Chapter 7
“Note to self: never touch a woman’s piping bag without permission.” ~ Jeremy
Jeremy
I yawn as I settle at the dining room table to get some work done. I slept surprisingly well, but not nearly long enough, judging by how the lights on the main street in Smuggler’s Rest aren’t on yet.
While my computer warms up, I glance around Parker’s loft. I have to admit it’s cute. Small but thoughtfully done. Despite being one room, it doesn’t feel cramped.
There are exposed beams overhead, polished smooth and stained the color of driftwood. The kitchen gleams with copper accents and sea-glass cabinet knobs. A ship’s wheel – repurposed as a quirky towel rack – hangs on one wall.
Everything is crisp and clean with throw pillows in mermaid-scale patterns. The craftsmanship is solid – real wood, real stone, not the fake mass-produced crap you usually find in overpriced rentals. This place says: someone built this with their hands. And someone weirder decorated it.
As I work, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon grows stronger. Parker must be baking. Say I’m a caveman but I love the idea of working on my computer while my woman bakes in the kitchen.
Except Parker isn’t my woman and – judging by the hate spitting from her eyes whenever she glances my way – she never will be.
Which is good. I don’t want a woman. They can’t be trusted. Especially when they get a look at my bank account. And who has time for one anyway? Short affairs with women whose names I can barely remember is the way to go.
There’s a crash downstairs and I startle. Shit. My fingers slipped on the keyboard. Where was I? I scan through the lines of code in an effort to figure it out.
But then there’s another crash.
Damnit. I’m never going to figure out what I did with this racket going on. What is Parker doing downstairs? Pounding cookies into submission? Baking shouldn’t be this loud.
I slam my laptop shut and tromp down the stairs. I knock on the door to the bakery, but I don’t wait for her to respond before entering.
“What are you….” I pause when I realize Parker is decorating a cake. And I don’t mean decorating in the way Mom used to. This cake is amazing. There’s a mermaid, a treasure chest, and what appears to be a pirate.
Parker finishes the mermaid’s tail before glancing up at me. “What do you want?”
“I heard some loud bangs.”
“Wasn’t me.” She motions to the cake. “I’ve been too busy to bang around the kitchen.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
She sets the piping bag on the table before stretching out her wrist and wiggling her fingers.
“Are you hurt?”
“Fine. Just cramping from working on this monster of a cake all morning.”
I don’t hesitate. I grasp her hand and begin to massage her fingers. She moans and my cock twitches. It wants to hear her moan while I’m massaging other parts of her body. Its vote is for her breasts, but it wouldn’t mind her ass either.
Her eyes close and her head falls back, exposing her neck I want to nibble on. My cock is on board with this plan.
“I should hire you to massage my hand after every cake decorating session.”
I grunt. “Sorry, darling, you can’t afford me.”
She snatches her hand away. “Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Moneybags.”
My cock deflates and I sigh. “I was joking.”
“Joking about money isn’t funny,” she snarls.
“Sorry. Sometimes I forget….”
“Forget what?” she asks when I trail off. “That not everyone in the world is made of money? That money doesn’t actually grow on trees? Pray tell. What do you forget?”
I run a hand through my hair. “All of the above?”
“Whatever. If you want coffee, grab yourself a cup from the machine. It’s easy to use. An idiot could figure it out.”
I get the hint. I’m the idiot.
“Thanks. I could use some coffee.” I start toward the café but then there’s another loud bang. “What is happening outside?”
I don’t wait for her answer before heading out the back door. Parker follows me. I search the area for the cause of the noise. There’s a truck with a ladder rack parked in the middle of the street.
“What is the truck doing?”
Parker sighs. “I love this time of year.”
She hasn’t cleared up my confusion one bit.
She smiles up at me. “They’re hanging up the Christmas lights and decorations.”
“Now? It’s past Thanksgiving.”
“Which is the whole point.” I must appear confused – I am confused – since she explains. “The businesses of Smuggler’s Hideaway have an agreement. No Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving.”
“Meanwhile, the rest of the world has been buying Christmas candy since before Halloween.”
Her nose wrinkles. It’s adorable. I want to kiss it. “I doubt every single country in the world has been eating Christmas candy since Halloween.”
“Nah. Just the civilized ones.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and I try not to look but my eyes slip and I get a glimpse of her cleavage. It’s magnificent. I fear I’m going to be spending a lot of time fantasizing about it while in her bed above her bakery.
“I forgot you think Smuggler’s Hideaway is Podunk central.”
I cringe. I never should have used the word Podunk. In my defense, I was lost and annoyed at being sent on a wild goose chase.
“What kind of Christmas decorations do they put up? Mermaids? Pirates?”
“Are you making fun of the decorations in the loft? You can go stay at the Mermaid Hotel instead. They haven’t renovated in thirty years but you won’t have to deal with quirky decorations.”
I was joking again. But I know better than to admit to it. Someone is a bit prickly.
A man jumps out of the truck and Parker waves to him. “Hey, Flynn.”
He grins as he saunters toward us. “Parker, my baking queen, your Pearl Diver Pie was delicious as usual.”
He hugs her and I bite back a growl. He shouldn’t be touching her.
What the hell? I don’t do jealousy. And certainly not over a small-town baker. But the fire in my belly calls me a liar.
“Who’s this?” I ask and they pull apart.
“Flynn, Jeremy. Jeremy, Flynn. Flynn is the local contractor and all-around handyman. Jeremy is staying in the loft above the bakery.”
I’m surprised Parker didn’t mention I’m a billionaire. Most women can’t wait to share the information as if they’re special by association to me. Maybe she isn’t like most women?
Flynn offers me his hand and he squeezes mine as we shake. He thinks he can scare me away from Parker? He has another thing coming.
I squeeze his hand harder in return. We stare at each other as we each try to squeeze the other’s hand as hard as possible. My bones crack, but I don’t give up.
Parker pushes her way in between us. “What is wrong with you two? Why don’t you whip out your dicks and I can measure them?”
Flynn smirks. “Sophia might kill me if you come near my dick.”
Parker rolls her eyes. “Sophia would totally understand when I explain the context.”
Flynn smiles. “Yeah, my girl would.”
His girl? Is Parker not his girl? Is he cheating on Parker? Or the other way around?
I blow out a breath. This is not me. I don’t get jealous. I’m not possessive. Besides, Flynn did say Sophia wouldn’t want Parker around his dick. They’re not involved. I need to calm down.
“What are you up to?” Parker asks Flynn.
“Getting the Christmas decorations and the lights up.” Flynn frowns. “But my crew abandoned me.”
“Abandoned you?”
“A few too many drinks at Bootlegger last night.”
Parker giggles. “At least it’s not Mermaid Karaoke season.”
“Mermaid Karaoke?” I ask.
She waves away my question. “It’s a tourist thing in the summer. You’ll be long gone by then.”
She can’t wait to get rid of me. I wish the feeling was mutual.
“Hey! You’re an engineer, aren’t you?” she asks.
“A software engineer.”
“But you know about electricity and all that stuff.”
“All that stuff?”
“This is a good idea,” Flynn says.
I glance back and forth between them. “What idea? I didn’t hear an idea.”
“You can help Flynn with the decorations,” Parker declares.
“I need to finish my coding work.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “The same work you couldn’t concentrate on because you heard a few little thumps outside?”
“Yes.”
She shoves me toward Flynn. “Help him. It’ll clear your mind. And give you more energy than coffee.”
“Doing manual labor will give me energy?”
Her response? She waves as she returns to the bakery.
Flynn laughs beside me and I scowl at him. “I wasn’t laughing at you, but you have to admit Parker totally conned you.”
She didn’t con me. I let her con me. Because she’s right. I am having a hard time concentrating on my work. And I could use a break. How did she know? She notices entirely too much about me.