Chapter 5 #2
His grin spread slow and easy across his face as he studied me. “Where do you want me?” He tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. “I could help with the icing or I could tackle those dishes.” His eyes drifted toward the mess in the sink, lingering there a moment before finding mine again.
“You really don’t have to help me, Hunter. Mrs. Alden is going to hate this cake no matter what I do.”
“Do you want me to handle her?” he said as he leaned forward, his voice dropping lower as if we were conspiring. “Mrs. Alden has a thing for me.”
“Mrs. Alden has a thing for your ass in those jeans.” My eyes flicked down before I could stop myself. “Trust me. The whole town knows it.”
“Well,” he said, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, “I can’t blame a woman for recognizing quality when she sees it.” He smirked, and heat rushed through me like wildfire.
I leaned forward and met his gaze. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really big—”
“Yes, they have,” he said, not letting me finish, and a slow grin spread across his face.
“You didn’t even let me finish.” I laughed, but I didn’t pull back.
“I mean, either way the answer is yes.” He mirrored my position, closing the distance between us until I could feel his breath on my lips. “Really big, really incredible, the best they’ve ever had. I’ve got testimonials if you need them.”
“Ego.” I enunciated the word and jabbed my finger into his chest. “Has anyone ever told you that you had a really big ego?”
“Oh yeah, that too.” His dimples appeared in his cheeks as he caught my finger in his hand and held it against him.
I shook my head. “I don’t know how your mama deals with you.”
“Speaking of my mama.” He lifted my hand in his, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that made my skin tingle. “Everybody’s coming over tomorrow. Lake day at mine and McCoy’s, then Sunday dinner at my parents’.”
Sunday dinner was sacred to the Calloways. I’d been invited before, but always felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t meant to be part of.
“Okay?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore how his fingers were still touching mine.
His eyes locked with mine. “You’re expected to be there.”
“Expected by who?” I laughed.
“Well, me for one.” He tugged me slightly closer. “But my mom specifically told me to drag you to Sunday dinner. And we both know nobody says no to my mama.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I gently pulled my hand from his, immediately missing his warmth. “I’ve got so much work to do around here.”
He shifted and his knee brushed against mine. “You’re really gonna deny Louise Calloway?”
“Well…” I stared up at him, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. “Louise Calloway technically didn’t ask me. So I’m denying you, not her.”
He huffed before leaning back and fishing his phone from his jeans pocket with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“What are you doing?” I asked, immediately suspicious.
“Just solving our little problem.” He winked before his fingers moved over the screen and he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mama.”
“Hunter, don’t you dare!” I lunged for the phone, nearly toppling off my stool. He swiveled away, one arm extended to keep me at bay, his grin widening.
“Yeah. I’m actually with Maggie right now. I tried to invite her to Sunday dinner, but apparently your cooking isn’t worth her precious time.” He winked at me as I gasped in outrage.
“That is not what I said!” I whisper-hissed, climbing halfway onto his lap in my desperation to grab the phone.
His free hand pressed against my sternum, the heat of his palm burning through my shirt.
“I know.” His eyes locked with mine as I squirmed against him. “The girl never stops working.”
My fingers grazed his wrist, but he shifted his weight, somehow pulling me closer while keeping the phone just out of reach.
“Mmhmm. One second.” He finally extended the phone toward me, his dimples deepening with his victorious smile. “She wants to talk to you.”
I snatched the phone from his hand, clamping my palm over the speaker. “You’re an insufferable ass. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“All the time.” He grinned and steadied a hand on my hip. “But something tells me you don’t find me all that insufferable.”
I was standing between his thighs now. He watched me as I brought the phone to my ear, and I tried to ignore how his fingers flexed against my skin.
“Hello?”
“Maggie, my dear.” Her voice was warm as always, instantly making me feel guilty.
“Hi, Mrs. Calloway. How are you?” I swatted at Hunter’s other hand as it moved to toy with the hem of my apron.
“I’ve been better.” She let out a huff that reminded me so much of Hunter that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “My boy just told me that you can’t make it tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry, Lou,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Hunter as he mouthed, “Liar,” at me. “I just have so much going on at the bakery, and I should probably work.”
“Sugar, a life of all flour and no flavor ain’t no life at all.” She said it so simply, but it hit me in my gut.
Hunter’s eyes never left mine, and I swallowed hard. “You’re right.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow? Owen sure would love it if you bring one of your famous strawberry shortcakes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I surrendered, and Hunter’s fingers tightened possessively on my hip, drawing me closer until our bodies nearly touched.
His triumphant smile should have annoyed me, but it sent heat spiraling through my core instead.
“That’s my girl,” Lou said, and I could practically hear her smile in her voice. “Oh, and Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let that son of mine push you around. These Calloway men have that way about them.”
“That they do.” I chuckled and looked at her son.
He grinned at me, his palm still firm on my hip, and if I’d had any sense left, I’d have stepped away. But good sense and I had parted ways a long time ago when it came to him, and all that was left now was heat and the dangerous way his body lined up so perfectly with mine.
“Thanks for talking some sense into her, Mama!” he said loud enough for her to hear, but his eyes skimmed over my face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She laughed softly. “Have a good day, Maggie.”
“You too.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt as Hunter watched me end the call and hand him his phone back.
I stepped back an inch, just enough to put some space between us, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. I needed to breathe air that didn’t taste like him.
I didn’t know what he was doing, but I wouldn’t allow myself to get used to it. When I was with him, I felt more like me, the most me I’d ever been, a me I’d thought I’d lost a long time ago, but that feeling wasn’t mine to keep.
Because he wasn’t mine to keep.
But that didn’t stop me from wanting him.
I stared down at him and waited for the ache in my stomach to ebb, but it just kept getting worse the longer I was near him. He was so close I could see the almost unnoticeable freckles on his cheeks and could track the slow press of his thumb into my hip as if he could brand me that way.
“I need to get to work.” I cleared my throat and tried to sound normal, but he made me feel so damn confused. “And I’m not getting any work done with you here.”
“Are you kicking me out?” He caught my gaze, but his hand was still on my hip and that insistent pressure made it hard to think.
I tried to sidestep, but his legs tightened around mine, holding me in place. “You’re really giving me the boot?”
“I’m not giving you the boot.” I took another step back, and his hand finally fell away from my hip. “I just need to get this cake done. If Mrs. Alden gets here and it’s not finished, she’s going to lose her mind.”
“Okay.” He nodded, sliding off the stool.
I fixed my gaze on a spot just past his shoulder, afraid of what I might do if I met his eyes.
“You sure you don’t want me to at least do the dishes before I go?”
“I’m sure.” I nodded. “I need you to go. You’re distracting.”
His eyes lit up. “Distracting, huh?” he asked with such smug satisfaction that it made me regret ever saying it out loud.
“Get out, Calloway.” I pointed toward the door, and he held up his hands in an exaggerated surrender.
“Yes, ma’am.” He started walking backward toward the door. “But for the record, you’re making me leave and you owe me.”
He stopped at one of the cooling racks and grabbed a cinnamon roll, holding my gaze as he took an enormous bite. Icing clung to his bottom lip, and when his tongue darted out to catch it, I couldn’t look away.
“All right. We’re even now,” I said, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
“Not even close,” he murmured, backing toward the door until his shoulders pressed against it. “But you can make it up to me tomorrow. Wear that pink bikini.”
He winked at me, and my cheeks burned.
“Hunter,” I sighed, but he was already pushing the door open with his back.
As he slipped outside, he called over his shoulder, “I had fun, Mags.”
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my cake, the lingering scent of him, and absolutely no idea what the hell just happened.