16. Christopher
sixteen
Ihear her steps early.
She slept like a log. I didn’t. That’s how I know how well she slept. No tossing and turning. No getting up. Nothing.
Me? All night, I went over what she said when she was in my arms, in no state to say anything sound.
And I also go over what I said to her before she left for Justin’s, when I came back from Emma’s. That there was no space in my life for another woman.
I think back at what she told me she said to Skye, to appease her.
I think back at how she looked at my shirt. At that spot of lipstick, that she clocked the minute I got back. How jealousy ignited fire in her eyes.
I think back at how she looked at my bare chest.
Thirsty.
I want her right there. God, I want her right there, right where she was after being at Lazy’s. Coming onto me. Begging me to make her mine.
But I need her to do that sober. And I need her to take the first step. And the second.
Hell, I need her to take all the steps. To define what she wants, so I can hold myself to that.
Because I want her all the way. And I don’t know what she wants.
That’s where I’m at when she comes in, early, into the kitchen.
Her eyes downcast. Such a turn-on. She doesn’t even do it on purpose, I can tell. She’s genuinely struggling to look me in the eye after what happened last night.
I wish again she hadn’t been so far gone when she came onto me. I was this close to giving in, but in all consciousness, I couldn’t.
But hell, I’m holding onto the memory of her supple body nestled in my arms, her delicate hands lacing behind my neck, her throaty voice whispering in my ear.
Sweet.
Sexy.
So damn tempting.
Her eyelashes flutter, and she raises her gaze to meet mine. I chase away my lust-filled thoughts and focus instead on the fact that it’s ten minutes before six, and that I’m impressed.
Very impressed.
I didn’t expect to see her that early.
She’s holding the mug of coffee I made for her in one hand, and the alarm clock in the other. I didn’t want to try and mess with her phone, so I figured that would do.
“I have several things to say, and I want to say them without being interrupted,” she says.
“Okay.”
“First off, I am very, very sorry for getting drunk last night at Justin’s. I’m sure I broke all sorts of clauses in the apprenticeship contract. If you need to fire me, I understand.” She takes a breath, maybe expecting me to say something, and when I don’t, she continues. “Second, I’m so sorry you had to carry me upstairs. Third, don’t ever, ever stay with me when I am puking again. Ever. Fourth, thank you anyway for staying with me when I was puking. Fifth, thank you so much for the coffee. It was the best coffee ever, and I need to know your secret. Finally,” she takes a deep breath and her eyes lock with mine, “I believe I might have said certain things last night that weren’t exactly savory, and for that, too, I am sorry.”
“Not exactly savory?”
“Unsavory.”
Is she still drunk? “Define unsavory.”
She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Things you didn’t like.”
“There was nothing you said last night that I didn’t like,” I say without hesitation, and I see the shock registering in her.
“Really? ’Cause I’m pretty sure…” she frowns and licks her lips. “I think I remember… I said things to you.”
Yeah, you said things to me I’d wish you’d say again when you’re sober.“You said things to me that you were too drunk for me to take seriously.” My heart hammers really hard in my chest. I don’t like games. I don’t like lies. Just because I can’t be with her doesn’t mean I should lie to her. So I take the jump. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t like these things you said. It just wasn’t a good idea.”
She seems disappointed. “Right. Not a good idea.”
Maybe stupidly, I decide to keep that door from closing entirely. “At the time.”
“At the time?”
“You’d had too much to drink for any kind of decision.” I see her thinking through this. I can’t really make myself clearer. Surely she heard me. She understood me. Right?
“Right.” She sets the alarm clock on the table. “This device from the previous century is the work of the devil. I never want to see it again. Thank you but no thank you.” Then she sets the coffee mug next to it. “And this, I’ll say it again, is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I’d love another, or at least I’d love to know your secret.”
I take her change of topic for what it is. A diversion from a heavier conversation. I’ll let her draw her conclusions on what I said, and I’ll let her take the lead. It’s not like I’m in a position to make a move on her. I’m her boss.
But moreover, it’s not something I should want to invite in my life.
But I’d love to make her coffee every morning, just to see that look on her face. Content. Peaceful. Safe. “Maple syrup,” I say.
“Huh?”
“Maple syrup, not sugar. In the coffee.”
She makes a little O with her lips. Fuck, she has to stop doing those things with her mouth.
Needing to turn my back to her, I settle for making coffee. “So, men only bring misery, huh?”
“Sorry—what?”
“That thing your grandmother told you. Men only bring misery. That true?”
She slumps on a chair and folds one leg under her. “Oh god. What else did I say?”
Things we’re not discussing now.“Nothing wrong with that. I was just wondering.”
“My grandmother was a single mom. And so was my mom. So yeah. I was raised to not get my hopes up. And I mean. Not. At. All.”
“That must have been tough.”
She chuckles. “Not getting my hopes up?”
I have to give her that. Hungover, she still has a sense of humor. “Being a single mom.”
She frowns, her honey eyes soft on me. “You’re a single dad. You would know.”
I set two cups of coffee on the table, one black for me, one the way she likes it. Cream and maple syrup. “Was it tough being raised by a single parent?”
A smile brightens her features. “Best years of my life were with my mom. My grandmother, different story. But my mom? She was perfect. She gave me the best childhood I could dream of. We didn’t have money. My grandmother could have helped, but she never offered to, not that mom would have accepted anyway. So I was always crashing at a neighbor’s place depending on what her shifts were at whatever flavor-of-the-month job she had, but it was her and me against the world.” Her gaze is lost somewhere in the past. “Best years of my life.”
She focuses back on me. “You got nothing to worry about with Skye. My mom wasn’t the best role model in terms of career, if you get my drift.” She blinks away the tears rimming her eyes. “You, on the other hand, are the total package single dad.” And on that, she takes a long sip of coffee. “Mmmm,” she moans.
Christ, she has to stop doing that. The compliments. Now the moaning.
She continues. “I get where you’re coming from—not having space for a woman in your life. You don’t need one.”
My initial chuckle dies down quickly. No, I don’t need a woman. But seeing Alexandra here in my house. In my life. In my arms, even if for the wrong reasons.
I can see the appeal.
She blushes. “God what a stupid thing to say. I need to stop putting my foot in my mouth, don’t I?”
“It’s rather entertaining.” I’m full-on smiling right now.
“Anything else I said last night we need to clear the air about?”
My eyes drop to her lips. “Not right now,” I decide.
“M’kay.” She focuses back on her coffee, but not for long. After a short silence, she says, “What’s your family like?”
“What do you mean.”
She shrugs. “Mom, dad, siblings?”
“Mom, stepfather, two half-brothers.”
“Dad?”
“Nope.”
She nods. “You don’t like to talk about it.”
“Nope.”
“Fair enough. I have another question for you.” She shifts in her chair, and her eyes gleam with excitement.
“Yeah?” I breathe easier.
“That baking competition.”
“What about it.” Funny, when someone else brings it up, I’m annoyed. When it’s her, I want to talk about it.
“Why don’t you want to go for it?”
“Long time ago, I did a few of those. Back in France. It wasn’t a circus on TV like it is here, but it was maybe even more serious and challenging.”
“And? You hated it?”
I shake my head. “I fucking loved it.”
“So?” she straightens on her chair, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“I dunno. Life. Skye. I’d need to be gone for a couple days.”
“Are you kidding? Skye would love you to go. She’s got a bunch of people here who can look after her.”
“Skye wants me to go?” I’m really surprised. She’s never really asked me, although all that talk about Caroline saying I wasn’t the best baker in the country…
“And see her dad on TV? Duh. But this has to be about you, Chris. Don’t do it for anyone else other than you. And let me say, anything you do for you, you do for Skye. What did you like about it back then?”
I’m brought back in time, my emotion tapping into my younger self. “The constraints and how that boosted my creativity,” I say. “The limited time. The challenge. Winning.” Yeah, those were fun times.
Her voice goes soft. “D’you feel like sometimes, you’re caught in the same routine? Baking what sells best, watching the bottom line—”
“Watching the weather and the holiday calendar to figure out my quantities so I’m not left with too much inventory but still made enough to meet demand? Fuck yeah. It’s the business, but…”
“It’s draining,” she finishes.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“You haven’t lost your spark, but…”
“It’d be nice to fan the flames.” A slow smile spreads across my lips. This woman gets me.
My eyes fall to her lips. Again.
She must sense the vibe because she stands quickly from her chair, rinses her cup, and slips into the laundry room to change into her baking clothes.
“There’s a community dinner at Justin’s tonight,” I tell her when she comes back out. “You’ll come, right? Everybody goes.”
“Yeah, sure,” she says, her smile a welcome pang in my chest.