12. Chapter 12
Classic rock music blares over the shop speakers, suggesting Jaxon won rock, paper, scissors with Mira this morning. Fighting for control over the music is a thing around here. It doesn’t matter to me either way. When working, my brain becomes a whirling, vibrant mess, and I’m blissfully lost in its noisy mosh pit. Except for today. Today, I’m on the distraction train, Choo-Choo, Mother Fucker!
I came in early today hoping to work on a sketch for a client coming in this afternoon. Business has picked up, allowing me to build up my own clientele. There’s even talk about me tattooing full time.
My phone buzzes next to me and I glance over to see it’s fucking Billy… again. I roll my eyes. This is the third time he’s called in the last hour an d that’s on top of the five text messages. A group of guys are going cliff diving tomorrow morning and he wants me to come.
I would normally jump at a chance for an adrenaline spike, but the last few times haven’t felt right. The appeal just isn’t there anymore.
Fuck… I think… I think everyone is getting to me with all the ‘Y ou don’t have to always take the risk ,’ talk. Blah, blah, blah. I enjoy taking risks.
Risks were not an option growing up. I put my head down and tried not to make any waves. That just left me angry, so I started pushing the boundaries that I never got to.
The need to feel alive was a suffocating pressure, a desperate craving for something more; to feel like I mattered, not like something worthless that could be discarded.
I learned how to go numb in the system, only allowing myself to feel through my brushes of a paint stroke, and nothing more. And it was enough… until it wasn’t, and I needed to feel life beneath my feet.
Another text lights up my phone. Can he not take the hint? Irritation sits under my skin. Billy isn’t even a decent friend. Or an actual friend, for that matter. We party and do crazy shit, but I don’t even know his last name, and I doubt he knows mine. That says something. I ignore him.
It doesn’t take long for my number one distraction to swing back around and take up residence in my head again. Olly .
I keep replaying the other night over and over in my head. The way he kissed me. The way he sucked me to within an inch of my life. The way he looked at me, past my shiny shell, sent shivers down my spine.
My obsession is feeling less like an obsession and more like a… friendship? With kissing and blow jobs?
I’m in too deep and the odds of this blowing up in my face are high .
“Hey, Jasper.”
Another distraction.
I look to see Dom leaning against the door of my workstation.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I was thinking of heading over to Dragonfly for lunch. Do you wanna go?”
I look down at my watch and see it’s already past noon. “When are you leaving?”
He shrugs. “I was just finishing up inventory at my station, so say, fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah, ok.”
I go back to finishing up what I’m working on, once again getting lost in the zone until Dom says he’s ready to go and we head out.
Dragonfly is busy, but we snag seats along the back wall.
“Hey guys,” Spencer greets us.
“How’s it going?” Dom asks.
“Oh, you know, just another day of running around with my head chopped off.”
“And how is the spy?” I ask, because I still don’t trust the tiny human.
Spencer beams, and it’s contagious. Happiness radiates from him.
“She’s amazing,” he says, as he practically twirls. “We somehow timed her naps to be over the lunch rush. I don’t know how long that’s gonna last, but hopefully, until I get another server hired.” He looks around at the busy café. “This tiny little town has really come into its own, hasn’t it?”
“It has. Even Olly is hiring and expanding with the idea of the bakery. ”
I know I was grumpy about him stepping away from The Diner, but I’m happy for him. It’s the idea of leaving something stable for something uncertain that makes me nervous. I’m fully aware it’s not me taking the risk here. Maybe that’s why it makes me nervous.
Spencer gives me a knowing look, and I roll my eyes.
“Beckett just pushed out a bunch of orders, so the wait for food shouldn’t be too long. What can I get you guys?”
“I’ll have the club sandwich with fries,” Dom says.
“And I’ll have the BLT.” They both chuckle and I wave them off. “Whatever!”
“Hey, I’m not saying anything. I had it two days in a row.”
“It’s just so good,” I whine.
“Tell me about it. I pay him, and he won’t even tell me what the secret is. I mean, it’s a BLT, for Christ’s sake!” Spencer yells extra loud.
“Never!” Beckett yells back through the swinging kitchen door.
“See!”
Dom eyes the door. “He’s stubborn, that’s for sure.”
The sound of pots and pans crashing together, followed by a string of colorful curse words, filters through the door, making Spencer jump and Dom frown.
“Is he all right?” Dom asks.
Spencer looks toward the door, and I can see the heavy worry in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll go check on him.” Spencer sighs. “He’s been more on edge than normal, and yesterday, I heard him yelling on the phone with someone. It was a pretty heated discussion. I’m worried about him.”
“Jaxon has been worried, too,” Dom says. “I’ll see if I can get him to talk to me. ”
Spencer nods his head. “Yeah, ok. Thanks. Your food should be out soon,” he says, tapping the table before greeting another customer.
“Have you thought about Jaxon’s offer to tattoo full-time?”
I shrug and reply, “I guess so. I still want to do piercings. But when I applied for this job, it was as a tattoo artist because I wanted a way to still create art.”
Dom winks. “We all did. Why do you think Jaxon picked each one of us? Tattoos are not just drawings on skin—especially not to Jaxon. It’s art. You’re talented, Jasper. Your creations should be displayed, hung on walls for people to admire.”
I bristle at the compliment, and Dom laughs, changing the subject. “So, how’s Olly?”
Next subject!
“Wha… what? How would I know how Olly is doing?”
“Because you were spotted at the Farmers Market last weekend together. Then there’s the whole ‘ Spencer Baby Heist .’ Finn had me on standby in case the authorities got involved and Spencer needed a character witness.”
Geez, call a guy out.
“I just wanted to make sure that he was ok and not stressing out. A baby gets left next to a dumpster and we all know Olly gets frazzled easily,” and then goes as cool as a cucumber at the flip of a switch like a sex god, but I don’t say that.
“He asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. He was being nice, and I wasn’t going to turn down free food.”
“Sure, you stick with that,” Dom says with a low rumble.
Yes, ok, there’s something going on between Olly and me, but I’m not ready to share when even I don’t understand what’s happening .
Life is spinning around in my head like a tornado. It needs to settle so that I can see clearly. The upcoming doctor’s appointment is a constant weight on my mind, a heavy cloud of worry that I can’t shake.
I didn’t plan to go to Olly’s today. I just got in my car after work and this is where it took me. So, when he doesn’t answer, I let myself in… with the key that he never moved, I would like to point out. If he didn’t want me to use it, he should’ve moved it.
I lean against the wall to the kitchen, watching Olly covered in flour… and is that frosting? And what is he doing to that poor mixer?
“Do you need some alone time?” I ask, making my presence known.
Olly jumps, “ Ahhhh ! Why Jasper? Just why do you have to scare me like that?”
I put my hand up in defense. “Hey, I knocked at least three times. You didn’t answer. I knew you were home, so I got worried.”
Olly scrunches his face like I’d just said something wildly unexpected.
“Shit, what did I do now? At least this time, I wasn’t standing in a dark living room waiting for you?”
“And you know what? I appreciate that.” Olly cracks a smile. The tension in my chest loosens, followed by a tiny flutter when he smiles. It’s been doing that a lot lately and I don’t think it’s the meds.
I step further into the kitchen. “What are you working on?”
“I’m testing out some cupcakes,” Olly says. “But my mixer, Juan, is causing me some heartbreak. ”
His ridiculously mean yet somehow gentle look at the problem mixer has me holding back a chuckle.
“ Juan , huh?”
Olly laughs. “According to my grandfather, Juan was named after a sexy local Mexican baker he and my grandmother met on their honeymoon. I chose not to ask any follow-up questions.”
“I have so many follow-up questions.”
Olly sighs, flipping the switches back and forth on the old-powdered blue mixer, with no sign of life. “I might have to mix this last batch by hand.”
“Do you want some help?”
He eyes me curiously. “Yes, since you’re here and all, I might as well put you to work. I’m surprised you’re here, actually. With the number of times you’ve helped me, I figured you’d be too scared to come over. It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you.”
That’s on me. I should have reached out sooner.
I walk around the island, sliding next to him, leaning in. “You could never scare me, Olly,”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” It’s a quiet murmur, but I hear it. My heart twinges at the thought I made him feel that way.
“So, what do you need me to do?” I ask, trying to deflect the emotions building in my chest.
“Can you line the cupcake sheet with the paper molds while I finish mixing the batter? Then we can make the frosting while it’s cooking.”
“You have just a little…” I say, swiping at some frosting on his cheek and bringing it to my lips.
His eyes go wide in embarrassed horror as I taste the sweet, sugary cream, pooled with heat and an underlying sense of need.
Olly clears his throat, fumbling with the whisk in his hand. “I’m making a few different kinds.”
I go about my task, placing the paper baking cups in the tin as he continues. “Marcus called me yesterday. You know, the investor in Alex’s company.”
My hand slips, knocking into the tin, which I quickly grab before it hits the floor. Shit! Way to play it cool, Jasper. “Oh, yeah?”
“They’re hosting a carnival. Marcus said they put it on for the kids at The Matthew House every year.”
The carnival was Matthew’s idea; his project that no one could ever say no to, even though I told him many times he didn’t have to. Kids at The Matthew House don’t get to experience things like carnivals. They didn’t know what it means to run around stuffing your face full of cotton candy and Matthew’s favorite—cupcakes.
“Anyway, Marcus called and said the person they hired to make cupcakes broke her arm.” Olly pours the batter into the baking tins. “I assume Alex recommended me.”
I hum, not making eye contact.
“This is the perfect opportunity for me to test out some recipes. Jacob is going to call me to discuss the specifics. But I was in the baking mood, so I thought I would get a head start.”
“What are you making?” I ask, looking at the mess covering every surface of his kitchen.
“I don’t want to go too crazy, because, well, kids.” He laughs with a lightness I don’t see too often. He looks really happy .
Be happy, Olly, even if I don’t know how to let myself be.
“I’m going to make chocolate peanut butter with caramel drizzle, and strawberry shortcake with strawberry filling and a whipped vanilla frosting. I haven’t decided on a third yet.” Olly is practically buzzing as he lists off the different creations.
He has a glow about him when he talks about baking. I see it now. I see why he needs to do this.
“You know,” I say. “I think a classic vanilla would be an excellent choice for the third cupcake.”
Olly’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “Oh, I could make a classic vanilla with a vanilla bean frosting. Yes, that will be perfect!”
“Sounds delicious.” I lean in real close. “Sign me up for one of each.” My voice has gone low and husky, sounding nothing like me.
“Maybe as a reward for helping, I’ll let you taste test the final product,” Olly says, the corner of his mouth ticking up.
“Do I get to lick the spoon?”
Olly chokes out a cough. “Licking the spoon is a rite of passage. If it was Juan, I would even let you lick the beaters.”
I smirk. Cheeky. “I hope we’re licking spoons later.”
Olly blushes before clearing his throat and placing the next batch in the oven.
He leans against the counter and lets out a sigh. “I think it’s time to say goodbye to Juan.”
“He looks pretty old, but everyone loves a good age gap.”
A smile cracks the corner of his mouth. “I knew it was coming. I was just hoping I had more time. ”
Together, we clear off on the counter, so we have more room to work while Olly tells me stories about his grandparents. He calls them the greatest chef and the greatest baker of their generation.
The oven timer goes off and Olly dons his sexy baker’s mitts, pulling out the cupcakes. I wonder if he has a cute little apron hidden somewhere?
Setting them to cool, he then pulls out a giant mixing bowl. “Let’s make the whipped frosting while these cool. We never got around to making the whipped cream the other night,” he says, looking at me out of the corner of his eye as he adds ingredients.
No, we did not. We also have not talked about what happened either. I was avoiding it as much as possible. If I don’t think about it, then I don’t need to talk about it. Right?
I do feel guilty I didn’t reach out, though. And the thought that Olly thinks it was because of him? Heart-wrenching. He doesn’t deserve that. And I did it to him.
Talking, I guess, is the adult thing to do, but flirting also feels like a good substitute for the conversation.
Flirting I can do.
“Hey, no licking the spoon until the end,” Olly says, trying to bat my hand away as I steal a taste of frosting, bringing my finger to my lips, sucking.
I laugh, taking another swipe. “You seem to have a little something right here,” I say, accidentally getting frosting on his very kissable lips. Oh no, what a shame.
Olly’s breath hitches as his body sways into mine.
Lean into me. Let me feel you.
“You are a total mess, Olly,” I say, my finger tracing his lips, smearing the frosting. He whines, darting his tongue out to catch a taste.
“You missed a spot.” I lean in, taking his lips in a kiss before sucking them into my mouth, licking them clean.