Chapter 24
24
DULCE
T he courier hands me a clipboard. “Sign here?”
As the other two men take the table through the back door toward the kitchen, I accept it and sign my name, struggling to comprehend that I have a new prep table I didn't purchase. I scan the packing slip, but it doesn't say who it’s from.
“Who ordered this?” I ask.
The man takes the clipboard, tears the top copy of the invoice, and hands it to me. “I don’t know. Some company.” He strolls to the kitchen to watch the other guys set up.
Katie walks over and smiles. “Why do you bother asking?” She rubs her lips together, trying not to laugh. “You know who bought it.”
I do. Only one man in my life right now has money to throw around. I’m sure he owns a pair of sunglasses that cost just as much.
“You’re right. I was hoping it wasn’t so I wouldn’t feel like I owed him.”
“He did it because he likes you and?—”
“Feels sorry for me?”
“No,” she says with a determined look. “No,” she repeats. “I think he always had a thing for you but was too chickenshit to do anything about it. Scared or immature. But right now, he is all man, and he has his sights set on you. What he did to Trent is borderline crazy, but I would have done the same if I felt the way he did.”
“Like what?” I ask, confused.
I don’t know what to feel except that I’m afraid to feel the same way I used to about Ford because look how I ended up. Fucked up and miserable.
“Crazy.”
“Crazy?”
She gives me a half shrug and straightens the chair, placing it under the table. “All I can think of is the way he looks at you. He’s crazy about you. I know you can’t see it, but anyone in the same room with you two can see it.” The man is batshit crazy about you.”
“I’m not used to it. Besides, a man like Ford doesn’t stick around one woman,” I admit more to myself than to her. But his smile and good looks were already implanted. The feel of his lips and fingers between my thighs destroyed me for anyone else.
“Crazier things have happened.”
Shit isn’t wrong, but I don’t plan on sticking around, and wherever I go, there is no reason he would follow.
“They have,” I say, going along with her way of thinking.
There was no point in telling her differently. There was no point in thinking there would be more between Ford and me. Instead of going against his flirtation or his offer to help me, I was going to enjoy his company.
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine here all by yourself?” she asks, snapping me back from my thoughts.
“It’s just a couple of hours. I let Mary leave early yesterday, and she told me she would stay so I could catch up.”
I hadn’t had the time to bake, and since the prep space was limited, I only made the usual items I sell daily. It’s like I’m opening the bakery for the first time. Fortunately, I bake all the items fresh daily, but I have orders to fulfill. Like Ford’s cookies.
“Alright.” She grabs her bag and car keys and clocks out on the register. “Promise me you’ll call.”
“Promise,” I assure her.
“Danny knows?”
I nod, not wanting to tell her that he doesn’t. He’s the last person I want to call, and I haven’t told her I don’t trust him anymore.
I set my phone on the back table, hit play on the music app, and smile at the new prep and ingredient combo table, positioned in the center of the kitchen like a shiny new toy, while Lana Del Ray's voice fills the room. It is made of stainless steel with multiple drawers.
I slide each one out and smile at the smooth, seamless way each ingredient drawer slides out.
I start gathering the ingredients to bake Ford's cookies. A tribute to the man who made it possible to put a smile on my face. I owe him that much and the best orgasm the other night in my bedroom.
I’m mixing the cookie batter when I hear a loud knock on the front door and pause the mixing machine. I wipe my hands on a towel.
My stomach does a little flip-flop when I see Ford, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, peering in the window. I unlock and open the door.
When I meet his gorgeous blue eyes, awareness clings to my skin the way it always did.
“Hi.” His smile would make any woman swoon.
His citrus scent envelops my nose, making me weak when I kiss his cheek and say softly, “Hi.”
He raises a brow after a few seconds when I step back. “Are you going to let me in so I can kiss you properly?”
I flush, embarrassed that I was staring at him like an idiot, and step back. “Oh…Um…come in.”
He walks in, then turns to close and lock the door. We stare at each other for a beat. His eyes are on my lips. Mine are locked on his handsome face. The air between us grows thick. My pulse picks up. I’m expecting him to kiss me… or should I be the one to kiss him?
Instead, he asks, breaking the tension. “Busy?”
“How did you know I was here?” I ask instead, trying to remove the sting from him not making the first move.
“Your van is parked out front.”
Duh, Dulce. He was driving by, saw your van, and figured you hadn’t left.
“Right,” I reply awkwardly.
“It smells good.”
My nipples harden, and my pulse drops between my legs, reminding me of his words last night. How I smelled. Tasted.
“I was making cookies,” I tell him, walking back to the kitchen.
He follows me inside, and I walk around the table, hitting pause on the music.
“How’s the table?” he asks.
I’m such an idiot. I didn’t thank him for the table. He makes me forget my name when he’s around.
I finish mixing the batter. “It’s going great,” I tell him honestly. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I asked my manager which table would be the best for a bakery. I hope he didn’t disappoint.”
I place each cookie on the baking sheet. “Not at all. I’m not sure if he has any experience with bakery equipment, but he did well.”
“Are those for me?” he asks, pointing at the cookies. I’m sure he could smell the oatmeal and put two and two together. There was something the way he said it though, an intimacy we shared the day he took me home for the first time. Something we shared between us and not the rest of the world.
I look up. “Huh?”
“The cookies, are those for me?”
I bite my bottom lip. Placing both trays of cookies in the preheated oven. “Yes. Umm…”
I turn around, and he closes the distance between us, causing my words to die in my throat. I can’t think when he’s this close. My brain ceases to function.
“I asked my manager to do whatever it took and find you the best table, and I’m honored that you’re making my favorite the first night since it was delivered.”
“It is the best,” I breathe.
I’m telling the truth. It’s a top-of-the-line prep table, and it must’ve cost him at least six thousand dollars, maybe more.
“You didn’t have to, Ford.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
He smiles, wiping away the grain of sugar that must have landed on my nose. “Without a prep table, you can’t make my cookies.” He says this, licks the pad of his thumb, and closes his eyes briefly. Shit. “Dulce?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
He looks first at the table, then at me. “Can I kiss you now?”
I draw in a breath. “Yes.”
He tilts his head slowly, and his lips fuse with mine. I moan. He groans, deepening the kiss. The smell of sugar and citrus wraps around us like a blanket. He turns me so that my back hits the edge of the table and pulls me against him. A moan escapes my throat, drowning in our kiss. I can feel his hard-on pushing against my belly through his jeans. His hands grip my thighs, lifting me onto the table. He pulls back, and our lips make a sucking sound when they break apart.
I want to tell him we can’t on the prep table, but as soon as he looks at the two buttons between my breasts on my pink uniform, his gaze slowly shifts between my legs, which are now spread wide. My dress's skirt is bunched up around my upper thighs. Just one movement. A centimeter, and he can see the triangle of my pink panties. I don’t want it to end. Whatever is going on between us.
“Are you sweet down there too, Dulce?”
“I don’t know,” I reply nervously. “Last night, you didn’t let me taste myself on your fingers.”
I can’t believe I said that. The words sound foreign on my tongue.
“You’ve never tasted yourself?”
I shake my head. I haven’t. I've played with myself at the thought of him.
The palms of his hands are hot on my thighs, sliding higher. His thumb presses against my clit. My legs open wider.
His eyes lift. “Let’s see… how you taste.” He pushes me back. My ass slides across the table as he dips his head. My hands are flat on the metal surface, holding myself up. His lips are between my legs. His eyes fixed on me.
His thumb pushes my wet panties to the side. His tongue swipes my slit. “Ford,” I gasp.
He’s pressed his face between my thighs, fucking me with his tongue. Goose bumps snake over my skin. My nerves tighten. Sweat drips between my breasts. I grind shamelessly on his face, wanting more. I grip the top of his short hair, pushing my pussy deeper into his face. I need to come.
I moan.
He groans.
“Oh…God. More,” I beg him.
His tongue dips and turns. His hands hold me steady on my hips. I ride his face hard, screaming when I come.
The timer on the oven dings. My heart jackhammers in my chest. He pulls out, licking my cum off his mouth.
“The cookies are done,” I say, catching my breath.
He smiles and takes my lips, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “I like the way you taste much better,” he says between kisses.
“Is that so?” I smile.
“Yes, I believe you think so too, with the way you returned my kiss.”
I avert my gaze, feeling the heat rise on my cheeks. Ford has a way of getting what he wants, and I will no longer deny it. He has me. He always did, and I think he always will.