Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
TINSLEY
H ow much do I love Aiden’s lips on me? From my knuckles to my wrist, to the smoosh on my lips, he’s made my belly swoop in the best way. It’s wonderful, delightful, all the -fuls. Aiden Fuller makes me feel full of something I’ve never before experienced from something so simple as a kiss.
Actually, there is nothing simple about his lips on mine right now. This goes beyond a peck or a smoosh. This is a full kiss. A proper one. The kind I wouldn’t describe to family or friends.
My stomach dips ever so briefly when I realize that I don’t have either of those. Not anymore. Not really.
But a little sound from Aiden’s throat draws my attention back. I do have this and him, for now. The tickle of his scruff forces me to focus. The way his hands tangle in my hair keeps me rooted to this moment.
I forget about the placement of my palms on the broad swath of his muscular back. I lose track of the gallop of my pulse against my ribs. The way my breath is shallow.
At this moment, all I can think about is him. This moment demands I focus on us and not me, me, me.
There’s a spark and crackling between us as hands and fingers rove. As breath comes shallow and heavy. As our mouths push and pull, deepening the kiss.
He presses against me and I curl into him. It’s like our bodies were molded for each other. He nibbles my lip and then releases it when we part. His eyes are heavy and meet mine. I sense they contain hearts, sparkles, and the unmistakable look of someone who’s been kissed senseless.
My lips feel puffy. My expression glazed over.
“Hi, you,” Aiden says, smoothing a piece of my hair between his fingers before dropping them to lace around mine.
“Hi,” I reply.
Our hands swing between us for a long moment as what just happened settles. If there were clouds, I think we’d both be floating on them right now.
Instead, the stars sparkle overhead in the night sky. One twinkles like it’s winking as if it caught us in the act. I wink right back.
Aiden takes a few steps toward the four-wheeler, our arms stretching between us. Then our fingers loosen and we let go.
“Goodnight,” he says as he gets on and the quad starts with a roar.
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
From what I’ve seen, Aiden easily shifts between a maverick biker dude, easy-going in slacks and a button-down shirt but hiding a prank behind his smile, a businessman in a well-tailored suit, and a hardworking guy who wants to help his town.
I don’t know what to make of him, other than that he’s Loki-like. A shapeshifter. A trickster. I just hope the joke isn’t on me.
The next morning at Sweethearts Bakery & Café, I put the napkins in the dispenser backward and win the prize for hashtag cake fails. It’s only my second day, but Rhondy had a last-minute cake order but couldn’t write the message on a heart-shaped cake because it hadn’t cooled before she had to head over to the diner.
She tasked me with printing two simple words Hug me . She told me a story about a couple who have an inside joke. Well, now they have a new one because their cake says Huge me.
What does that even mean? I don’t know.
Do I know how to spell the word hug ? Yes, I do.
Did I make the mistake because I was tired? Nope.
Distracted? Yep, by the epic kiss with Aiden last night.
There was nothing scripted about it, but if I were to write a kissing scene it would’ve been the perfect kiss. The one to send the audience atwitter. To give them the same swoop that I feel every time I think about it. The one that made me add an E at the end of the word Hug .
I do my very best to remove the offending letter. Then with a toothpick, I try to swirl the pink icing to hide the blemish. It looks like the cake has a pimple. A white head.
Letting out a long breath, I have to figure out a way to fix this. I pull out my phone and ask the internet. All I get is a long list of cake disasters instead of cake saves. At least I’m not the only one, but I can’t let laughter distract me too.
I go to the kitchen, looking for more icing. Could I make some?
The door in the front jingles, indicating there’s a customer. I hurry out, beading up with sweat. It’s only my second day. I can’t mess this up.
A young man with glasses stands at the counter. He has a pimple on his cheek that reminds me of a reverse dimple as he smiles. “You did it. This is perfect,” he says.
“It is?”
“Yes, she’s going to love this.”
“Really?” I’m about to point out the blunder, but with fresh eyes, it doesn’t stand out as badly as before. “Way better than I could’ve done. It’s perfect.”
“That’s great. Wow. I’m glad you like it,” I say, wondering if I should be fair and point out the mistake I tried to hide and give him a discount.
He pulls a picture of a cake out of his pocket drawn in crayon.
I tilt my head in confusion as he plunks it down.
He explains. “You see, originally, I made a cake but it turned out more like a hockey puck, or, and I quote, ‘the kind of thing that will require dental surgery after one bite.’ Not my best work. Anyway, I drew my girlfriend a picture of what I’d meant, but distracted, I added the letter E at the end of the word hug . Now, it’s kind of like an inside joke. But thankfully, this one will be edible.”
“That’s so romantic.” And maybe misspelling simple words like hug happens to people who’re in love.
After I ring him up, he leaves with a little bounce in his step.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” I holler, leaning back on the counter with relief.
The rest of the morning I experience several more close shaves but manage not to mess anything else up too bad—except I lock myself out of the register. Thankfully, Camellia picks up the shift after me. She’s all sunshine and smiles. After she gives me a tutorial on how to fix the register, Aiden saunters in.
My stomach has had a pretty regular swooping habit since he’s become part of my life, but after the kiss, it hits basement level before doubling back and shooting through the ceiling.
Take any damages out of my pay!
In reality, I don’t move, frozen to the spot. Camellia hides a smile like word of our hand-holding last night spread among the ladybosses. Or perhaps it’s down to the way he’s looking at me right now.
When I first arrived at the jail, I thought Aiden looked at me once, but not twice. I’m not used to being ignored. Overlooked. Actually, that’s not true at all when it comes to my family but not by men. Perhaps I was wrong because he sure seems to be looking...and likes what he sees.
As the day goes on and we’re doing our community service, I realize that he hasn’t stopped looking at me. Not when I emerged from Toby fresh this morning, when he picked me up at Sweethearts, or now when I’m already sweaty midafternoon from toiling at Bubba’s.
Today is what he called a demolition day. Bubba hung a handwritten sign that says, Pardone our mess. Renovations in progress.
I have to admit, I appreciate that extra E, and I appreciate Bubba. His wife is a lucky woman. His kids too. Today, two of them help us haul chunks of linoleum and hunks of wood to a dumpster that’s nearly as big as the building.
The kitchen remains open and we moved the picnic tables to the other side where Bubba has a window for orders. I’ll be the first to admit that clearing and cleaning are a lot easier than baking.
Bubba comes out with four cups with straws. The kids take a sip and go wild.
“Don’t tell Mama.”
I take a sip and taste Dr. Pepper. All of a sudden my eyes feel damp. While Aiden gives Bubba a progress update, I wander to the back of the restaurant. The kids run around in the field, already hopped up on sugar.
The nearly forgotten memory of the one time we visited my grandparents in Texas filters to me as if from a dream. I remember Mom was grumpy the whole time. Dad was busy with work stuff. My brothers and sister were older and wanted to be at the “cottage.” But our grandparents were thrilled at our visit.
The memory of their house is vague, but the fragments remind me a bit of Bubba’s BBQ. Well, before we tore into it today. In other words, modest. My grandmother had white hair and an apron to match. My grandfather was bowlegged and quiet.
They gave us each a can of Dr. Pepper. While my grandmother took in the laundry, I ran around in a field. I picked flowers. I helped her in the kitchen. My grandfather put me on a horse. I’d never been so happy as I was that day...until my mom flipped out about something and we left early the next morning.
I never saw them again, but know they passed away some years ago. The tears bubble up along with questions. I’ll probably never know much about my mother’s relationship with her mom and dad, but what’s wrong with me ? Why didn’t I ever call or visit them? Why is my family so dysfunctional?
I wipe my face and wander down to where the kids play. Taking one more sip of soda, I jump into their game of chase. While we run, the wind makes my hair tickle my neck, the sun shines in my eyes, and sweat pools on my skin, but I don’t care because the kids and I are laughing and smiling.
This is the answer—jumping into what matters. Not waiting for an invitation or expecting life to be one big shiny event. It’s this, right now.
As one of the kids chases me, something pings off my skin. It almost feels like a sting, a pricker. Then another.
The kids go still. So do I as a swarm of bees surrounds me.
“Dad,” one of them calls.
“Are you allergic?” the other whispers.
I don’t know. As the buzz builds in my ears, a vision of a swollen tongue and difficulty breathing replace my fear of hives like I get from tarragon. I don’t know if I’d have a reaction and would rather not find out.
Aiden and Bubba hustle down the hill toward me. But what can they do? How do you ward off a swarm of bees?
Closing my eyes and praying I don’t get stung, Bubba calls, “Don’t panic. Stay still.”
“I am,” I say through a clenched jaw.
“Just relax,” Aiden adds.
Easy for him to say. But the tension across my back, in my shoulders and neck, and all my muscles makes me feel like I might splinter, break apart like the wooden slats in the walls from the demo earlier.
Small, soft feet pad across my bare arms and legs. Are the bees preparing to eat me from the outside in? No, silly, they sting. They’re going to load me up with their venom. My thoughts start to spin away.
“Tinsley, breathe,” Aiden says.
I let out an exhale through clenched teeth and then relax my jaw. The drone in my ears gets quiet. I picture myself running in the field, laughing, smiling, and free. My entire body settles and I feel a strange connection to the earth like I have roots. The air fills my lungs and the sunshine warms my skin. I forget about chasing shiny things and social media and the unending hunger I’d tried to satisfy for years with things and people who don’t care about me. Instead, there’s light, filling me up. I’m floating but it’s not from an Aiden-induced swoop or because I was stung.
In the face of danger, it’s like I’ve come home to myself. The real me. Sweaty, scared, and sun-kissed.
The air fills with the faint scent of smoke, drawing my senses back to the surface. The bees buzz away.
I open my eyes and Aiden rushes over to me and places his hands all over me, inspecting for injury. “Were you stung?”
“No, surprisingly.”
“They must like you,” says Angie, one of the kids.
“Papa, why doesn’t Gramma keep the bees anymore?” says Billy, the other one.
“It got to be too much for her,” he answers with a hitch in his voice as he sets down a little contraption. He tells the kids the smoke from the device disorients the bees and is usually used directly in the hive for inspections.
“Pa, does that mean you don’t use this honey for the sauce now?” Billy asks.
Bubba’s eyes widen and he presses his finger to his lips in the universal symbol for be quiet .
Aiden and I exchange a look. I guess we now know the ingredient in the secret sauce.
“Maybe one of you can learn how to do it when you’re a little older. Gramma would love to teach you,” Bubba says to his son.
My jaw loosens and I say, “In the meantime, I could learn.”
All eyes shift to me.
With a little shrug, I add, “If your mother would teach me.”
Aiden looks me over then one of the kids says what everyone must be thinking. “I thought she was the fancy one. She seems pretty regular to me.”
“And she played with us,” Angie says.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay. I’ll talk with Ma and see what she says.”
“You sure?” Aiden asks me.
“Yeah, why not.” I’d like to learn a skill.
Aiden looks dubious but draws me into a tight hug, relieved I’m okay. “Let’s just hope it’s only tarragon that you’re allergic to.”
“So far so good.” I look over my arms and legs. I might consider myself lucky to not have been stung. But I think the luck comes with my sudden fascination with the insects and my interest in harvesting honey.
Over the next few days, I become obsessed with bees. After that first long day of demo, while Aiden went to his office, I headed to the library and took out a stack of books on apiculture . I learn about the history of beekeeping dating back thousands of years to modern apiaries or “bee yards.”
I also become obsessed with kissing Aiden. We have morning kisses, after work at Sweethearts kisses, and goodnight kisses, plus, a few in between.
Okay, there are a lot of in between smooshes—before and after meal smooshes. I just got the mail smooshes. I’m going to make a phone call smooshes. Really, “The Smoosh” is an all-purpose I can’t stay away from you form of expression.
My lips are bee-stung and I don’t mind. It’s cheaper and better than lip fillers.
As the days pass, I get to know Camellia and Louella Belle, but she’s mostly busy at ladyboss headquarters.
Bess pops in and gives an update, saying that Mae is very pregnant. I’d like to say working at the bakery gets easier. But maybe now I’m just distracted and intimidated because Rhondy signs me up to help in the kitchen.
On Wednesday, I add cayenne to a batch of muffins instead of cinnamon, have to scrap it, and start over. Story of my life lately.
On Thursday, I bake a plastic spoon into a tin of banana bread...and I forgot to peel them. Don’t ask.
Then on Friday, I mistook Celsius for Fahrenheit on the scones recipe I was following.
More than anything, I want to prove myself, but I just don’t feel like I fit in. The ladybosses are best friends, and I realize I don’t have any. I arrange the scones on a tray and they look more like giant wads of chewing gum than something edible when Mae walks in. Well, more like waddles.
She gives the scones the expected look of disgust then turns her attention to me. I get a glare. No surprise there.
“Listen, I want to talk.”
I offer an open smile, the kind Rhondy sometimes wears yet brace my hand on the display case. “Okay,” I say, thankful the counter is between us because, given the look on her face, I wouldn’t put it past her to take a swing.
“Tinsley, you have something very special to me in your hands. Do not, under any circumstances, break my brother’s heart.”
“No, of course not. But Aiden’s reputation suggests he’s the heartbreaker.”
“Exactly. His is untried. Not calloused by the trials of a real relationship.”
“Truth be told, mine isn’t either. I had superficial relationships or ones I made up,” I say, alluding to the one with Taylor.
Mae rocks back slightly. “Still, if you so much as scratch Aiden’s heart with those nails of yours—”
“These nails?” I hold them up in a reverse position of surrender. They’re not dirty, but they’re chipped and no longer manicured. In fact, looking at my palms, those have callouses.
“Oh. Well...”
“Isn’t it usually the brother that makes these threats?”
“Tinsley, I am the big protective brother and I’m concerned about whatever the two of you think you’re doing.”
I nod. “Understandably. I don’t have the greatest track record. But—” I sink back slightly and blink slowly.
“Oh,” she repeats as if not expecting me to acquiesce. She studies me for a long moment. “Oh, wow. You have heart eyes.”
“Hmm?” I ask, feeling a little punch drunk and disoriented like the bees after Bubba released the smoke into the air.
As if laying down her weapons, Mae retreats. “I’ll have to get confirmation, but this is huge. Well, just be careful. Be good to each other.”
“Of course.” And because I don’t want to do anything that would make me have to face her wrath.
The bells on the door jingle with her exit at the same time the kitchen timer beeps. I open the double swinging doors with heart windows and release a cloud of smoke.
Waving my hands, I’m thankful there aren’t any swarms of bees—swatting them can prompt stings...and that Mae is gone because she’d definitely have something to say about this smoky snafu.
This is the part in the movie when the baker realizes she’s in over her head. I’m terrified that I’m about to burn down the bakery with a batch of brownies in the oven.
“What do I do?”
I can’t call Sienna or my siblings to help. I’m trying to avoid my parents. But there is Aiden. He’s confident, charming, and capable. He can talk anyone into almost anything, but can he get rid of the smoky evidence and a burned pan?
I call him and shout, “I need you!”