Chapter 6
“Nothing burns faster than cookies… except boundaries.” ~ Parker
Parker
Bake the pies with rum and sugar,
Fa la la la la, la la, yarrrr.
Stir 'til pirates start to stagger,
Fa la la la la, la la, yarrrr.
Roll the crust with flair and flourish,
I sing at the top of my voice as I spoon the dough for the Kelpie Crunch cookies onto a baking sheet and shove it in the oven.
I set the timer since I have no desire to scrape burned cookies from my baking sheet this morning. And even less desire to deal with the fire department. Although, I wasn’t joking about how cute the new firefighter is. Not as sexy as a certain billionaire, though.
Jeremy. Now there’s a sexy man I wouldn’t mind watching run into my bakery. Preferably without a shirt on. With his hair all messy and his light brown eyes focused on me.
Phew. It’s getting hot in here.
Too bad Jeremy’s a billionaire. Men with money are off limits with a capital O and a hell to the no. I’ve learned my lesson there and I don’t need a repeat.
I shove all thoughts of men and their treachery away and gather the ingredients for my baked peaches and cream whiskey muffins. I sing as I get to work.
Roll the crust with flair and flourish,
Hide the moonshine, don’t be slow!
If the smugglers start to scurry,
Feed them pie, then out they go!
“What are you singing?” a man asks from behind me.
I scream and grab a weapon as I whirl around to confront him.
Jeremy chuckles. “What are you going to do with a pastry brush? Brush me with butter?”
I frown at the pastry brush. I thought I’d grabbed my rolling pin. A rolling pin can do some damage. Trust me. You don’t want a rolling pin to the skull.
“What in the name of Kraken are you doing in here?”
He lifts a brow. “Kraken?”
“Do you not know what a Kraken is? Gigantic tentacled beast feared for its ability to engulf entire ships and cause deadly whirlwinds?”
“I wasn’t expecting to be compared to a mythical sea creature this morning.”
I start to explain how Krakens aren’t mythical but then I realize I have more important questions. “Why are you in my kitchen? What makes you think you can just waltz right inside here?”
Typical billionaire behavior. They think they can do whatever they want because they have money. News flash. Not everyone is impressed with money.
“Sorry. I did knock but you must not have heard me.” He pauses but when I don’t admit to being too loud to hear a knock, he continues, “I tried the door and it was unlocked.”
“And you thought, ‘Hey! A woman working alone in her kitchen won’t mind if a strange man shows up’.”
“I’m not a strange man. We’ve met before. I’m Eli’s friend.”
I could tell him how most women are murdered by men they know but let’s face it, facts won’t make a difference to this man.
“What do you want?” I check the time. “At six in the morning.”
He flinches a bit at my comment on time. Shocker. Does the billionaire actually have a conscious?
“I …um…” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Heard you have a loft for rent.”
“I seriously doubt my loft is good enough for a billionaire to stay in.”
He shrugs. “As long as there are no babies around, I’m good.”
I purse my lips. “What kind of man hates babies?”
“I don’t hate babies.”
I snort. “And I don’t love chocolate and have the hips to prove it.”
His gaze dips to my hips and his eyes flare. Whoa. Flare? My chronic lack of sleep must be causing hallucinations. No way billionaire Jeremy’s eyes flared when he looked at my hips.
He blows out a breath. “Seriously. I don’t hate babies. But I do need to work and Stephanie has colic.”
I motion toward the mess in the kitchen. “I doubt I’m any quieter than Stephanie.”
“As long as you’re not baking at 2 a.m., we won’t have a problem.”
“I have been known to bake at 2 a.m. before.”
He flicks a hand in dismissal. “Baking won’t bother me.”
Screw the smugglers! Can’t he buy a hint?
“I only rent by the month in the off-season.” It’s a lie, but the idea of having this man who my hormones want to throw a party for in close proximity is a bit more than my poor brain can handle.
“A month sounds good. In fact, let’s say until the end of the year.”
“I thought you were only visiting for the weekend.”
He smirks. “Paying attention to how long I’m staying?”
More like when he’s leaving.
“You haven’t seen the place yet. It won’t meet your billionaire standards.”
He rubs his hands together. “Let’s see this place then.”
I try to think of another reason why he won’t want the place but I’m all out. “Fine,” I mumble and grab the keys from a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”
“There’s a private entrance,” I explain as I go outside.
I unlock the door to the apartment and motion him forward but he doesn’t move. “After you.”
Awesome. He’s going to stare at my jiggly butt the whole time. I try to control how much it jiggles but give up and end up running up the stairs instead.
“This door has another lock on it,” I explain as I unlock the second door.
I step inside the loft. “This is it. It’s only one room, but you have everything you need. Kitchen, bathroom, living room, sleeping alcove.”
I stop speaking when I realize Jeremy isn’t listening. He’s wandering around the space, touching everything.
“Is there Wi-Fi?” he asks as he opens the bathroom door to inspect inside.
“Wi-Fi and you have all the streaming channels you could dream of on the television.” The booking agency I use to rent out the loft during the summer insisted on it. I tried explaining how no one who visits the island of Smuggler’s Hideaway watches television, but they wouldn’t listen.
“Good.” He exits the bathroom and stalks toward me. “I’ll take it.” He holds out his hand for the keys.
“I’ll need you to pay for the month in advance and I also require a five-hundred-dollar security deposit in case of any damage.”
“Will you accept a check?”
I chew on my bottom lip as I consider it. I don’t usually accept checks. But this is Eli’s friend and a billionaire. I should probably make an exception.
“Never mind,” he grumbles and I whip my head up to meet his gaze. Except his gaze isn’t on my eyes. It’s on my lip. And his light brown eyes have darkened with passion. With passion?
Get ahold of yourself, Parker Shaw. No billionaire is interested in a chubby baker living in a small town on a small island.
“Check’s fine,” I squeak.
He grins. “It’s okay. You don’t have to make an exception for me.” He whips out his phone. “I’ll transfer the money now.”
“You don’t even know how much it is yet.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Thanks for reminding me you have money to burn. The alarm on my phone goes off. Speaking of burning.
“My cookies!” I rush down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Jeremy chases after me. “Slow down! You’re going to break your neck.”
I ignore him as I reach the bottom of the stairs and fly out the door. My apron catches on the latch and I’m flung backwards. Straight into Jeremy’s arms.
“You need to be careful,” he growls.
My skin tingles where he touches me. I wonder how it would feel if he touched other areas of skin. Would it tingle, too? My breath catches as I imagine his fingers kneading my breasts. I moan.
“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
My cheeks heat as embarrassment hits me. “I’m fine,” I croak.
His brow wrinkles. “You’re flushed. Maybe—”
My alarm chimes again. My cookies! I push away from him and run toward the kitchen. I fling the door open and rush to the oven. I remember to grab a towel at the last second before removing the cookies.
I place the baking sheet on the prep table before studying the cookies.
“They aren’t burnt. Good. I hate the smell of burnt cookies.”
Jeremy chuckles and I startle. I forgot all about him in my haste to get to my cookies.
“Burn cookies often?”
“Only when I’m distracted by someone desperate for a place to stay because he’s afraid of a little baby.”
He scowls. “Send me an invoice.”
He stomps off. Once the door is closed behind him, I slump against the table. Too close for comfort. Another second in Jeremy’s arms and I would have forgotten all about his wealth and begged him to carry me upstairs and have his wicked way with me.
Not happening. This woman does not get involved with billionaires. Not anymore, at least.