30. Caden
CHAPTER 30
Caden
I’ve been busy distracting myself, cleaning every bowl within an inch of its life, going over them twice for good measure. I can’t let my mind go where it wants to go, which is right to the thought of Millie in that vest this morning. I’m finishing up with a final wipe of my section of the counter space, when I feel Millie’s arms snake around my waist from behind.
Fuck, no .
This is bad.
This is really, really bad.
Blood rushes to my cock as my mind starts its inventory of all the other ways I’d like to have her wrapped around me, not one of them appropriate or polite. I thought my libido was starting to die down now that I’m moving towards my mid-thirties, but with Millie around I feel like I’m fresh out of grade 12. I’m suddenly incredibly grateful for Stella’s insistence that I wear this goofy apron; the extra coverage is saving my ass right now .
“Is everything okay back there?” I ask, knowing that the longer I can smell Millie’s sweet, fruity scent pressed up against me, the harder it’s going to be for me to convince my cock to step down.
“Thanks for this, Caden… for bringing me here on my birthday, organizing all of this.” She pushes off from me, walking backwards towards her baking station. “This means a lot to me.”
You mean a lot to me.
More than I’d ever bargained for.
“It’s cool. It was really just part of my selfish plan to try more of the recipes from this bible.”
I hold up the recipe book in one hand.
Stella raises a brow. “You’ve tried everything in that book, Caden. I think I baked it back to front when you were going through your first growth spurt in high school.”
“Sometimes I can’t help myself.” I shrug. “When I want something, I can’t stay away. I’ve got to keep coming back for more.”
Millie pulls her apron back over her head, tightening the strings around her waist. Her silhouette is perfect, even under all of the layers she’s wearing right now. I can’t help wondering how it would feel to hold her. Properly . I want to know how every inch of her body would feel under my hands, I want to run my fingers along each line, every curve and fold. I want to watch her let go beneath me.
And I want her to want that too.
I was already doing a terrible job of staying on the right side of our friendship, but seeing her this morning in that shirt, feeling the exposed skin on the small of her back and the way she heated at my touch, pushed me over the edge .
I’m done being friends.
She was made for me, and it’s about time I do something about it.
I’ve been checking on my muffins every five minutes, hoping by some generous twist of fate they’ve finally started to rise. I went for double chocolate muffins, with a vanilla cheesecake filling, hoping that I’d be able to combine two of Millie’s favourite things into one cupcake case. I had visions of her being wowed by my baking skills, biting into one of them and doing that cute little moan that sends me into orbit each time, but instead I’ve got flat muffins and zero chance of impressing her.
Stella’s also bound to hit me around the back of the head with a baking tray when she sees the disaster I’m about to pull from the oven. She spent two whole years of her life babysitting me after school, teaching me everything there is to know about baking, and this is how I turned out.
I scan back over the recipe, trying to work out at which point I went wrong; which of the steps I missed, or ingredients I completely forgot to include. I want to blame the oven, or the utensils, or the type of flour, but there’s no doubt this is all my own fault considering how distracted I’ve been.
Stella is working with Millie across the counter, showing her how to use the stand mixer to beat together sugar, butter, milk, and lemon flavouring to get the perfect buttercream topping. That funny feeling is back in my gut, the one that feels somewhere between hunger and fear. Watching Millie fit in so well with everyone around here, seeing how loved she is, throws me off my axis a little. It’s like she was meant for Braggan Valley, like a missing puzzle piece that was just slotted in. This place had no idea she was what we were missing, but if you took her away now, we’d all feel the void.
“How is it?” Stella asks, kneading a ball of dough to the left of Millie.
Millie drags a finger through the buttercream, sucking it into her mouth with a pop.
“Sooooo good, oh my god!” She turns to face me, holding out the bowl. “You want a taste, Caden?”
Yes, I do.
I make my way around the counter, taking a deep breath in through my nose as I get closer to Millie. I place the bowl down on the counter, taking her hand in mine and dragging her index finger back through the frosting. I meet her eyes as I bring her finger to my mouth, rolling my tongue over the icing and sucking as I savor the tangy lemon taste.
“Delicious.”
I don’t drop eye contact as I let her hand go, her round cheeks flare red under my gaze as she bites down on the inner corner of her lip. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I do know that I never want to stop tasting Millie Adams.
The back door barely takes my weight as I push out onto the patio, hoping for a cool breeze but it’s equally stifling out here. There’s no escaping what she does to me. I want her, and not just her body, I want every part of her. No matter what she gives me, I find myself wanting more of it. I’m in too deep for a girl I’ve barely touched, but I can’t help feeling like she’s it.
I know that I don’t want a world where Millie isn’t part of it.
And it terrifies me.
I pull my keys from my back pocket, rubbing my thumb across the faded picture in the cracked key chain frame. It feels stupid, speaking to a set of keys, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I don’t know what the fuck to do, Dad.” I blow out a breath. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. Don’t know if I can handle it.”
I know he can’t really answer, but I look up to the clouds anyway, watching them move across the baby blue morning and hoping he can at least hear me up there.
“I like her, I really do.”
If there’s a chance that I’ve found something like what my parents had, then I shouldn’t hesitate. I should grab it with both hands, but there’s still a part of me that’s holding back, scared to fall for Millie only to have her ripped away.
“I haven’t done this before.” I run my hand across my jaw, my beard grazing the skin. “I could fuck it all up, lose our friendship.”
I pace back and forth across the gravel, kicking stones as I try to make sense of the chaos unfolding in my head.
I feel torn between the safe choice, and the one that feels right, the one that I seem to be more drawn to each day.
“Maybe I just need sex. It has been a while.”
Pulling my phone out, I scroll through my contacts. There’s plenty of girls I could call, I could show up in Aspen Ridge and be at a hotel ten minutes later, my face between the legs of someone I barely know.
But that’s not what I want anymore.
My cock goes limp at the sight of any name that’s not Millie’s.
I don’t want something temporary, or shallow, or transactional. Not when I know how it feels to be around her.
Everything else pales in comparison .
Fuck .
“What if I’m falling in love with Millie?”
I hear the slam of a dustbin lid behind me and a clatter of metal by the door.
Turning back towards the bakery, I find Stella crouched by the cardboard skip, hiding from me as she pretends to break down boxes for recycling.
Eavesdropping like it’s her god-damn job.
“How much did you hear?” I probe, pulling her up to stand beside me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pouts, but her eyes are gleaming and it’s a sure-fire sign that she heard everything.
“Say nothing,” I warn, pointing a finger in her direction and shaking my head as I make my way back inside.
“This is exciting.” She smirks, abandoning the box she was flattening and following behind me. “My lips are sealed.”
About as sealed as a busted biscuit tin, I’m sure.
Millie has finished frosting the top layer of her sponge and is now delicately placing candied lemon slices between the piped swirls of buttercream. She’s concentrating so hard that her nose is scrunched up, and she’s sticking her tongue out of the right side of her mouth.
I glance through the oven window, accepting defeat as I realize all I’m left with is flat, burnt muffins. Dropping the baking tray onto the island, I throw the oven gloves over my shoulder, crossing my arms over my chest.
It’s a disaster.
Millie lifts her head, clearly concerned by the smell of burnt chocolate. Her eyes clock the crusty, congealed lumps of flour and cream cheese lining the muffin cases.
“Uh, Caden…” she skirts around the words, “they look, uh, lovely. Albeit a bit burnt and an interesting shape, but lovely.”
“Caden!” Stella’s voice is shrill as she stabs a fork into one of the muffins, holding it up in front of my nose, forcing me to examine my failure. “What sort of crime against baking have you committed here? Have you no respect for this kitchen?!”
At that, Millie loses her composure, falling into wheezy laughter. She dips to the ground, crouching and holding her belly as she tries to contain the screeches bursting out of her chest.
“Caden, they’re so ugly.” She falls back against the dairy fridge, pawing at her eyes as tears roll down her cheeks. “They look like little lumps of horse shit.”
Her cackling gets more and more frantic each time she looks back at the abomination I’ve left on the counter.
But I’m not even mad.
I’d fuck this up again if I got the chance, just for this moment.
Hell, I’d set myself on fire time and time again if it meant being able to promise Millie laughter like this on her birthday for the rest of forever.