Chapter Fifteen
Mindy
I’ll never forget that moment. The way his kiss burned through me, eating away all the fear I had about my encounter with Moseley and the broken future he promised me.
In Rich’s arms, I actually feel safe and protected.
Like by his side, we can accomplish anything.
Mask or no mask, this man is sexy as sin.
And the way he kisses. Whoo-wee, do my womanly hormones rise like a yeasty roll set out to activate.
It's like this man was put on this earth just for me.
“Rich, please. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”
His hand finds its way into my top and caresses my flesh, owning my breasts with every squeeze. “You’re perfect in every way,” he murmurs, those sweet kisses dancing down my neck and back up until we’re meeting lip to lip again.
“We should stop.”
He nods.
“We just met…”
He only smiles, the slow seductive slide of his lips and instant pull.
“Please,” I beg. “Let’s take things slow.” My heart is stuttering inside my chest, the pulse between my legs begging for more, but I know this can’t happen, not when we both have too many things to learn about each other.
He pulls away, the smile fading to a frown. I don’t want him to be upset, but at the same time, we only met a few days ago, and it’s been years for me…
Then he takes my hands. “However long you need.” His lips trail over the knuckles of my hand, those blue eyes dragging me down even deeper in his wicked web of enticement.
“Don’t get me wrong. I like you, Rich. More than I should, with just meeting you, but it’s been a long time for me. Years in fact.”
His hand drags down my body and firmly grasps my hip, pulling me even closer. “Even better.” I never noticed before, but if his smile twists just right, a faint dimple slightly puckers and dots the corner of his lips.
“Ugh, sometimes being a lady really sops my biscuit.”
He laughs. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable your baking swears are?”
Grinning, I pull away just enough to admire his face, reaching for the mask covering him. “I’ve been told that a time or two.”
He moves out of my reach when my fingers move beneath the plastic, attempting to see all of him. “Don’t,” he says quickly.
“Please,” I beg of him. “I want to see all of you.”
His insecurity takes over. Even when I remove the mask, the man stares at the ground, like at any moment, I’ll run away screaming.
Each scar has its own story, a hill in flesh that reminds him of parts of his past he’d like to erase. It makes him self-conscious… unsure. Like me touching him is some kind of trick, and tomorrow he’ll wake up to everyone laughing.
“What happened?” I prod, knowing he may be too proud to tell me.
His hands never leave my side; they just settle on my hips, holding me there so I can’t run away.
“When I was five, my father owned a diner. He was married to that job. He had this bad habit of testing out his new waitresses, and my mom caught him dick deep in one of them while I played obliviously just outside the door. My mother ended up taking her life because of it.”
Mindy gasps. “Oh my gosh, Rich. That’s horrible!”
He nods. “My father never wanted to be a single dad. He was too busy with his restaurant to properly raise me, so my grandmother would help him the best she could. But she also had really bad COPD, and that made it difficult to chase me around. So, most nights, he’d take me back to the diner with him and run his shift while I ran around the restaurant. ”
My fingers move through his hair and then back down the side of the beautifully scarred face he’s so ashamed of.
How can he look in the mirror and not see what I see?
The beauty. Behind his scars is a complex aggression and aversion to anything that could make him even remotely happy. It’s sad. So damn sad.
He briefly meets my gaze and tries to smile, failing instantly the second he speaks again.
“As I grew up, I’d help him with tiny things in the kitchen, watching his movements, making sure I marked all of them to memory.
I thought I was invincible back then, that I was just like him.
So, while he had a really busy day, I wandered into the kitchen and decided I wanted some fries.
I did everything he did, pouring the frozen potatoes into the basket and dropping into the fryer like he always did.
I waited until they were done, standing on the stool that barely helped me reach the top of the fryer, but I misjudged how hard it would be to pull the fries out, and the stool fell out from under me, causing me to rip the basket out too quickly and hot oil and fries to rain down on me from above, straight onto my face. ”
“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, Rich.”
“The worst part was, my dad was angrier at me for messing with his fryer and disrupting his lunch rush than he was about me getting hurt. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that. They were doing their best to take care of my grandma, and took me in after my father basically disowned me. He couldn’t look at my face without feeling too much guilt, and that guilt turned to hatred and disgust rather quickly. ”
“Oh, Rich, I don’t know what to say.”
He laughs. “You don’t have to say anything, babe.
Things happen that are out of people’s control.
I’m just thankful that my aunt and uncle raised me the way they did.
If it weren’t for them and my two best friends getting me through my teenage and college years, I’m not sure I’d still be here today. ”
My hand travels across the rough skin, finding beauty in the contrast of new skin and the red uneven patches of scars that kaleidoscope across his face like mosaic art.
“It’s honestly not that bad.”
He shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, honestly, Rich. These scars really aren’t that bad. I find them beautiful.”
“Well, I’m glad one of us does. Every time I look in the mirror, all I see is a monster staring back at me.”
“Have you ever tried taking off the mask and seeing how people react to you without it?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“And?”
There’s a long pause before he sucks in a deep breath and sighs.
“It’s hit and miss. It’s always the awkward stares that get to me.
How one minute people can be smiling and happy, and the second they see me, they’re quickly crossing the street to get away.
Kids are the worst. I don’t know how many times one has screamed just because I forgot to wear my mask that day.
I wear it more for other people’s benefit than my own. ”
“And women? How do they react to it?”
“Like they got a Beauty and the Beast fetish and are waiting for my scars to melt away into some handsome prince. Eventually, they get disappointed too. It’s the people closest to me that hurt the most. The abandonment I felt after my father disowned me.
My mother ending her life just because he was straying on her.
My first crush, who only went to prom with me because she lost a bet, was the same girl who took my virginity and crushed me afterward when she said she felt like fucking a charity case that day. ”
“That’s awful.”
He looks at his feet. “I’ve gotten used to it over the years. It’s why I’ve grown so reclusive and stayed away from anything remotely happy.”
“So, like Disneyland?”
“I’d probably punch a mascot if it came up to me.”
“Newborn babies?”
“Their cries make me want to grab an icepick and drive it through my ears.”
I don’t know why, but that makes me laugh. “What about Christmas?”
“I’m a total Grinch. Hate everything about it. Looooathe it entirely, actually,” I add, putting on my best Grinch impression. “That’s how I got my club nickname.”
“How can anyone hate Christmas?”
He shrugs. “When you’ve grown up the way I have, you tend to shy away from large gatherings of people and anything merry and bright.”
“That’s so sad,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“I’m a sad excuse for a person.”
He slightly flinches when my hand hits his shoulder. “Don’t you dare say that! You are not a sad excuse of a person, Rich. You’ve been nothing but nice to me since the day we met.”
“You’re the exception.”
“Why?”
He laughs. “Because you baked your way into my cold, dark heart.”
“My grandmother always said that even the grumpiest of people can be sweetened by pastries and chocolate.”
His smile spreads. “So that’s your secret, huh? You used chocolate to woo the monster.”
Smiling shyly, I move in to steal another kiss, loving how soft and accepting his lips are in that moment. “No, Rich. I used chocolate to woo the man of my dreams.”
Even in the fading sunlight, I can see his blush warming a face he’s so desperate to hide.
“We should head back.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll head back to your place and pick up your things.”
I’m not sure what kind of response he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect me to pull away so abruptly. “What are you talking about?”
“Your things. Did you really think I was going to let you go back to your bakery and stay there, knowing what Moseley has planned for you?”
“I can’t leave my bakery, Rich.”
“Sure you can. If that’s what keeps you safe—”
I cut him off before he could finish his thought. “This is my dream, Rich. I can’t just abandon my bakery when things are going so well.”
“You’re in danger.”
“And? I’m in danger anywhere I go. I’m not leaving my bakery. I have too much money invested.”
“Mindy, think about this. Moseley has the keys to your bakery. He can come in anytime and—”
“So what? I can handle myself. I have a Taser.”
“And they have guns. Don’t be stupid. Let me protect you at my club.” He reaches out for me, but I slap his hand away.
“I’m not leaving the bakery.”
“Mindy…”
“Just drop it, okay? Moseley doesn’t scare me, and either does his shady friends. I’ll get the police involved.”
“He owns the police. Well, most of them.”
“Then I’ll find a cop who will listen to me. I’m not just going to stand by and live my life in fear all because some pudgy Italian mob boss wants me to marry his hired gun.”
“Hired gun?”
“Yeah, he told me that Mr. Nostra is his hired gun.”
“Fuck, this is worse than I thought. Yeah, I’m definitely not letting you go back there now.” When he tries to grab my hand again, I move around to the other side of my bike, putting distance between us. “Mindy, come on, be reasonable here.”
I’m reaching for my helmet before he can stop me. “You act like you have some kind of say in my life. You’re not my husband. Heck, you’re not even my boyfriend. You’re just some guy who bought a lot of pastries from my shop.”
My words hit him hard; the hurt in his eyes is almost immediate.
“Last I checked, buying those pastries helped you sell out on your first day.”
“And look where that left me. We had to stay up all night just to make enough food for the next day. Speaking of which, I need to get back. My pastries aren’t going to bake themselves.”
His scowl says everything he won’t. But that doesn’t stop him from laying in one final dig. “Fine, but don’t expect me to save you this time when shit goes south.”
It’s the last thing we say to each other before we part ways.