Chapter 5
MAGGIE
Cinching my apron strings, I caught Sutton’s gaze from where she propped herself against the doorframe leading to the storefront. “I can help with the morning rush.”
“Absolutely not. I’ll handle this, and you handle Mrs. Alden’s cake. Besides—” She looked me over from my head to my toes. “You look hungover as hell.”
“I am. Thank you for noticing,” I muttered, twisting my hair into a messy knot. “How is it that you aren’t hungover?”
“I know my limits.” Sutton smirked. “Plus, I was having too much fun watching all those men fight over you.”
I scoffed, but last night’s images tumbled through my head anyway. Hunter’s calloused fingers steadying my elbow in the parking lot, the things he’d said, the way his jaw tightened when we’d lingered at my door.
Then there was Sutton’s brother, Brody, with his deep laugh and the text I woke up to this morning.
“Trust me. There were no men fighting over me.” I went over to the cooler and pulled out the cakes I baked yesterday.
I stacked the cakes on a battered sheet tray and nudged the walk-in door closed with my hip.
“With all due respect, Maggie. You are my boss, but you’re also an idiot if you didn’t see Hunter salivating over you. And Brody seemed to have a good time. He even told me so.” She arched one eyebrow.
I shifted the tray onto the prep counter and avoided meeting her eyes. “I had a good time too, but it’s not like that with me and Hunter.”
I reached for the offset spatula and tub of buttercream, but Sutton didn’t buy a thing I was saying.
“Sure,” she said, the syllable long and drawn out.
The bells over the bakery door chimed, and she turned. “All right. Duty calls. I’ll leave you back here to your delusions,” she shot over her shoulder.
The door swung behind her, and I dropped the first tier onto the cardboard round and started the crumb coat. My headache had settled into a dull, persistent drum that made me want to crawl back into bed, but my hands knew what to do.
I could hear Sutton’s voice from the front as she spoke to customers, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the memories from last night.
Every time I’d closed my eyes, I saw Hunter’s face across the bar while I danced with Brody.
His jaw had been tight, his eyes never left mine, and when sleep finally found me, my dreams had me waking up restless with those same eyes haunting me and my skin flushed with a want I couldn’t shake.
I had no idea what time it was when I’d finally given up fighting those thoughts and my fingers found their way beneath my sheets in the darkness. Every time I shuddered against my own fingers, it was with his name on my lips and shame coating my skin.
I added another tier to the cake, taking extra care to make sure it was perfectly aligned, but then there was a knock at the back door.
I muttered a curse under my breath and wiped my hands on my apron, leaving streaks of buttercream behind. No one ever used that entrance except Blaire, and she never bothered knocking. If Mrs. Alden had circled around to criticize my work in progress, I might actually throw the cake at her.
I yanked the door open, shoulders tensed, only to find myself staring at the absolute last face I was prepared to see.
Hunter blocked out the morning sun, his frame filling the entire doorway like he belonged there, which pissed me off more than anything. He grinned at me, and his warm brown eyes crinkled at the sides in a way that made my stomach flip despite my hangover.
“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than I intended, but it only made his smile widen.
He held up a brown paper bag in one hand and a Alani Nu Pink Slush in the other. My favorite. His T-shirt stretched across his chest as he raised his arms, revealing a sliver of skin above his jeans.
“Good morning to you too.” He stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation, and his chest brushed against mine where I still blocked the doorway. The scent of his cologne hit me, and I stepped back too quickly, nearly stumbling.
“Good morning, Hunter.” I ran a hand over my hair, suddenly aware of how disheveled I must look. “What are you doing here?”
He moved to the prep table where the cake sat, and put the bag down before turning to look at me.
He leaned back against the table, hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips.
“I told you I’d give this whole cake thing a shot, didn’t I?
” His eyes dropped to my lips before meeting mine again. “So here I am.”
“What?” Heat crawled up my neck as memories of last night flooded back.
“I’m here to help you with the cake,” he said, pushing off the table and stepping closer, “and after seeing how much tequila you drank last night, I figured you could use some breakfast and a little pick-me-up.”
He popped the tab on the energy drink before he held it out to me.
“That’s…annoyingly thoughtful of you.” I looked at the drink then back to him. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I’m well aware of that, Mags.” He cocked his head slightly, studying me. “But we’re friends, aren’t we? Isn’t this the kind of thing friends do?”
His words scraped over every raw edge I had left. Friends. The word felt like poison.
“Of course we are.” My hands trembled at my sides, probably from the hangover, but definitely from him. “What else would we be?”
His jaw tightened before he closed the distance between us.
He reached out, his hand cupping my elbow, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin there.
The heat of his touch radiated up my arm as he lifted my hand in front of me, his fingers lingering longer than necessary when he placed the drink in my palm.
“Drink this, friend.” His gaze flicked over my face. “While I get our breakfast out.”
“I don’t have time for breakfast, Hunter.” I shook my head. “I need to finish the cake.”
“The cake can wait.” He was standing close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough that I’d only need to sway forward a few inches to press against him.
“Don’t you have a ranch to run?” I tried to sound irritated, but it came out too soft.
“The ranch will survive without me for a day.” His thumb swept across my cheek before he pulled away and showed me the buttercream now smudged on his finger. “Besides, I’ve been up since dawn moving cattle. I’ve earned a break.”
He brought his finger to his mouth, his tongue licking the buttercream off the pad of his thumb. Heat rushed through me, pooling low in my belly as I watched.
“You gonna let me feed you, Mags?” His voice dropped to a rough whisper.
When I did nothing but stare at his mouth, his lips twitched, satisfaction darkening his eyes. The air between us seemed to crackle as he turned, his arm brushing mine, and started pulling biscuits out of the bag with hands I suddenly couldn’t stop imagining on my skin.
Far too many biscuits for just the two of us.
“Let’s see,” Hunter said as he laid everything out. “I’ve got bacon biscuit, bacon and egg, sausage, sausage and egg, some plain biscuits, some jelly.”
“Are you feeding an army?” I moved to his side where my cake waited, careful to leave space between us.
He made a show of surveying the spread then shrugged. “Didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for after last night.”
“Bacon and egg,” I said, grabbing the one closest to me and peeling back the wrapper. “Thank you.”
Hunter looked so pleased with himself as he grabbed a biscuit. He pulled out one of the stools for me, and I took a seat as he pulled out one for himself.
“So…” he said after taking a bite of his biscuit. “How’s the cake coming along?” His tone was light, but there was a current of something else underneath, a nervous energy that made his shoulders tight.
Hunter and I were used to circling each other in a constant spiral, but this felt different. His eyes kept dropping to my mouth, and I couldn’t stop noticing the way his fingers tapped against his thigh.
“It’s not looking good.” I waved my hand toward the cake that was clearly not done.
He let out a chuckle. “Yeah, but it will be stunning by the time you’re done with it.”
I tried not to let his words have any effect on me, but it was useless.
“And I don’t know what it is, but you make everything taste like magic.” The way he looked at me then sent a jolt down the length of my spine.
“What do you want?” I narrowed my eyes. “That’s a whole lot of flattery.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” He leaned in closer, elbows on the counter, and a devilish glint in his eyes.
“All right. I have to get back to work.” I took a long drink of the energy drink he’d brought me and turned on the stool. “This cake isn’t going to bake itself.”
He lifted his leg, pressing his boot onto the rung of my stool right between my legs, and stopped me from standing. “I could help, you know.”
The mental images that suggestion conjured were instantly and wildly inappropriate. My stomach clenched as I looked down at his calloused hands and remembered exactly how I’d been imagining his “help” last night.
I could feel my whole face flushing, heat rippling through my chest as every filthy little fantasy I’d ever buried came roaring to the surface. Hunter leaned in, practically caging me in, and I knew with certainty that it would be light work for this man to make me come undone for him.
“You say the word, and I’ll get my hands on whatever you need.”
My breath stuttered, catching in my chest. Every part of me was tuned to the low scrape of his voice and his knee that was still braced between mine.
I tried not to look at it, I really did, but my eyes caught on the flex of denim and the sure, easy way he took up space. My entire body was hyperaware of the heat between us, and I sat there like a deer in headlights, too stubborn to look away and too weak to do a damn thing about it.