing whatever you’re doing as you do it.” She side-eyed him. “And you know that already. You’re just stalling.”
True, but he saw no reason to admit it. Instead, he cleared his throat and gave the nail that was already securely screwed into the wall another whack with his hammer for good measure. “I ask again, why would I do an Instagram Live?”
“At the risk of reigniting the same argument we’ve been having for the past few days and repeating myself, might I remind you that you agreed on recording your involvement in the renovation. You also said you’d do what I recommended after I won the baking contest.”
“The contest was rigged.” Was he being an ass? Yes. Did he care? No.
She moved between him and the wall, bringing that delectable body of hers way too close for his peace of mind. As always, she smelled like all his hopes and dreams come true. And he’d told her kissing her was a mistake. Why had he done that? Another mistake in a long line of mistakes when it came to Sloane Dell. If he had the time and a little privacy, he’d bang his head against the wall.
She narrowed her eyes as her lips parted. “I’m going to assume what you actually meant to say when you stated that blatant mistruth was ‘You’re right, Sloane. Please continue.’ And I’m also going to ignore that scowl. Even though you and your partners haven’t decided what to do with the other buildings yet, the residents are still fired up and they’re not going to be satisfied with a simple ‘wait and see’ answer. We need to respond to the protestors and their petition in some way now.”
She was so fucking sexy when she was demonstrating her smarts. He took a half step back, just to give him some space to breathe. To try to think clearly.
She held up a hand. “Yes, the town hall was great, but a lot of the people there were distracted, and the ones who were really worked up are outside protesting as we speak.” Her voice, the look on her face, became earnest. “Yes, it’s only four people, but people are walking by and taking notice. Tomorrow, it could be five, then ten again. We need to do more to get ahead of the story and control the narrative.”
August stifled a groan. Sloane being right meant suffering for him. “By hosting a news conference on Instagram?”
Her eyes widened in unabashed glee. “Ooh, we could do that.”
His stomach dropped to the wooden floor.
Smiling, she patted him on the arm. “Kidding again. That’s a terrible idea.”
If he didn’t want to kiss her again, he’d kill her. “My ego and I thank you.”
She waved her hand. “You’re fine.”
“I am? Why, thanks.”
She squinted. “Are you engaging in word play, trying to get me to say you’re fine? ’Cause I’m not going to do it.”
Time for some payback. Shake her up a little like she did to him on the regular. “I wasn’t, but it’s nice to see where your mind immediately went to. Do you think I’m fine?”
She balled her hands into fists, closed her eyes for a second, and drew in a deep breath before leveling him with a no-more-bullshit glare. “You thought you successfully distracted me. You thought. Back to our discussion. The IG Live won’t be a press conference. It’ll be a chance for you to highlight what you’re doing in the store and what’s to come. I’ll throw a few softball questions at you, people will be happy to see SugarBae and be absolutely appalled that anyone’s against you spreading joy and happiness with cupcakes in this neighborhood. Win-win.”
She beamed, clearly pleased with her little speech. That made one of them.
“Except for the part where I talk as little as possible, and I don’t like cameras in my face.”
“Yes, this is true, but that’s why I’m there. To keep the conversation going and give you something, or in my case, someone other than the phone camera to focus on.”
She was right in one regard. Focusing on Sloane had never been an issue. She was beautiful, her hands waving, eyes shining bright with her idea. She lived for this. And he lived for…
“Fine. But I’m only doing it for five minutes.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Let’s play it by ear. I’m in charge, remember.”
Saying no to Sloane Dell had never been his strong suit, but he was going to gird his loins and keep the Live as close to five minutes as possible. Sweat had already started to preemptively bead on his forehead and palms, and they weren’t even doing anything. He set the hammer on the floor before he dropped it on his foot.
He just needed to play it cool. Fake the funk for a few minutes, that’s all.
Sloane reached for his hand and squeezed before letting go quickly. Gazed at him with concerned eyes. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
He sighed. So much for his Oscar-winning turn as Cool August. He balled his hand into a fist, missing the brief connection. Missing their longer, more heated connection from earlier.
“I thought it would be a quick, fun way to connect with fans and show them how Sugar Blitz will be an asset to the community without you actually having to speak publicly. But making you miserable isn’t part of the plan.”
Get it together, man. “You’re right. I’m nervous. There’s no point in lying about that, but I’ll be okay.” He’d gotten himself into this mess. It was his responsibility to get out of it. Somehow.
She still looked unconvinced, so he continued, “Hey, if things go left, we can always end the Live abruptly, undoubtedly leading to wild speculation on social media about what happened and increasing overall interest in the shop.”
Her eyes widened, and she excitedly lifted on her toes. “Ooh, maybe we should try that.” Her grin and the heels of her sneakers fell when she noticed the look on his face. “Or maybe not.”
Sloane peeked at August out of the corner of her eye as she pretended to fiddle with the camera settings. The panic in his eyes had subsided, but she still wasn’t sure this was the best course of action. Social media was her thing, not his. She could come up with another idea to circumvent the protestors’ message. It wasn’t like the detractors had gotten very far with their petition. Maybe she should chill. Even if that went against her nature. It wasn’t like her to just wait for the other shoe to drop. She took action. Made shit happen.
“I’m fine, Sloane. You can stop worrying about me,” he said from where he’d resumed using a leveler to find the studs in the wall. How did he do that—know what she was thinking and what was going on around him without her saying a word? It was his superpower.
“I know. I just—” Her words flittered away to nothing as her mind blanked when his massive palms landed on her unsuspecting shoulders.
He squeezed. “I’m fine.”
She nodded and stared at his shirt because talking was beyond her at the moment. It shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t even touching her. He was touching the cotton of her shirt. There was no skin-to-skin contact. Didn’t matter. She felt like she’d been scalded. Thank God, he didn’t seem to notice.
“Really,” he added when she didn’t respond.
He stilled as though he finally recognized the instance for the momentous occasion it was. He dropped his hands to his sides. All she could hear was the loud beat of her heart in her ears. They were standing close, so close she could count his individual eyelashes. She’d always been jealous of his thick eyelashes. She could count the whiskers that lined his ridiculous cheekbones and jawline. And his mouth? It was right there, his full lips moving as he continued to reassure her he wasn’t going to pass out live on Instagram.
Earlier, when he’d been so emphatic about having rhythm, her mind had swan-dived into the gutter like she was an Olympic gold medalist diver. Reasons for why they couldn’t, shouldn’t happen had flown out of her mind. And she was doing it again. Ways to convince him that the kiss was a great idea crowded her brain. But no, she couldn’t. He’d rejected her twice now. There wouldn’t be a third time. Giving a man a chance to hurt her again—like August had done, like Jim had done, like her father had done—was nowhere in her life plan.
She stared into his mesmerizing eyes that radiated nothing but honesty and kindness.
But what if… what if this time was different? What if he’d been surprised by the kiss and didn’t really think it was a mistake?
What if he was the person she could trust? What if he was the person she could be vulnerable with? What if he was the person who could be a genuine partner to her?
What if, what if, what if. Scary, scary questions that she wasn’t ready to seek answers to.
Sloane drew in a stuttering breath and stepped away. “Okay. You need to change.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
She waved at his red-and-black T-shirt. “It’s cool that you’re repping the Knights today, but during the Live, you need to rep Sugar Blitz. It’s easy promo.”
His face cleared. “Oh. Okay. I’ll be back.” He turned with unnatural grace for someone of his size and headed to the back of the store.
Sloane sucked in a lungful of August-less air. She ignored how empty the room seemed without his presence. She went back to fiddling with the settings on the camera while her brain continued to whirl. It took her a while to realize it had been more than a few minutes since August had disappeared. What was going on? He’d been the one reassuring her he was up for this. Was he okay? What if he wasn’t?
She hurried to his office and knocked on the door. When no answer was forthcoming, she opened the door. And immediately forgot how to think or breathe.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Alert, alert! August Hodges was not wearing a shirt.
Her greedy eyes inhaled the wall of delicious flesh that defined his magnificent back. Muscles rippled in perfect synchronized motion as he lifted his arm. Scrumptious, delicious brown skin her lips and tongue longed to taste. Dampness instantly settled between her legs.
She must have made a whimper full of intense hunger, or maybe he just sensed he was no longer alone—and she was going to go with the second, less embarrassing option—because he turned. Holy fuck! The front was better than the back. He was a professional athlete who took his fitness seriously (even though he owned a cupcake shop franchise), so she shouldn’t be shocked by how fucking good he looked. But it was one thing to be intellectually aware of something and another to be confronted with it up close and personal. A quick perusal registered an eight-pack. A trail of hair bisected his abs and led to… She jerked her eyes upward.
His eyebrows lifted. “Sloane?”
His tone was amused. No doubt her tongue was hanging out her mouth like a dog eagerly tracking the bowl of water its parent carried.
Dignity. She needed to find it, and soon. She lifted a hand as he reached for the teal Sugar Blitz polo on his desk. Let a mocking, flirty smile spread across her lips. “Please stop on my behalf.”
He shot her a look. “I do so appreciate being treated like a piece of meat.”
The finest, rarest cut of beef. Filet mignon. Dignity, Sloane. “What’s taking you so long? Everything okay in here?”
“Yeah, sorry. Nicholas called to tell me I left the pans in the wrong spot this morning. I told him to go to hell.”
His torso remained uncovered, making it extremely difficult to concentrate on his words. Dignity, Sloane . She replayed the last few seconds through her head and forced out a laugh like she was supposed to.
Finally, he lifted the shirt above his head and slipped his head through. Sloane silently cried “nooo” as his wonderful brown, toned skin was covered up inch by merciless inch.
“How do I look?” he asked.
Like someone she wanted to jump and have her wicked way with. But no, that was the incorrect answer and not the one he was expecting or wanted. Right. She needed to get it together. She took a more objective, less lusty inspection of him. The teal popped against his brown skin. His jeans were perfectly worn in. He was handsome as ever. His locs were pulled back in his customary ponytail, which served to highlight his sharp cheekbones. He looked comfortable and casual. Approachable. Attractive as fuck. Very August.
“Great. The camera’s gonna love you.”
She should know.