Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
brADLEY
When I get to the bakery, it looks like a flour bomb went off and coated everything in its path. Lined on the counter are trays of freshly baked muffins, croissants, and what appears to be the makings of caramel slices. This woman isn’t just superwoman, she’s a fucking saint.
“Holy shit,” I say, taking in my surroundings. “It looks like you’ve been at it for hours in here.”
She doesn’t even look up from icing some cupcakes. My cupcakes? “Bradley, thank god!”
I move toward her. “You really are inundated, what the hell happened?”
“Well, my weekend baker is down with the flu, Mom and Dad aren’t back until the end of next week, and Rose only works the afternoons, so I’ve no choice but to start now, even though I’m getting up at four o’clock to start again.”
I tilt her chin, and she stops what she’s doing momentarily. “Breathe, Baby Girl, no point getting that pretty head in a tizzy. I might have lied a little about my baking skills, but I can wield a piping bag like nobody’s business. Allow me?”
I feel bad she’s baking some of these goods for me. Here I was thinking that I was doing a good deed by sending her business, not realizing that it would put her under pressure and have her getting up at four a.m.
“I can do it,” she insists.
I take my hand over hers, gently removing the soft bag from her clutches. “I know you can do it. Everyone knows you can do it, the point is, you don’t have to. I’m happy to help, and I can decorate. Just get me an apron and tell me what to do.”
Relief floods her pretty features. “You’re a treasure, B, do you know that?”
Before I can even reply, she stretches up and pecks me on the cheek, but my head moves accidentally and it catches me on the side of my mouth. It’s only a peck, but holy fucking cannoli does my dick feel it. He springs to attention while I try to play it off as cute.
She kisses me all the time… yeah, right. I’ve been fantasizing about this very moment for a while now, while thinking of all the things I said about her being the world’s sexiest mom and how fucking cute she is.
“You know, you keep doing that, Mama, and we’ll never get any prep done.”
She bites her lip, walking backward, waving a spatula at me. “Start piping, buddy boy.”
I put a hand over my heart. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I’ll certainly be driven to falling off a cliff if I don’t get these orders done.”
“Have you even had a break today?” I ask.
“Yes, I scarfed down some lunch between orders,” she says. “And I went up for a shower and to change just before you got here. I know it mustn’t look like it.” She looks down at her flour covered apron and laughs.
“I feel bad,” I say. “I didn’t mean to put you under duress. I don’t even care about the order anyway, it’s not a big deal.”
She shakes her head, putting mitts on to pull something else out of the oven. “That’s not how we do things at Sweet Confetti, Bradley. I wasn’t expecting half my staff to go down with the flu, but it happens. You have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get on with it.”
I start piping, copying what she was doing on the previous cupcake. “Nobody thinks you can’t get on with anything,” I remind her. “You’re too hard on yourself, Chels. You need to give yourself a break.”
“How can I when my life could be up in smoke with the bakery sale?”
“I’ve got a strategy, don’t worry about that,” I say. “It’s all under control.”
“Is that the news you had to tell me?”
“Yes, that the date has been set for the last weekend at the end of the month. So we’ve got time to work everything out.”
“I know you mentioned it was going up for auction, but it terrifies me.” Her eyes open wide.
“It’s gonna be fine, Baby Girl. I know it.”
“I know we haven’t had a real conversation about any of that yet, but if it involves you having to bail me out of a bad situation, then I just want to say I still don’t want your money. I just have to keep scouting for a potential new building, should the new owners want to take over this shop.”
“While I agree about the conversation part, Sweet Confetti is yours no matter what, it won’t get to the point where you have to leave this place. I want in, Chels.” Our eyes meet and I take a breath. “Into the business, I mean. As your partner.”
“In the business,” she repeats. It isn’t a question.
“Right.”
She blows out a breath like she’s taking it all in. “You said some pretty flirty things to me,” she goes on, surprising me. We’ve kinda been dancing around the whole soccer incident. “And then there’s that whole Mindy episode.”
“Let’s never speak of Mindy ever again,” I chuckle. “That woman scares me.”
She laughs too, and we work in companionable silence for a moment. “To be honest, she scares me a little, too.”
“I wanted to kiss you,” I blurt. Sometimes my filter just doesn’t want to compute.
She halts, and while our eyes don’t meet, I can see her hand shaking. I don’t want her to be afraid of this, or do anything she isn’t comfortable with. Ever. “Is that wrong?” I ask.
She clears her throat, then begins cutting through the caramel slices with a hot knife.
I watch as it glides through the biscuit base like she’s cutting butter, leaving perfectly even sized squares.
“We can both admit that lately things have changed. We’ve both been a little… flirty, and well, cheeky to be honest.”
I snort a laugh. “Cheeky?”
“I don’t know if anyone has told you this, probably not since your nickname is Scrooge McDuck.”
“What?” I scoff.
“But you do have a playful side.”
“Only to you,” I mutter. “Trust me, you’re the only one who brings out that ‘playful’ side in me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, by the way. In fact, I like it; seeing a new side to you. Well, not new to me, you’ve always been sweet to me… kind.”
Our eyes finally meet. “Because I care about you.” I love you.
“And I care about Deaton, too, and I want you to know that if something happens with us, we make a pact; we will always be friends. I’m never gonna hurt you, Chels.
I’m not perfect, heck, I’m not even sure that I deserve a shot, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t want one. ”
She nods. “A pact. I can do that.”
“Do you want something to happen, Chels?”
She swallows hard, setting the tongs she was holding onto the counter. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
“A verbal approval to kiss you would be appreciated.” I smirk.
“Who said anything about kissing?”
My heart leaps as I set down my tools, moving toward her. She takes a step back, her ass hitting the counter behind her. “You wanna say that again?”
“Who said anything—” She doesn’t have a chance to get the words out.
I cup her face, leaning down, the smell of cake mix and chocolate in the air.
The heat of the kitchen only adds to the adrenaline coursing through me as I press my lips to hers.
Of course, they’re soft, sensuous and perfect, just like her.
It’s slow to begin with, then she makes this little moan in the back of her throat and, fuck it, I swipe the spatula and the oven mitts off the counter behind her and lift her, planting her ass on the hard surface.
She wraps her arms around my neck as I deepen the kiss, my hands on her hips as I pull her to the edge so I’m pressing against her. All of me.
She gasps. “Holy shit,” she breathes in between kisses.
“Fuck. You taste like vanilla cupcakes,” I say.
“Such a romantic.”
I rub my nose against hers. “Chels, I want you. I can’t dance around this anymore. We’re both adults. We’re both single. I can’t stay away from you a minute longer.”
Her breath catches. “I want you, too. I can feel you, Brad.”
“Yeah, I’m hard as a rock around you. You’ve no idea the torture I’ve put my palm through.” She bites her lip, and I free it from her teeth. “You keep doing that and I can’t say I’ll be much of a gentleman where this countertop is concerned.”
“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”
I grin, hardly able to believe we’re doing this. “Your wish is my command.”