Chapter 10
10
KAISEN
I didn’t sleep much last night. And I wasn’t willing to admit what I did in the shower this morning, but let’s just say the memory of Dorie licking icing off her finger had been burned into my brain. I had tossed and turned all night with one unfulfilled erotic dream after another. This morning in the shower, I had to give myself some relief. My balls had been too tight. Too tender.
And after seeing her in those fucking shorts, I was going to have a hard time keeping my hands above the belt. I needed to chill the hell out and keep my mind off the image of her in those shorts. I was not some hormonal teenager. I was a grown man with a billion-dollar empire to run.
I chalked this sudden, undying lust up to being out of my routine. My life was structured, regimented, and predictable. Back in New York, there would be plenty of opportunity for me to find a woman to handle my needs. Out here, I was on my own. I was sure I might be able to find a willing partner, but I wouldn’t know where to look. And I already knew it wasn’t just anyone I was looking to hook up with.
The woman had me twisted up. Look at me. Look at what I was doing. Early morning coffee with a woman who seemed to have no interest in my money or status? This was not normal for me. And yet, here I was, trying to act like I wasn’t completely thrown off by her.
When Dorie answered the door in pajama shorts and a tank top, her hair a mess of curls, I had to count “one potato, two potato” to keep my dick down. It took all my self-control to keep my eyes on her face. She looked adorable. That kind of fresh-out-of-bed look that made me think about what it would have been like to be in that bed with her.
And I hated that I think that.
The broken coffeemaker was my chance to insert myself into her world for a short time.
“Take a right up here,” she said.
The shop was at the base of a waterfront shop. It appeared to be the only shop open. I had looked for something open on my way to her place and found nothing. I myself had a moment of panic that I might not be able to get my usual drink.
At the coffee shop, I held the door open for her. “I suppose you like to order something ridiculous like a birthday cake latte with sprinkles.”
“Would it matter?” she asked. “Coffee is coffee.”
“Not if it’s loaded with crap that makes it taste like a birthday cake.”
We walked up to the counter. “Triple shot americano,” she said.
I looked at her with a grin. That was not what I expected. “Vanilla latte,” I ordered. “Biggest you’ve got.”
“Whipped?” the young woman asked.
“Please.”
Dorie looked up at me and smirked. She was clearly enjoying the fact that I was the one with the sweet tooth.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for sprinkles,” she quipped.
I chuckled, leaning against the counter. “Sprinkles are for cupcakes, not coffee.”
She raised an eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. “Sometimes.”
The barista handed us our drinks. I took a sip of my latte, hoping it wasn’t too strong or too weak. The rich vanilla flavor hit the spot. Dorie’s americano smelled strong enough to wake the dead. I couldn’t help but admire her choice. She wasn’t one to sugarcoat things—literally or figuratively.
We headed back to the car, the caffeine already hitting. I took a couple minutes to suck down more of the drink. Dorie was hitting hers pretty hard.
“Should I go in and order another one for you?” I joked.
“Nope. Coffee. Coke. Water. Coffee. Coke. Water.”
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s the way I keep my caffeine levels at an even keel,” she said.
I chuckled. “Noted. I imagine your early mornings require a lot of caffeine.”
“Early mornings, late nights, and everything in between,” she said with a hint of amusement. “When you’re running a bakery, there’s no such thing as a normal sleep schedule.”
I glanced at her as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Sounds like you’re up before the sun most days.”
“Pretty much,” she admitted, sipping her drink. “But I like it. The quiet, the smell of fresh bread baking… it’s worth it.”
I nodded, though I couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to keep up with it all. I was a workaholic but fuck that. No way was I getting up before dawn every day.
“Where’s this grocery store?” I asked.
Soon after, we wound our way through the aisles together. I pushed the cart while she walked beside me judgmentally.
“You’re seriously buying frozen dinners?” Dorie asked, her tone dripping with disbelief as she eyed the stack of microwaveable meals I was tossing into the cart. She leaned against the handle, one eyebrow arched.
“What?” I shot back defensively. “They’re convenient.”
“Convenient? That’s one word for it,” she said, picking up one of the boxes and squinting at the ingredients list like it was written in a foreign language. “Sodium bomb. Preservatives galore. Artificial flavoring? Kaisen, this is basically plastic disguised as food. You’re a runner. You’re the one that complained about my cakes.”
I snatched the box back and chucked it into the cart. “It’s fine. I’m not exactly a gourmet chef, and I don’t want to starve.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” she asked, holding up a pre-packaged salad like it was a crime.
“I eat out a lot,” I admitted, shrugging. “Where would I find stuff to make sandwiches?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “You mean bread? Meat?”
“Yeah. And mayo. That kind of stuff.”
I could tell she thought I was crazy.
“Have you ever been to a grocery store?” she asked.
“I’ve been to one.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. You haven’t!”
“I have someone who handles groceries,” I said. “And someone does the cleaning. Is that a problem?”
She shook her head, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “No, it’s just… interesting. You’re out of your element, aren’t you?”
I nodded, grabbing a box of cereal off the shelf. “For the next month, yeah. All for Cullen’s sake. I already looked to see what kind of delivery services are around here.”
“And you came up empty,” she said with a smile.
“Basically. I can make a sandwich if I have the stuff.”
“Do you plan on living off sandwiches and frozen pizza?”
“It’s not really a choice. It’s more of a necessity.”
She took over the cart and started moving down the aisle. I followed behind her like a child, my eyes scanning the many offerings. I grabbed a box of steel cut oat packets and tossed it in the cart.
“Maybe Eliza can cook,” I said.
She snorted. “Good luck with that. You might want to stick to your freezer meals.”
I wanted to ask about her comments about Eliza last night. There was clearly some underlying tension there, but I was not sure how to broach the subject. Dorie loved her sister—that much was obvious—but there was something else there. Something she was not saying.
I wondered if it was jealousy. Eliza seemed to be doing pretty well for herself in New York. Eliza said she wanted to open a bakery in New York. Maybe that was where the jealousy came from.
“Hold on,” Dorie said and backed up before turning down another aisle.
She stopped to look at coffeemakers, frowning at the prices. I watched as she surveyed the limited selection. She pulled a box off the shelf and stared at it. I had no idea what she was looking at.
“They’re so expensive,” she muttered, putting it back on the shelf.
I raised an eyebrow. “I can buy one for you.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll order one off Amazon. It’ll just take a couple of days.”
I didn’t push, but I made a mental note to look into it later. She led me around the store, helping me find the sandwich stuff and ultimately an aisle filled with the healthy stuff. By the time we finished, the cart was overflowing. I had no idea why I bought so much. It was the novelty of it all. And I was hungry. It all looked really good.
After dropping a few hundred dollars, we headed back to the car. The trunk was full, which was oddly satisfying.
“Can you swing by my bakery?” she asked. “I need to check on something.”
“Sure.”
I couldn’t help but notice she was looking at the buildings as I drove down the road. To me, it looked like she was looking for something. Or someone.
I parked in front of the bakery. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
I waited in the car, watching as she walked to the shop next door to hers. She was talking to a woman. Their conversation was animated, and from where I was sitting, she looked upset. Stressed.
She got back in the car without going into the bakery, which seemed odd to me.
Her mood had noticeably shifted.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She nodded, but it was clear things were not fine. “Yeah, just… another shop sold out. It’s fine.”
I didn’t pry, but I made a mental note to look into it. I didn’t realize she owned her building, and the fact that she was holding her ground against whatever was going on mades me see her in a new light. I knew a little about real estate and I was guessing there was probably a run for the property. It would be a very lucrative investment.
I drove us out to the rental property where her car was waiting.
“I’ll help you carry your groceries in,” she said.
I popped the trunk and grabbed as many bags as I could carry. She followed suit, her arms loaded with groceries. We made our way up the walkway to the front door, the weight of the bags pulling at my arms.
“Thanks,” I said once we had everything unloaded.
I debated asking her if she wanted to go for a swim in the pool. But I held back. I didn’t want to push.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the venue, right? Eliza said you were going.”
“I will be there,” I said. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
“My car is fine,” she said with obvious irritation.
I smirked. “Alright. Fair enough. I’ll meet you there.”
I walked her to the door and watched her get in her car. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with her. Dorie had a wall around her, that much was clear. She was charming and friendly with everyone else, but with me, she was cold and teasing. I couldn’t figure out why.
And it shouldn’t matter. She was my best friend’s future wife’s sister. I didn’t need to be her friend. She obviously didn’t want to be my friend.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the mountain of grocery bags scattered across the counter. I sighed, pushing up my sleeves. Might as well get this over with.
I started with the fridge, shoving cartons of almond milk and pre-packaged salads into the crisper drawers. The freezer got the pizzas and frozen veggie bowls and various frozen meals.
By the time I was done, my kitchen looked like someone had actually lived here for more than a couple of days. It was oddly satisfying, even if most of it would probably go bad before I got around to eating it.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wandered out to the pool. The air was a little cool, but the pool was heated. I didn’t have anything else to do for the day. A swim seemed like a good idea. I headed upstairs to change into my swimming trunks.
I pulled a towel from the linen closet and headed back outside. I dove into the pool, the water closing around me like a cool embrace. I swam a few laps thinking about Dorie. Her sharp tongue, her guardedness, the way she’d looked so upset talking to that woman outside her bakery. There was something she wasn’t saying, something bothering her. Maybe that was why she was so short with me. It wasn’t me that pissed her off—it was whatever she was dealing with.