Chapter Eleven
Mindy
I wasn’t expecting to see him so early, but there he is, sitting up against my front door at five in the morning, one leg outstretched completely while his head rests against my door.
Quietly, I make my way over to the window and knock, startling him awake.
He jumps to his feet, swinging around to greet me.
“Why are you here so early?” I shout through the glass.
He’s not smiling, but he’s not exactly frowning either. He’s definitely scowling though, like me asking him why he’s posted up against my building isn’t as alarming as it is.
His breath fogs up the glass, every puff angrier than the first. But still… he doesn’t answer me.
Finally, I get myself together and carefully unlatch the door, letting him in only because it’s freezing temperatures outside.
“How long have you been out there?”
He growls under his breath, “Long enough.”
“You’re going to catch a cold sitting out there all night like that.”
He only shrugs, then makes his way to the farthest corner of my shop and sits down, the chair screeching against the floor beneath him.
“Krampus…”
“I told you to call me Rich,” he grits out, mouth clenching in frustration.
“Okay, fine! Rich, why are you here?”
“Can’t a guy want a pastry in the morning?”
“Sure? But I don’t open for another few hours. What gives?”
He looks away from me, watching the door like he’s expecting a war.
“Are you planning on sitting there all day?”
He shrugs. “If I have to.”
My hand immediately goes to my hip. “And you’re not going to tell me why?”
He shakes his head. “The less you know, the better.”
If there’s one thing that really makes me mad, it’s when people keep things from me, and he’s obviously keeping something big, because the man’s in definite defense mode right now.
“Rich, if you’re gonna post up in my shop like this, I at least need to know why.”
He briefly looks my way, then looks back at the window, crossing his arms defiantly.
“This is loitering, you know?”
He nods.
“I could call the police on you.”
He shrugs, refusing to say anything more.
“You are the most aggravating man I have ever met. I hope you know that.”
And the guy does something even more infuriating… he winks. Not a cool, calm, and collected wink either. A full on sexy as fudge wink that sends my ovaries into overdrive. The instant baby maker wink you only see in movies. Cookies for him doing this.
He smirks as I stomp away, my frustration doubling as lust as I make my way upstairs to take a shower.
Part of me wishes he would join me. The other part of me wants to throw him out into the cold again.
But I don’t. Outside, it was freezing. Inside isn’t much better.
The shop’s heat is minimal at best, so the man isn’t going to get much warmer loitering in my lobby.
I hope his boy nips freeze into tiny little peaks and…
and… ahh, shortbread! The more I think about his nipples being hard, the more turned on I get.
That’s the difficult part of being celibate for far too long.
The last time my lady parts got a good workout was years ago.
Five, if you want to be specific. I’m not the kind of girl who just opens her legs for anyone.
When I choose a guy, it’s because I’m genuinely attracted to him and in a monogamous, serious relationship.
My last boyfriend and I were together for five years before we broke up.
We were on the fast track to marriage, babies, the whole fudging gambit of forever bliss, and just like burned cookies, the man fried my heart in an oven, leaving me alone and single right before the holidays.
It was devastating! I baked at least a hundred desserts that night, taking my frustration out on pastry instead of him.
Calvin Moot didn’t deserve my tears or my heartache, but that’s just what he got that Christmas, along with a long, sad letter begging for him back.
I guess he and his secretary got a big laugh over that, because I found out a few weeks later that she was pregnant and they were getting married.
I didn’t even know he cheated until the wedding announcement hit the papers, her big belly on full display.
It’s why I haven’t been with anyone since; I’m too gun shy to get close to anyone again.
But now…
Now there’s him, the grumpy man posted in my storefront, silently watching the door like he’s guarding me.
“Ugh, why does he have to be so hot and aggravating at the same time?” My reflection doesn’t respond, so I turn on the faucet; the shower’s steam quickly filling the room.
My eyes slide shut as the warm water hits my skin. It soothes all the cricks and sore muscles I got while baking last night. It’s a little easier to keep up with stock when someone doesn’t buy it out the first day, but gosh was it heroic. It’s all I’ve thought about since then.
His blue eyes immediately pop into my head, along with that chiseled jaw half hidden by his stupid mask. I don’t know why he’s constantly hiding behind it, but I’d love to find out.
That’s when my thoughts envision things that would land me on the naughty list. Naughty, naughty things that’s not full of sugar or very sweet at all.
They’re dirty… unclean, the kind of thoughts that stick to your fingers like batter and have you sucking your fingers down without a care in the world.
And who do I have to thank for it?
Mr. Grumpy Sunshine himself. The infuriating, sexy as warm buttered biscuits, man of mystery that has all my womanly fantasies in a frizzle.
Krampus…
It’s just those naughty thoughts that have my hand traveling to dormant places—places suddenly very active and ready to burst.
“Mmm,” I moan loudly, unable to help myself. Just the thought of that man touching me has every nerve in my body on fire.
My fingers spread my folds, circling the sensitive area that has my legs shaking with need. It’s been too long since anyone has touched me there, including myself. I’ve just been too busy, but now… now I have time. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, to satisfy my Krampus-filled daydreams.
“Oh my.”
Another swirl has me moaning.
“Oh, goodness.”
It’s like he’s right here in the shower with me.
Those bare arms, covered in sexy tattoos, strongly circle my body, the wet water slipping over our bare skin in heated bliss.
His mouth finds my neck and suckles, nibbling and nipping at the sensitive flesh just behind my ear.
He’s so hard that it presses against me, forcing me to turn so his mouth can claim me just as he slides in.
It’s not forced or aggressive. It’s passionate and slow, filled with every intent of making me shatter and cum without warning.
“Oh, Rich,” I coo, imagining his hands squeezing my breasts, his thickness spreading me. “Make me cream, Krampus.”
I giggle at the pun. Sometimes swearing is needed, and in this moment, my mind is saying every dirty word possible, slinging those cusswords like I’m sprinkling a tree with tinsel.
But because I’m a lady, I’ll do whatever I have to, to maintain my sweet bubble gum exterior, even disgrace pastries with my naughty visions of not so sugary sugar plums filling me inside.
Another giggle escapes my lips, this time loud enough for it to carry.
“I seriously hope he can’t hear me,” I whisper to myself, losing my naughty vision to the water that’s suddenly ice cold and frosty.
“Crumpets, this water heater doesn’t last long at all.”
I quickly wash my hair and scrub my body with my loofa, making sure to get rid of any evidence before jumping out of that shower like a deer leaping to safety.
Too bad these delicious fantasies have to stay hidden. Thirty minutes later, after I’m dressed to impress and my hair is pinned in fifties pin-up glory, I mosey on downstairs to find Krampus still sitting at the same table, only this time he’s smirking.
Fudge sticks.
“What?” I ask him, knowing exactly what he heard.
He holds up his hands in defense, but his smile only widens more. “Nothing at all. Did you have a good shower?”
“It got cold way too fast.”
“Someone needed to hose you off,” he mumbles, that smirk only getting snarkier.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, that’s too bad.”
“Uh huh.” He and I both know what he said.
His gaze is heated and full of pure wickedness and has every intent of dismantling me. Why is it working so well?
My cheeks heat with embarrassment, and I suddenly feel awkwardly out of place, so I turn away from him, ready to busy myself with baking.
His voice carries across the room, the indulgent husk hitting my ears like he’s whispering against them. “Did it hit you in all the right places?”
A sheet pan clatters to the floor, making me jump and turn nervously to face him. “Did what hit me in all the right places?”
He gets up from the table, strutting across the room with a swagger that wasn’t there when he first came in. He only stops when he’s a few feet away from me, the heat of my body tickling his icy exterior like foreplay.
“The shower,” he whispers, that husk still lingering and making me all giddy. A single hand goes onto the counter beside me, boxing me in, those blue eyes twinkling with playful desire. “Did it hit you hard and massage all those kinks and aches?”
Oh, it soothed an ache alright, just not the one he’s referring to.
“Krampus…”
“Call me Rich.” His breath hits me like a tidal wave; the faint scent of peppermint hits my nose and lingers. I love the smell of peppermint in the morning.
Gulping, I take a step back, only to meet the cold surface of my countertop.
“You’re awfully close right now.”
“Does it bother you?”
My head shakes, just as one of his hands meets the skin on my arm, gently traveling the naked space like he owns it.
“This is a very pretty dress.”
Another gulp has me in a panic. He’s so close he can kiss me, and sweet mother of molasses do I want it to happen.
“Mindy, I—”
Before he can say another word, there’s a long bang on the door, one that has us both jumping apart.
Mosely and that man I met when I first got here are standing at the door, looking pissed off and angry.
“I— I— better get that.”
He grips my hand, halting me from taking a step. “Don’t open the door.”
“I have to, Rich; he’s my landlord.”
“He’s not who you think he is.”
His words only stall me for a second, before more obnoxious knocking draws me away. The whole time, Krampus is on edge, staring at the door like he’s ready for a fight.
But I can’t not open the door for them, not when the man basically handed me my storefront without a second thought.
Carefully, I open the door, making sure I’m all smiles and not a bumbling mess of pent-up sexual frustration.
“Mr. Moseley, how nice to see you this morning. How can I help you today?”
“It seems you and I need to have a chat, Ms. St. John.” His glare darts Krampus’ way, teeth clenching menacingly. “Alone.”
Nodding, I follow the man outside, allowing him to lure me next door even though every part of me is telling me to turn back and hide behind the biker still lurking in my kitchen.