Her Sweet Cake

2. Jordan

CHAPTER 2

Jordan

D amn and fuck.

Worst Valentine's Day ever, hands down. Not that I normally care about such things as romantic holidays for cuddly couples with hearts in their eyes.

That shit never even blipped on my radar in the entire course of my adult existence.

So, of course, the first time I find myself giving a shit about this crap, everything ends up being fucked up by work, right?

Who has time to think about not ending up alone yet again on Valentine's Day, when you’re trying to branch out on your own? Who has time to even look at a girl, when all that matters has been turning the little tech startup that you developed all by your lonesome on your little laptop in your late twenties after grad school into a money-making power-house? Who has time for even thinking about dating when you are busy dreaming of being a success without using Daddy’s money and Mommy’s influence? Who has time for being soft when all you can think about is to make it big on your own and not win easy like everybody else in your world had no qualms doing? Who has time for women and romance when you were obsessed over making a billion on your own merits before you turned thirty- four? And now that you have made said billion, who has time for anything else outside of work when there’s so much potential for growth?

That was me two weeks ago.

And sure, I’ve got it made: my company, Arrow Tech, is now an international corporation worth one billion and three-quarters and counting, and that happened without me touching a single dime of my hefty trust fund, but even from all the way on top of the mountain, I still felt like there was more climbing to do. First, it was reaching the billion benchmark that I had imposed on myself. Then it was to go over it. Now it has become to double it, triple it even, preferably sometime before I turn forty and why?

Just because I could.

Just because I love the game too much.

There wasn’t a single part of me predisposed to falling for someone this fast, this hard, and this deep, but again, that was two weeks ago, and this is now.

And now there's Trudy, and all of my priorities have changed. No work-related success can make me swallow the bitter pill of having missed out on a chance to spend today with her, especially not when I'm pretty sure my not showing up today, after hinting at it yesterday, caused my Trudy any pain. I can't stand the thought of dimming her smile even a little, let alone take it off her beautiful face.

But I’m positive that’s exactly what happened today.

It figures.

And, really, it’s all my fault anyway.

As soon as I realized what this woman meant to me, I should have said fuck all to conventions and politeness and just snatched her up for myself. But no, I had to play by the rules, be nice, and try and give her romance instead of just cutting down to the chase.

I mean, I thought a woman like that, so damn fucking sweet and amazing, would be tickled pink at the idea of being asked out on Valentine's Day for the first date. Isn't it the kind of shit women like to turn into legendary tales to share with future grandkids?

So, I forced myself not to listen to my first inclination to go all caveman on her and take what my heart has been screaming at me that is all mine ever since the first time I laid eyes on her. I pulled the goddamned breaks to give her flowers and freaking kittens, and for what?

For the both of us to end up alone and disappointed on Valentine's Day. That’s for what.

Because if I know my girl, she’s gotta be feeling this shit.

Two weeks of flirting that apparently led to nothing would do that to a person, especially one as kindhearted and soft as she seems to be.

Me, I’m beyond disappointed and disgruntled by this point and all the way gone to pissed off at myself.

All those days and nights spent talking myself down from acting like a beast and treating my courting of her like some kind of hostile takeover in favor of lighthearted flirting and pastry-related double entendres that made her giggle and blush like a little girl, instead I should have popped my leash and just jumped behind that damn counter standing between us and just planted one on her!

And there is more. I’ve got to be honest about this, at least to myself, and maybe, someday, I’ll tell her, and she’ll have a laugh about this, too.

Me, I can’t yet, but the hell of it is that Trudy Heart, teeny tiny, soft, and curvy with those short honey blonde waves swishing around her gorgeous face, with those adorable dimples on her cheeks, those huge dark Bambi-like eyes of hers and those kissable, plump rosy lips scared the crap out of me. All of 5’2’’ to my 6’4’’, and she fucking terrified me with her beauty and the way she sent my heart galloping like mad in my chest and turned my cock to stone with a single flutter of those long lashes of hers.

I was flabbergasted the first time I saw her. Never felt anything even coming close to that kind of instant attraction to a woman in my life, and I’m not exactly a boy any longer.

Sure, I’ve had girlfriends and dates here and there over the years, nothing serious, though, because my company came first and nothing and no one could tear me off my work schedule long enough to come to mean something to me, no matter how hard they tried, or how beautiful they were and then there she was, offering nothing more than a smile with a notched dimpled and a heavenly-looking –and smelling– cupcake on the palm of her delicate hand, and I was a goner.

Between one blink and the next, she blew my fucking top off.

So, yeah, I’m man enough to admit I didn’t know what to do with myself at first, or with someone like her, for that matter. It’s not every day that you meet your forever, and you’re in big fucking trouble if she looks like an angel, smells like sin, and you want to do every dirty thing your brain could possibly come up with to her all at once. There was my heart, suddenly exploding in my chest and seemingly revealing a damn hidden function or something.

All of a sudden, the shit was not simply pumping blood and working to get oxygen all through my body, nope. It was doing something else to me, killing me and bringing me back to life over and over in a matter of seconds as I stood there like a total idiot with the most enormous hard-on in the history of hard-ons and my QI dropping more and more as my hands shook and my entire body tensed up. I still don't know how I survived the shock. For days, I was simply paralyzed, powerless to do anything.

Her beauty and the way she made me feel kept me in thralls. And then there are her pastries. I mean, you got to be that fucking pretty, you also have to have such a gift with baking to bewitch men with and turn them even more stupid? How's that fair?

Before I even knew I stepped into her net, I was well and truly caught, and the kicker was, she didn’t even realize. She’s such a sweetheart that she has no idea of her worth, and yet she has single-handedly brought me to my knees.

My legs always kept leading me to her, no matter if there was a conscious thought or not behind my actions. I wouldn't even know I was getting in my truck and there I was, all of a sudden, driving into town. Now that I can look back more lucidly on those first days, I don't even know how I didn't end up wiping out somewhere on the road between my log cabin in the woods and Trudy's bakery in Sylvan Creek.

At some point, thankfully, I found my tongue and started to actually act like a rational being around her, with working neurons flashing in my brain and everything. Still, the shit was difficult as fuck to do with a whisper-scream constantly running through my mind like a malware, that kept telling me to just jump her.

But I managed to act half-human and speak actual words to her instead of growls and grunts, and I could see she was interested in me. Every time I stepped into Cupid's Cupcake for a glimpse of her and a taste of one of her mouthwatering concoctions, her sweet little face would light up like a Christmas tree, eyes blazing and big smile in place.

That’s when I should have just pounced. I mean, sure, being a gentleman is important and all, and being romantic is something women dig, according to my sister Lucy and all the chatter she’s been throwing my way since she started dating in her late teens, but had I acted on my feelings a few days ago, I wouldn’t be in this predicament now, would I?

I put the big reveal off until today, and in the end, the whole thing blew up in my face. There I was, on my way to tell my woman what's in my heart, with the perfect romantic outing all mapped out in my head, and my stupid fucking phone goes off in my pocket. And even as pissed as I am, I can see the irony of what happened. I'm a total workaholic that never takes a day off. That's in my genetic makeup; my dad's the same. My poor mother has been worried sick about me for years. It would take me half a century to recount her numerous attempts at forcing me to take a vacation, and the one time I actually plan not to work and to act like a regular human being that enjoys time off to do something nice, this shit happens and ruins my chance to make Trudy my Valentine.

Before meeting my little slice of sweet cake, I did not know the first thing about wooing a woman. I've been so focused on building my company from the ground up and replicating my father's and grandfather's business success, that dating hadn't even taken a backseat to my other priorities. Dating wasn't even in the same car as me. Aside from one girlfriend in high school and another steady relationship during college, most of my dates of the last ten years or so have been women meant to grace my arm at a fundraiser or high society party that my mother, in her constant hunt to find me the perfect girl to build a life and have babies with, has been selecting for me with my sister's help. I went along with it with zero intention of settling down, just to have some company from time to time. I was always upfront with the woman of the moment so that they would know that no matter what kind of yarn my mom had been spinning, I wasn't in the market for a girlfriend, let alone a wife, and a couple of nice evenings out, followed occasionally by some bedroom gymnastics, was all that I could offer.

All of this amounts to me not knowing how to go about the task of winning someone like Trudy, but still, I did my best to organize the perfect little outing for us. I had everything set up and ready to go for a romantic date that I thought would please her. Just as I was on my way to go pay her my daily visit at the bakery to ask her out and simultaneously get stoned on the now-usual dose of sugar and adrenaline that I get, both from seeing her and sampling her treats, while my poor bedraggled brain goes on picturing my sampling a very different kind of sweetness, when I had to turn my truck the fuck around before I even made it into town. I was crushed, yet there was no other recourse at the time but to leave Sylvan Creek and all my hopes and dreams for the day behind alongside Trudy and head back into Denver since with the worst timing ever in the history of bad timings, my PA informed me that there was an emergency that required not only my immediate attention but for me to drag my ass all the way to my company headquarters, pronto and that he was patching-through my head of security to give me a rundown of things.

And, sure, I’m not saying the guy overstepped by calling me because, if something qualifies as an emergency, that is when it comes to light that one of your most trusted executives –that also happens to be an old friend you’ve known since the first year of college– has been fucking embezzling money from your motherfucking company. The motherfucking company that the piece of shit knows only too well that you love like a child, the company he has seen you pouring sweat, tears and blood in since day one. A thing for which I’m going to make sure he’s going to pay in every way possible allowed by the law shortly.

But did it have to happen today of all days?

I seethed for two hours straight on the way to Arrow Tech, my brain shattering in two different directions. A part of me still stuck on Trudy and what today could have meant for us, and the rest of me reeling from the betrayal of someone who I thought of as a brother. All the while, trying to both quell my disappointment for the lost chance with my girl and to understand how evil and stupid at the same time a man’s got to be to pull this shit just for money. Especially considering the eight-figure salary he was making working for me and my willingness to get behind his ideas for future joint-endeavors and investments, even if it came down to fronting the entire cost all by myself at first.

I'm pretty sure the jerk would have been able to make double the amount he stole from my company by doing the right thing and biding his time. Greed is an ugly little critter that borrows into the very soul of weak people, though, and in trying to fuck me over, my once friend has ended up fucking himself for life. It doesn't matter how long we've known each other and what he thought he could bullshit me with to get out of this mess. He knows only too well that I'm not one for giving second chances to motherfuckers that try to fuck me over and that it would have been a cold day in hell before I let him slip the noose on such a grievous offense. But I guess you never really know people or what’s in their hearts. And when I think that having to clean up this asshole’s mess cost me the opportunity to make my girl happy, I get even more pissed off!

So, if there even was a possibility –albeit a small one– that I could have found it in my heart to be lenient toward the asswipe for old times' sake and spare him at the very least the jail time, sure as fuck I won't do it now. It looks like I'm going to be stuck here in Denver dealing with his crap at least until tomorrow afternoon because my security team has been uncovering more and more shit about the asshole’s doing with each passing hour. And the fact that I thought I could still salvage the day, up until an hour ago, and go back to my girl before she closed up shop and still give her at least a part of the Valentine's Day I had planned for us by taking her out to dinner, really makes me want to strangle this fuck.

Trudy has already managed to come to mean this much to me, which is highly unusual because, normally, I’m not the most trusting man around, and I’ve never allowed someone so new in my life to get this much under my skin. But I guess there was never a choice when it came to allowing her into my heart. I took a look at her, and she was already there, hiding between one beat and the next. She is mine in every sense of the word and as vital to me as breathing.

To me. The guy who scoffed at tales of love at first sight even with the living proof of my own parents’ love story and sturdy marriage. If anything, I always thought their whirlwind romance was the exception that confirmed the rule when it came to not believing in something as ineffable as love.

But Trudy sure proved me wrong with a single smile. Usually, when I go up to my cabin in Sylvan Creek, it’s to pretend I’m on vacation while I secretly work away on my laptop to my heart’s content. It’s a little secret stratagem I came up with about three years ago to outwit my mom and Lucy, my baby sister. The women in my life used to think I worked too much and were constantly pestering me to take time off, but I’m not built for idleness. If you want to torture me, send me off to lie down on some beach with no internet connection, no phone in my hand, and a Pina Colada waiting for me. My brain doesn’t do well with vacations because I just don’t know how to shut it off. Relaxing is like poison to me, and I’ve never learned to enjoy the simple act of doing nothing that seems to please so many. You’d think to each is own, right? Well, you’d think that unless you happen to be Sandra or Luce. They were forever hounding me to watch out for stress and take more care of my health, always brandishing about the risk of the onset of cardiac problems if I didn’t start to take it easy every once in a while. After having been sent away for horrifying SPA weekends that made me feel trapped, I finally came up with the idea of buying some land here in Sylvan Creek and building a log cabin that would sit in the untamed forest bordering the town.

It all sounded like a dream to me. I might be a workaholic, but even I could see all the perks of being this close to nature while living in my little secluded log cabin with a hundred acres of green land full of streams, trees, and even a beautiful lake surrounding me. In my imagination, my little cabin was going to be the perfect hermitage, only a short drive down to the charming little town and fortunately far, far away from the never-stopping, busy-beyond-sanity hustle and bustle of my life in Denver.

In my head, the place was meant to be nothing more than a little man-cave where I could hide away to pretend to be lazy while I spent time working and recharging with active pursuits like rock climbing, trekking, and swimming, and maybe an hour or so of fishing here and there. Of course, the concept really pleased my mother, but she had to put her stamp on it and turn my little man-cave log cabin into a seven-bedroom, two-floor sprawling chalet with every comfort and luxury known to man. The place still does the trick, though, and since I spent my first week here, I've finally known some peace, meaning I no longer get pestered about taking that dreaded –and to me, draining– time off.

I love both my life in Denver and my time away more than I could say, and having met Trudy over there makes me cherish that place even more.

Denver is designer wear, fast life, office hours, cutting deals, being a hardass boss, and trying to keep my private life off of the local tabloids that have been hell-bent on attaching the ‘most eligible bachelor’ etiquette to my ass since I turned twenty-one. There’s formality there, sophistication, business meetings, and dinner parties with my parents and their blue-blooded friends. And I like it. My family might come from very old money, but they aren’t your typical status-conscious, cold-hearted, snobby bunch –I got far luckier there than most of the kids I grew up with– but still, sometimes, it’s stifling and having so many responsibilities, and expectations placed on me, not just about my company, but also in regard to my private life can become tiresome, especially if my mom is the one doing the placing, which is often the case.

My life in Sylvan Creek is worlds apart. It’s flannel shirts, jeans, and lumberjack boots. It’s walking in the snow in winter and running by the lake in summer with breathtaking natural backdrops all around me. It’s cooking my own meals and going to sleep early. Everything is slower and simpler over there. It's just being a regular guy as opposite of being a rich and powerful man who has to watch everything he does and says. It's freedom. Freedom to take it easy if I want to and just enjoy nature or to work long hours if I feel it's necessary. It's just going back to the basics, coding, and drawing up my software and hardware projects without constantly being interrupted by my board of directors to look after the business side of things. Or, God forbid, without getting yet another call from well-meaning but down-right annoying as fuck mothers and sisters because they get routed to me by my PA even when I asked not to be disturbed for having said it was a matter of life and death when they are actually calling me to tell me they have just run into yet another perfect woman that I should consider dating if not straight-up marrying. This ever-changing, but always just-wonderful-for-me specimen of woman that in the last ten years or so has always turned out to be nothing but an insipid debutante who won my sometimes naive and hopeful female relatives over by telling them a whole bunch of lies that made them sound like they were a the right match.

The women in my life never call while I'm in my retreat log cabin. I never outright told them not to, but it's as if they don't because of an unspoken agreement. I guess they want to let me have my R my battery was freaking dying on me. By the time I parked, bought a couple of chargers, and plugged in my phone, my head was spinning as I tried to make sense of a situation I still knew too little about. It still pisses me off to admit that, even though I'm not exactly a gullible, naive guy, my mind, too, went in the direction of a clerical mistake that day since I thought there was no fucking way that someone I trusted as much as I did my CFO, someone that had been a dear friend to me for more than seventeen years, and someone I thought of as an invaluable resource to my company, could be doing something to fuck me over, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Fat lot of good it did me to forgo my usual cutthroat, no-nonsense approach to being trusting in the end. I should have had his ungrateful ass chucked out of the nearest window that very day!

I was pacing up and down in front of the hardware store, waiting for the new car charger to get the phone’s battery at least up to thirty percent to call my head of security back and ask him to put Susan, my COO, on the phone so she could enlighten me on just what shit she had been able to sniff out when I saw the cute pink and red sign with the little silhouette of the chubby Cupid sticking an arrow through a heart-shaped cupcake.

After unplugging the phone and switching it back on, something made me walk in the direction of what I figured must have been the new bakery everybody had been talking about two days before when I came into town to hit the supermarket. My phone's ringtone stopped me in my tracks just as I was about to reach the entrance. I picked up after the first ring and told Adam to put Susan on.

She didn't have much to say yet as they were still trying to figure out the trail back to whatever incongruence the accounting department had signaled. She wasn't too keen on telling me outright, but I could say she wasn't exactly thinking it was all due to a simple mistake. I got pissed then. What she was hinting at was unacceptable, unbelievable.

I told her to put the phone on speaker so that Adam could also hear and ordered them to make sure they uncovered whatever the fuck was going on without making waves in the meantime and instructed them to only come back to me when they knew what the problem really was and to be a hundred percent sure before they went around pointing fingers 'cause the shit was no joke.

They mutely listened to me and then yes-sirred-me almost in unison.

I hung up, and when I realized I had walked all the way to the front step of the bakery, I decided I might as well go in for a slice of cake and a cup of coffee. I definitely have a sweet tooth that has gotten irremediably worse since that first meeting with Trudy. I told myself something sweet could do, something to stop my empty stomach from turning sour at the possibilities that my mind was even then weighing and hurriedly discarding.

That was what I wanted going in. Nothing but a slice of chocolate cake. What I got was something else entirely, and saying it was unexpected would be an understatement because that day, my life completely pole-axed on itself as soon as I saw her. I didn't know it yet, but the little, almost forever snowed-in sleepy town that had been for years my perfect, peaceful refuge of solitude, and that had always provided me with all the quiet I needed to work, the place where nothing ever changed and nothing could ever surprise me, was going to change everything for me. All it took was for me to get a hankering for something sweet and a wish to get out of the windy cold of that freezing morning.

I didn’t even put up a fight. I always thought that I would when and if it happened just because that’s how every male friend or relative I’ve known in the course of my life that went through this had always described falling in love like going into war and losing. You gave into the woman that you knew in your heart was meant to be yours, knowing that you were about to take part in a pointless battle if you tried to fight it off, a battle that you knew going in that you were always meant to lose. Yet, when I first laid eyes on my Trudy, there were no thoughts of fighting my feelings off in my head at all. I didn't feel like I was about to lose a battle. If anything, I felt like I was about to make the biggest win of my life. That easily a complete stranger that I had yet to even talk to was carving herself into every single one of my thoughts and claiming a space in my life and in my heart that I didn't even know had been empty and waiting just for her up until that moment.

She was standing there behind the counter looking like an absolute dream in a pair of skin-tight light blue jeans and a butter-yellow fuzzy sweater stretched over her ample, delectable breasts and cute little belly. There was a healthy, rosy glow dusted over her cheeks, and a little impish smile was curving one side of her mouth. Her plump lips were painted coral, and her fawn-like big eyes peered at me from fringed nests of long, dark lashes. A ray of wintery sun was dancing on her golden pixie-cut waves, the dust motes twirling in the air around her face, glittering like fairy dust. I don't know how long I must have stood there, probably looking like a total jackass while I was at it. All thoughts of work-related crises and slices of cake were wiped away from my mind, my heart beating that imperious drumming session in my chest, my hands trembling as I stared at her. She was surrounded by the most delicious smell of pastry, and in the corner of my eye, I could see that the glass counter between us was filled with colorful delicacies of every kind, yet I suddenly wasn't hungry for cupcakes and cookies anymore. I only wanted her. Her smile got bigger with her blush, and that's when she talked to me. Maybe the pissed-off expression had remained frozen on my stunned face, or more likely, she had gotten a glimpse of my angry telephone call outside on the sidewalk; whatever the reason, she knew exactly what to say to me.

“Whatever it is, handsome. I’ll bet you my newly-opened bakery that it’s nothing one of my treats can’t cure. Here, try this. It’s on the house.”

As she spoke, she reached into the display and picked up a chocolate and strawberry cupcake. She ended it to me, her little hands shaking slightly and her voice trembling with an emotion I'm sure I couldn't have been able to recognize if it weren't for the fact that I was feeling it myself. I leaned forward to take the proffered concoction from her, my lips pulling into a slow but steadily growing smile. When our fingers touched as she passed the cupcake to me, we both froze as what, to me, felt like a jolt of electric current zinged from her warm skin through mine. I could barely find my voice to thank her. Less than three minutes in her presence, and I was already all the way gone for her.

And that was before I got to taste her baking.

One bite of that scrumptious dark chocolate perfection was enough to get me hooked. As the taste of the rich, strawberry filling exploded in my mouth, I was sure that only an unfair, capricious god could make this woman look like this fucking hot, bake this fucking good, sing this fucking deeply into my heart, and lower still, and not making her feel even a fraction of what I was already feeling despite the newness of our acquaintance. In the following days, as I proceeded in my conquering campaign of every inch of her soul and heart, I was happy to realize that no unfairness was at play here, thankfully, because it seemed she was moved by my closeness just as much as I was affected by hers. For the first time in my life, maybe –just maybe– I was finally going to catch a break outside of the business arena.

That's when, thinking back on the many – many – men-are-pigs rants I have endured from my baby sister over the years, I decided I would discard my first inclination to go after Trudy with everything I had and make her mine hard and fast, and go for the sweet, thoughtful approach instead. That’s what landed me in this mess.

But this is going to be the first and last mistake I make when it comes to her. She better get ready because she might be a princess to me, and I’ll make damn sure to treat her as one every day of our life if she only gives me a chance, but the kid gloves are gonna come off. No more pussyfooting around and no more harmless flirting that can be taken a thousand different ways. I’m going to put all my cards on the table and show her what’s in my heart.

Even going on the little snippets of conversations we’ve had in between my staring at her and enjoying her blushes, I’ve come to realize my petite, curvy, sugarplum lady is different from any woman I’ve ever met before. I didn't even know I had a type before clapping eyes on her, but she's definitely it.

Thinking about her and the way she makes me feel, I’ve come to the realization that most of the women my mom has tried to foist upon me have been of the svelte, model-thin, pick-at-lettuce-leaves-and-still-complain-about-being-scared-of-getting-fat type. I don't know if it's because of some kind of skewed view of what she thinks I find attractive or because this is just what Denver's high society has on offer, but not a single one of them, even the ones I did find pretty enough to bed, were ever able to make me feel a fraction of what Trudy can make me feel with her spunky attitude full of jokes and smiles, those soft snuggable big curves and her even bigger heart, not to mention that angel's face of hers and the divine scent that seems to come off her every single pore, strawberry, and vanilla. I didn't even know a person could have such a smell forever clinging to them. At first, I thought the sinfully mouthwatering scent was wafting up from her confections, but that wasn't the case. It's just part of her. I could smell it just fine even while standing outside in front of the bakery talking to her while the cold wind whipped us and tinged with a touch of cherry red that creamy complexion of hers to the point that I had to fucking look away from her before I ended up picking her up and kissing the fuck out of her.

One taste of Trudy's cream is all I crave and all I can think about, and there's no point in battling myself while I try to keep her safe from the raging need that's blazing hot and fiery inside of me for her. I’m used to taking what I want in every other area of my life and going at it full force until I can call it mine. I thought doing the same with her would scare her in her softness. That woman is all light and sweetness. There’s more, though. I think someone might have hurt her in the past because there’s this little shadow that comes into her eyes sometimes and clouds them over. I hate that fucking little shadow with a passion and I didn’t want to add to it by being a total brute with her. That’s what has kept me from snatching her up and dragging her back to my cabin to sate my lust on her. It has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. Nothing compares, really. The sheer amount of will it takes me to keep myself from just grabbing her every time I see her, it’s almost a physical strain impossible to withstand at this point.

And maybe while I should have worked better on my strategy, not all my efforts were for nothing. The way she makes me feel, it's a good thing that I could give her almost two weeks to get used to me and see that I meant her no harm. It might be the only good thing that comes out of this mess that I ended up giving her time to come to know me a little before I put her under me.

But now it’s the end of the line.

There's no saving her from my passion, not that I think she would want to be saved in the end since I've caught her checking me out more than once. And thank God for that because I've been spending my nights wide awake and so hard it hurts. At the same time, a part of me thinks about kissing her all over and being soft as fuck with her while I make her mine, and another wants me to sink my teeth and my soul into her sweetness while I fuck her so hard I break the bed under us.

I still don't know which part of me is going to win the first time I put her under me. But the most likely outcome is that, since she is the only woman on earth with the ability to make me feel one minute like a big lump of marshmallow who only wants to pick her up, protect her, and wrap her up in cotton balls, and the next like a raging beast with only thoughts of claiming, breeding and owning in its head, she's gonna get both sides of me, and I'll make sure she will love it any way I give it to her.

In fact, I’m pretty sure she will. I don’t know why I am so certain of this. Maybe it’s because such a passion, such a fire wouldn’t be able to live inside of me for her if I hadn’t seen the same sparks deep into her dark eyes. That need that’s been burning bright in my chest is the same I’ve seen clearly in the way she looks up at me, almost daring me to just forget my gentlemanly upbringing and make her mine over that very same counter that most days has been a veritable protective barrier standing between us.

I’m going to get my ass back to Sylvan Creek ASAP, and I’m going to claim what belongs to me one second after I walk past the doors of her bakery.

I’m going to make her mine.

I’m going to have her cake, and eat her too.

And soon.

She is honest to a fault, sweet as fuck, and the type that wears her heart on her sleeve, so she deserves no less than for me to stop playing games and telling her the truth about what I feel for her and how things are going to be between us from now on.

I’m going to possess every inch of her. I don’t just want that delicious body of hers wrapped around mine. I want to touch souls with her. I want to claim her pussy just as much as I want to claim her heart. I need to put my stamp of ownership on her, inside and out.

Thoughts of the sweet tightness she might be hiding between those voluptuous thighs of hers make my cock harden even more and grow down one leg of my slacks. I adjust myself, growling. I didn’t even know I could fucking growl, but she brings this primal instinct out of me, and I can’t do anything about it, yet I refuse to rub one out. I’m saving it all up for her. There’s going to be no other place for my seed to go other than somewhere between her legs or down her throat for the rest of my life.

I give myself a squeeze, trying to strangle my misbehaving cock into minding me as my hot forehead touches the cool surface of my colossal oak desk.

I take one deep breath after the other as I bring my body under control.

Just to give myself a distraction, I reach for my phone and start to fidget with it.

Damn, how I wish I had pushed a bit and gotten her number at least! I could be talking to her right this minute if I had. Not that a simple phone call could make me feel less than an idiot for waiting, but I’m sure that hearing her honeyed sultry voice would go a long way to make the bitterness inside me smart a bit less.

I rapidly scan my notifications and texts and see that I've got a couple of voicemails. I roll my eyes and briefly stare at the ceiling of my office before getting down to listen.

One is from my sister, and the other is from my mom, so I can already guess what they are about.

Sure enough, Lucy’s voice comes through telling me all about this absolutely perfect chick she’s met through friends. Perfectly beautiful. Perfectly polite. Perfectly educated at an Ivy League college. Just waiting on me to give her a chance to bear me perfectly beautiful and perfectly polite and educated children while she keeps a perfectly good house for me.

I shiver slightly. Yikes.

I fire my sister a quick text because I’m not in the mood to be trapped in a two-hour phone call.

It simply says:

Not interested. Please stop trying to shackle me to perfectly this or that woman, sis.

She answers me only with a sulking emoji:

Luce:

I go back to my voicemail, and my mom’s message is just more of the same. Just the name of the perfectly perfect for me lady in question is different. Uh. Maybe this time, my sister and mother didn’t rehearse their plan of attack together before trying to close the deal. Usually, when they come up with a perfectly good candidate each, they both endorse the same in a given week and leave the other for the next.

Not that it matters. There's no trying to pair me off with someone other than Trudy. As far as I'm concerned, I'm all paired up already, and I'll be sure to let them both know before long. I haven't already because I didn't think it cool to let someone else know what's in my heart before I shared that precious info with the lady who owns it utterly and completely.

I push away my phone and rest back against my swiveling chair, hands threaded over my chest as visions of Trudy's beautiful smile dance before my eyes.

God, I’m so crazy about her. I had no idea a sane man could turn this way when he found his one and only.

No sense in hiding the way she obsesses me.

So, no more waiting. I'm going to ask Trudy out on a proper date.

A date that's going to have to start at my place because there's only one way it's going to end, and that's in my bed. I don't care if all we do is sleep. As long as she lets me hold her all night long, and my need to protect her and keep her always with me gets satisfied, I think I can wait for the rest. Especially if she grants me a taste. I might want to fuck her within an inch of both our lives, but this doesn’t mean my princess isn’t gonna get romance to go with it. We might have missed Valentine’s Day this year, and I can’t turn the clock hands backward, but it doesn’t really matter.

She might not know it yet, but she’s going to be my Valentine. Only kinda late.