5. Maribel
Maribel
I may have gone a little overboard with the number of ingredients I’ve stuffed inside my car. There’s no way I’d dare ask Sasha to let me borrow anything from the shop. Instead, I’ve plundered my kitchen and brought everything I thought I could possibly need.
Something like this feels like I’ve got one shot. It’s not something I want to mess up.
With the address given to me, I make my way up the mountain. Thankfully, having explored these trails and paths a thousand times over from growing up in this small town, finding his home isn’t hard. However, I’m still more than shocked when my car comes to a slow stop in front of his home.
Having passed more than a handful of cabins coming up here, none are as big as this one. This doesn’t feel right.
My idea of a cabin involves weathered logs, a sagging porch, and the faint, earthy smell of decay.
This… this is a fortress of wood and glass built into the shoulder of the mountain.
It’s massive, sprawling out with multiple rooflines and angles that look like they were designed by an architect who loved the wilderness but refused to sacrifice a single modern comfort.
The wood—some rich, reddish cedar—is pristine, not a single gray streak of weather on it. It smells like sawdust and varnish, the scent so new it still feels temporary. This place can’t be more than a year or two old.
My gaze travels up, and up, to walls that are more window than timber. The glass is a dark, smoky obsidian, reflecting the towering pines and the cloudy skies above.
Wesley appears to be a man who values his privacy from the looks of it, and he must have a wallet large enough to afford a place like this.
The more I find out about Wesley on my end, the more curious I grow about him.
All of this space for one guy doesn’t seem right. The sheer excess of it feels less like an escape and more like a statement.
Is he lonely? Would he be willing to change his ways and accept someone like me into his life?
Unclasping my seatbelt, I shake away my awestruck stare and abandon my car. I don’t want to leave him waiting for too long.
I’m barely grasping two plastic bags of ingredients before I hear the sound of a door opening. Leaning back, I look toward the deck wrapping the cabin to see Wesley alive in the flesh.
Instantly, my lips tingle as I remember how it felt to have his mouth on mine. My poor stomach does somersaults, and I struggle to get out my greeting.
He’s back to wearing his usual button-up shirt, this one with the first few buttons already unbuttoned, revealing inches of his tanned skin beneath. If he were much closer, I might be able to see a hint of what kind of impressive body he’s hiding.
What he’s wearing isn’t the only thing that has my attention. It’s the expression on his face. For what feels like the first time, he’s not frowning. Rather, he looks relieved to see me.
Is he as twisted up about seeing me as I have been about him?
Nerves have made my fingers tremble, and not even my coworkers’ throwing words of encouragement toward me has been enough to make me feel any more confident.
I mean, while I’ve had my own couple of lackluster relationships in the past, none have ever made me feel this much on edge.
Wesley eases his way down the wooden steps before he swoops in smelling freshly of a mix of leather and lemon. Instead of asking me if I need help, he’s brushing his fingers against mine to steal the bags straight from my hands. His brows immediately lift at the weight behind them.
“I brought more than I needed, don’t worry. I’ll take home whatever is left over,” I explain in a rush before he thinks to tell me that I don’t need to worry about impressing him. I can already hear the words in his voice.
The truth is, I do need to impress him. Having made something he didn’t hate, I got a kiss out of it. What will I get if I create something he loves?
I shiver just thinking about it.
He takes it wrong, ushering me toward his home where it’s warmer. Just clinging near him is enough to make my skin warm.
Hardly giving me any time to dissect the inside of his home, I don’t have to look too far to see how vast it is. Furnished well enough, there’s still too much space.
Speaking of space, I fall in love with his kitchen the moment I step inside. Sure, he doesn’t have a setup like Bake Me Happy, but he’s got a conventional oven that is far nicer than mine. The island planted in the middle is perfect for preparation. The rest of the marble counter space?
“You’re going to make it hard to leave,” I groan under my breath as I drink in a baker’s paradise. Do I want to look in his fridge and see how much space he has in there, too? No, that might be pushing my luck a little too far.
My ears might be playing tricks on me, but I swear I hear the sound of a chuckle leave his lips. He doesn’t tell me I can’t stay, but he doesn’t feed into the joke by offering me his home.
If he did, I really would never leave. Seriously.
Once he’s setting down my ingredients, I don’t waste any time spreading each one out while keeping them grouped together. While I’m working, Wesley grabs a container of fresh mushrooms. They still need rinsing, but I doubt he’s offering to do so.
Instead, he’s staring at them with a pinched expression like he’s trying to figure out if I brought them on accident or not.
“Pastries don’t have to always be sweet,” I explain as I dig through his pots and pans next.
The more I pull out, the more I realize how much of a mess we’re going to make by the end of this.
It doesn’t take long to familiarize myself, and I kind of make this room my own by the time I’m ready to start cooking.
He should’ve just let me bring him the final product. That’s the amazing part of this. Instead, he wants to see the boring parts, too.
Well, I think he does. For the most part, I feel his eyes stuck to the back of my neck. He’s trailing my movement, all while keeping his distance. Between making me feel like he wants to ask for help, and trying to stay out of my way, I try not to overthink it.
It’s strange having an audience. Thankfully, what I’m doing doesn’t seem to have his attention.
His fingers drum against the marble countertop. He seems rather nervous. Every time I’m near him, he always seems like he’s sitting on edge.
“You look like you’re about to blow up.” While I prepare the ingredients for the first pastry, a half dozen mini quiches.
After refreshing my knowledge, I picked some pretty good choices this time around.
If I’m right about him not liking sweet things, then these choices are going to hit the spot.
“You’re not trying to admit that you’re not a fan of vegetables. ”
Wesley sighs at how easily I can read him. “Nothing like that.”
More silence trickles between us, but I don’t push the words out of him. From the pinch in his brow and the curl of his lips, I know whatever he wants to tell me is too serious to start cracking jokes.
“Wesley.” Dragging his name out, I hope to reassure him with a smile. From the sagging of his shoulders, I think it works. “What is it?”
“I need to tell you who I am.” The words leave him like each one weighs more than the last. “I’d hoped coming here, you can see that I’m not just a normal guy.”
Ah. I knew we were going to have to have that conversation eventually. I kind of hoped it would happen after I made him fall madly in love with me.
“You’re Wesley Haverford,” I tell him as I push around chunks of mushroom. “I know who you are.”
He does a small double-take before his brows come together as he tries to put together how I know his name. I guess I can see why he wouldn’t go telling people it, but I can’t seriously be the only one who knows who he is. I mean, I only found out because I stared at his card.
“I, uh, wanted to see if you were on social media so I could do a little extensive research.” Pursing my lips, I take in his panicked expression.
“Yeah, your controversies led me down a pretty deep rabbit hole. It’s almost creepy to admit how much I know about you.
Especially since you don’t really know anything about me. ”
I’m not nearly as impressive as this guy.
Going to college for a couple of years to get a degree in baking management isn’t very exciting.
Especially when I realized that I actually didn’t want to run a bakery.
Making food that’s enjoyed has always been my passion.
My identity is actually quite boring, in comparison to his.
“Then you know about Michelle.” He leans back like he’s been pushed. “You know about her videos.”
“Sure, I’ve watched them through a few times.” Continuing to cook, I pretend he isn’t staring me down like the weight of the world could crush us both. “Had to scroll past all over her lavish lifestyle vlogs first since, you know, she went viral.”
I don’t tell him the truth. “A couple of times” is a lie. Each time I watched a new part of her story, the more curious I grew.
How can a man she swears is foul enough to sexually harass his personal assistant be the same man who acted afraid to touch me? Last I checked, I had to kiss him.
“You don’t believe the videos?” Disbelief fills his voice, but that’s not all. There’s something else choking him.
“If I thought you could be a bad guy, do you think I’d invite you to the bakery late at night?
” Scoffing at the very thought, I shake my head.
“Sure, it would be nice to hear the truth from your lips, but if I thought you were some evil guy, do you really think I would’ve come all the way up here to knock your socks off with some pastries I’m not even sure you’re going to like? ”
He doesn’t laugh with me, not even at how ridiculous it sounds. Instead, he finally chips away at some of the space he’s planted between us.
“You believe I’m innocent.” Like he’s struggling to understand the concept, he asks again.
My next smile comes easier. “I do. Is that really so weird?”
It could be, but it fuels the relief that fills him. What was once a few feet of space now becomes nothing as he finally stands close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him.
“Why do you think she did it?” Figuring it can’t hurt to ask, I glance toward him and pretend he isn’t acting like the weird one here.
Can a person look happy without smiling? If it’s a possibility, then I’m sure Wesley can do it.
“She was paid off, I know it. Despite getting the board on my side, the damage was done.” He scowls at the past and shakes his head. “The stockholders gave them one option. I needed to go. Now look at me. Hiding away from the world while they think I’m worse than scum.”
Pursing my lips together, I’m the one to frown this time.
Taking my attention off of the pan, I narrow my eyes.
“I don’t think that way about you one bit.
Rather, I like you, Wesley Haverford. While I might not have known who you were, the man you are now is the one I want to impress.
Now, are you going to let me knock your socks off, or are you going to make me listen to you insult yourself until I grow mad? ”
Brows lifting at my suddenness, I’m rewarded with a low laugh. With that, a small curve. Not a frown, but a smile.
I’m sure this man could once get whatever woman he wanted. Right now, he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman to exist. It’s going to take serious effort not to let that go to my head.
Waving my spatula at him before he can dare take another step forward to do something that would risk burning my perfect recipe, I motion for him to take a seat.
I’m going to achieve my goal. Once I do what I came here to do, and I win over his heart, then I’ll feed into this energy sparking between us.