Chapter 16
“Dinner is not necessarily a date. Not even if a fancy car's involved.” ~ Parker
Parker
I raise my hands in the air and stretch my back. I moan as the motion causes muscles that haven’t moved in hours to contract.
“Do you need a backrub?” Jeremy asks and I clutch my chest before whirling around to face him.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.”
“The door was open.”
Maybe because I had a tiny mishap with my Merry Mermaid Macaroons. Macaroons are delicate. I shouldn’t have used a blowtorch to caramelize the sea-green drizzle. They were perfect as they were. But I wanted to make them even better.
Perfectionists should not have access to blowtorches.
“I forgot.” Liar. Liar. Macaroons on fire. “Do you need coffee? Holly’s working in the café. She can make you one. No charge.”
“Actually.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls back onto his heels. “I had a question.”
“If it’s whether I can remove the batteries from the smoke alarms to stop their insistent blaring, the answer is no.
The fire department gets mad when I fiddle with the smoke alarms. The last time it happened, they threatened to cut off my supply of sugar.
No one cuts off a baker’s supply of sugar. ”
He chuckles. “I have no intention of touching your smoke alarms or your sugar supply.”
“Good. You may live.”
“Thank you, my bakery queen.” He bows.
“Finally! Someone who understands my need to be referred to as queen.”
“I’ll call you queen from now on if you stop referring to me as Scrooge.”
I scratch my chin as I pretend to contemplate his offer. “Sorry. No deal. You are a Scrooge and as such deserve to be referred to as one. Stop being a Scrooge and I’ll stop calling you Scrooge.”
“Not enjoying snow – which is cold and wet – doesn’t make me a Scrooge.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What about complaining about me singing Christmas Carols?”
“You were singing about pirates staggering.”
“And? What’s your point? Pirates do stagger.”
“Pirates aren’t Christmassy.”
“They are when they’ve been drinking Christmas moonshine all night.”
“Everyone in Smuggler’s Hideaway sure loves to discuss moonshine.”
I freeze. “Have you not sampled any of Smuggler’s Hideaway’s moonshine yet? Your buddy Eli makes several flavors at Buccaneer’s Whiskey & Distillery.”
He shivers. “I learned freshman year of college not to drink anything Eli offers me ever again.”
“Landlubbers always fall for it.”
“Fall for what?”
My kitchen timer goes off and I rush to my oven. This batch of macaroons is perfect. I remove the tray and set it on the table. Once they’ve cooled, I’ll fill them with green buttercream. The red and green combination is perfect for Christmas.
“Go ahead and get your coffee.” I motion to the café without lifting my gaze from my perfectly round perfections.
Jeremy clears his throat. “Actually…”
When he doesn’t finish, I lift my head and meet his gaze. “Actually?”
“I wanted to invite you to dinner.”
“Wanted to or still do?”
He smiles and my knees go weak when those dimples make an appearance. Somewhere I can hear an alarm shouting danger but I ignore it. I have a lot of experience in ignoring alarms.
“Still do.” He motions to the table littered with cookies and trays and mixing bowls. “You could use a break. You work too hard.”
I snort. “Pot meet kettle.”
“I’m admitting I could use a break. What about you?”
Those light brown eyes focus on me and I can’t say no. Let’s face it. I’d have an easier time evading a Kraken than saying no to Jeremy Holland.
“Fine.” He chuckles. “What?”
“I’m not used to women reluctantly saying yes to a dinner invitation with me.”
I scowl. “I’m not most women.”
I have no interest in chasing Jeremy for his money. He can keep it. Money only causes problems. Witness what assholes my parents have grown into since their little girl didn’t become the famous pastry chef they expected her to after spending a ‘fortune’ on culinary school.
“I’ll pick you up at six at your place.”
Panic grips me. No way, no how is Jeremy the billionaire picking me up at my place, where he will discover how dreary and depressing my living accommodations are.
“I’ll meet you here at six.”
He contemplates me for a long moment before agreeing. “Okay. But I’m driving.”
Joke’s on him. There’s no need to drive. All the restaurants in Smuggler’s Rest are within walking distance of my bakery.
The rest of the day flies by. Before I know it, it’s five minutes to six and I’m standing in the kitchen fiddling with my sleeves.
I shouldn’t have worn this sweater dress. I was wearing it the other day when I went caroling. And Jeremy saw me in it.
But I didn’t have any other outfit that wasn’t stained or meant for the summer. It’s not as if I’m used to having dinner with a handsome billionaire in the winter. Or any other time of the year, for that matter.
The door opens and Jeremy strides in wearing one of those fancy suits I saw hanging in his apartment. Crap on a pirate’s moonshine. I am seriously underdressed. Maybe we should call this whole thing off.
“Is this a date?” I blurt out instead. Way to go, Parker. Super smooth operator.
He grins as he leans over to kiss my cheek. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
“Whatever I want it to be?” I tap my chin. “The possibilities are endless.”
“But you should know I don’t do long-term relationships.”
I study his face. His brown eyes are cold, and his jaw is set. There’s a story there but I don’t think I’ll be hearing it.
“Gotcha. Scrooge doesn’t do relationships.”
It’s not as if Mr. Billionaire Tech Developer is going to fall in love with little old me and give up his glamorous life in California for Smuggler’s Hideaway anyway.
“I will get you to stop calling me Scrooge,” he grumbles.
“You can try,” I sing as I make my way out of the kitchen to the street. My brow wrinkles when I notice the fancy car waiting at the curb. “We don’t need to drive. Everything in Smuggler’s Rest is within walking distance.”
He opens the car door and ushers me inside. “We’re not staying in Smuggler’s Rest.”
“Where are we going?” I ask once he’s situated behind the driver’s seat.
“Hideaway Haven Resort.”
“Hudson’s resort?”
“You know Hudson Clark?”
“Don’t get excited, Scrooge. Hudson and I grew up on the island together. All islanders know each other.”
He growls. “You didn’t date, did you?”
“Ha! Me date Hudson, the high school quarterback? Not in a million years. Besides, he’s been in love with Nova forever.”
“They just had a baby, right?”
“Yep. Iliana. Do you know Hudson?”
I’m convinced there’s a secret club that all billionaires and famous sportspeople and movie stars and pop idols belong to. I bet all of them were the cool kids in high school, too. Not me.
I was usually sneaking into the school kitchens to study how they cooked. The principal was not amused when I missed my AP English exam because I was in the middle of stuffing a turkey and couldn’t stop without ruining the meal.
“I met him at Thanksgiving at Eli’s house.”
“I should have known. Paisley and Nova are two of the terrible five.”
“The terrible five?”
“Sophia, Chloe, Maya, Nova, and Paisley. The five women own Five Fathoms Brewing now. But I remember when they were running around the island causing havoc and mayhem.”
“They’re still causing havoc and mayhem. They made us play musical chairs during dinner. Whoever lost had to wear a turkey hat and tell an amusing family secret. If no one laughed, they lost the next round as well.”
“Sounds better than my Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What did you do for the holiday?”
I had to open my big fat mouth? Too bad I don’t have a cookie to stuff in it.
“Nothing much.”
“Nothing much?” Unfortunately, we’ve arrived at the resort and he parks before switching his full attention to me. “What is nothing much?”
Color me shipwrecked. Me and my big mouth will now be retiring for the evening. No more speaking whatsoever.
Jeremy reaches across the console to pinch my chin. “Parker,” he grumbles. “Answer my question.”
“Fine. I worked all morning and then went home and slept all afternoon. Happy now?”
He scowls. “No, I’m not happy. I should have invited you to spend Thanksgiving with me and Eli’s family.”
I roll my eyes. “We barely knew each other then.”
“And you hated me.”
I sigh. “I don’t hate you.”
Hate what his money stands for? Maybe. But Jeremy the person? I could never hate him. No matter how much money he has. And no matter how I’ve tried. And, boy, have I tried.
“Good because I don’t enjoy kissing women who hate me.”
His gaze drops to my lips and my breath catches. Do I want him to kiss me? He made it perfectly clear this relationship can’t be anything but temporary.
I don’t usually indulge in one-night stands. But what can it hurt? It’s not as if I’m going to fall in love with a billionaire. I’m not an idiot.
I palm his neck and draw him near until our lips meet. He growls and takes over. My entire body tingles as his tongue slips into my mouth.
It’s official. I’m trying this one-night stand thing.