Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
I n the days since she’d seen Oakley, her confidence levels had plummeted. She’d been so charged up after making those vagina cupcakes, that walking into the tattoo shop and kissing him had been easy. Now, four days later, she was wondering if it had been the right decision. They were still new friends and maybe sex could upset that balance. There was also the whole thing where she knew he liked her and still decided to follow through with this friends with benefits thing.
It would be so easy to say that she didn’t feel the same way about him, but that would make Clementine a liar.
He made her feel things she didn’t know how to fully wrap her head around. Goosebumps when his green eyes landed on her, the aching need to smile when she usually wouldn’t and not to forget the fact that she was horny baking.
She still believed that he was the right person to scratch her itch, because he ticked all the boxes in her mind—handsome, funny, charming, liked her the way she was and enjoyed her dessert. But what if she was so bad that he changed his mind after the first time? Moreover, what if he was so bad, she would never want sex again? Just because Oakley could kiss didn’t mean he could show her a good time too.
God, that kiss .
She’d replayed it in excruciating detail every day. The way his strong arm wrapped around her waist, the firmness of his torso against hers, the slow and steady way his mouth plundered hers. She’d been kissed before, but none of them had made her feel so thoroughly satisfied the way Oakley did. She wondered if he even knew the effect he had on her that day. She had played it cool, like she was totally in control. Truth was, she was hanging by a thread and he was holding the other end.
If you asked her, Clementine wasn’t sure if it was the sex that made her nervous or if it was getting more attached to Oakley. In her last session with her therapist, she’d made it seem like everything was okay. Everything was okay, but that was last week. When her biggest concern was fending off the crush she had on Oakley. This week, it was something more.
Outside of Mack, Rhiannon was the only one who really knew about her concerns with sex—“we don’t call them issues , because it’s not a bad thing”. Despite not being a sex therapist, Rhiannon helped her get out of her head whenever the topic was brought up. Therapy had always been important and finding Rhiannon when she moved to Wildes had been a gift. Initially, her sessions were filled with wondering if running a business in a saturated market was the right thing or not. Then it shifted to her friendship with Mack and how she struggled to meet other people. Eventually Rhiannon got the truth out of her—she didn’t respond to sex the way everyone else did.
They talked about her sexual history, lack of interest in masturbation and the fact that so few people ever really got her hot and bothered. They discussed the pressure she was putting on herself for not being interested in sex and slowly worked through those problems. She hadn’t mentioned Oakley yet, because Clementine was still trying to understand what was going on. She knew that if anyone would have advice for her, it would be Rhiannon, so she made a note to talk about it at their next session.
Until then, she would let her very conflicted and confused mind be filled with Oakley. Everything about their interaction at the tattoo shop that day was different from what it had been so far. The low way he rumbled certain words, the possessiveness in his tone and the obvious desire he had for her was more than she expected. When she mentioned the surly mountain as a possible option to scratch her itch, his response had excited her. If Oakley knew that she very honestly believed he was the only one that could satisfy her, would he be thrilled? She was tempted to tell him as much, but that required talking to him.
Every time she picked up her phone and stared at his number, her heart would start to pound. Yes, she was excited at the prospect of seeing Oakley again. However, letting him into her life that way? A little scary. Talking about her sexual experience, or lack thereof, was easy in theory. It had taken her a long time to tell Rhiannon about it, so telling the man she made a sex deal with was daunting. Building up the courage to take the step was taking longer than even she would have liked. She was ready, but also…she wasn’t.
That afternoon, she’d experimented with a new donut while working on cake tasters, and her mind was filled with images of Oakley pressed against her. It had been incredibly troubling when she caught herself puckering her lips for a kiss as she stared at a wall. Thankfully nobody else saw her doing it and she was able to stop herself from spiraling. She was even more grateful for the appointment she had to help keep her mind occupied for a few hours.
“Clem,” the soft, husky voice greeted her, “how’s it going?”
She hummed in response, not needing to look up to see who it was. Only one person sounded that sexy all the time: Ginny Thomas. Clementine finished going through her checklist and then sighed as the bell above the door rang again. Rearranging her face into a smile, it wasn’t a creepy, fake one either, she straightened herself out.
There had been a time when she had been less than nice to Ginny, and looking back now, Clementine felt bad about it. When the gorgeous brunette had come into the bakery the first time, she hadn’t been sure about her. Besides looking like Brianna, the woman that changed her sexual experience, Ginny was blunt and sometimes brash. Then again, people said that Clementine was all those things too. Maybe that’s why she’d been hesitant to befriend her. Now they got along pretty well and she was glad for it.
Ginny introduced her to the couple, Clementine did her usual spiel of taking them through the cakes and ingredients and then stepped away so they could try the samples.
“I don’t think I’ve ever made so many red and pink cakes before,” Roscoe muttered as he stood beside her, peering out of the kitchen. “We should ban it.”
She glanced at his pink splattered coat and snorted. “Maybe start wearing aprons.”
“That defeats the purpose of these awesome coats,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow. “So, what happened to the scrawny tattooed dude?”
“Scrawny, really?”
“He’s small.”
She sighed, saving her notes before giving him her full attention. Roscoe wasn’t a bad guy and he definitely was easy on the eyes, but he wasn’t her type. For one, he was big, much like the person she saw at the tattoo shop the other day. He had been one of her first few hires, along with Freya, and she’d built a solid relationship with him over the years. She had been attracted to him at the start, but mostly because it was quite something to watch someone of his size create the most dainty designs with frosting. Roscoe was so good at his job, she kept him on even though Mack liked reminding her of possible feelings.
“We’ve talked about this, Roscoe,” she said with a slight frown.
He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Still seems like a dumb rule.”
She didn’t forbid her staff from dating each other—because Clementine knew that spending that much time together could lead to feelings—but she had a rule for herself that she would never date an employee. When things ended or went bad, everything fell apart at work. She’d witnessed it at a previous job and she would never let that happen.
The sound of Ginny calling for her snapped Clementine out of her frown, but she shot Roscoe another look before walking out of the kitchen. Smile back in place, she discussed options with the couple, got the tasters packed up and watched them walk out. In all her years of doing this, she’d never once had a client who disliked what she made. But the fear was always there. However, this couple liked every flavor, which was also quite rare. So she had her work cut out for her.
As she set her things down, Clementine heard another voice and smiled to herself. Daisy Heroux, owner of Daisy’s Patch, was another one of her friends outside of the bakery. Like Ginny, Clementine had met Daisy through Frankie. They seemed to all get along really well, even when she was the quietest person in the room.
That afternoon, however, she knew that Daisy was there for leftover cake, which she always made sure to keep on hand.
“You’ve been inside her kitchen?” Ginny gasped and Daisy cackled, making Clementine roll her eyes. She didn’t let anyone into her kitchen, but given how charming and pushy Daisy was, she’d somehow seduced her way through the doors. She was certain that Roscoe was the one that let her through that first time.
“Vultures,” she mumbled and then waved them over to the table as plates of cake were set out.
“I need to know how often this happens so I can accidentally show up in the future.” Ginny shot Daisy a grin as the two of them got comfortable.
She glared at them. “You make it sound like I don’t feed you cake every time you’re here.”
Luna brought over a tray with cups and a coffee pot as well. Ginny surveyed the table and said, “This is such a treat. We should do this once a week.”
“No,” Clementine said with a heavy sigh. “I can maybe agree to once a month.”
Ginny and Daisy glanced at each other with victorious grins, then exchanged a high five. She chuckled and sat down with them, pouring out the coffee while the women split up the cake.
Once a month, in her opinion, was too much. Mack never showed up like these two did, but that was also because her best friend had other things going on and a kid to raise. Even though she was being difficult, she had to admit that having them visit every now and then was pretty special. She’d grown up in a town filled with white families and it was only when she went away to college and pastry school that Clementine met other people of color. While she was fairer than most Indians, she was very proud of her heritage.
So to connect with these two Indian women being bosses in their own careers was the best thing in the world. She hadn’t expected them, but Ginny and Daisy not only brought lightness into her day, they didn’t let her hide behind her dark clouds. For a moment, she considered confiding in them about Oakley and what she had done, but stopped herself. They’d been at the Christmas party when Oakley first appeared. Maybe they wouldn’t remember him. Or they’d encourage her to follow through. She was already so conflicted, she didn’t want to deal with more opinions. Not yet anyway.
Ginny and Daisy stayed until closing time, licking the plates clean of cake and drinking every last drop of coffee. Clementine made sure to send everyone else home, with the intention of cleaning and locking up on her own. Once she’d seen her friends out, she did exactly that. She wiped down the counters and mopped the floor, using the quiet time to plan out her week. Now that she had a taste for what a day off felt like, she agreed with herself another one wouldn’t hurt. Especially since it would allow her to unwind before diving into a week of wedding cake preparations.
Once she was done, she locked up and drove herself home. Walking into her quiet house, she let her shoulders drop. Clementine never had an issue with being alone. She liked knowing that when she finished dealing with people all day, she could hide out in her house and not see anybody for a few hours. Except, that evening, she felt the opposite.
Just fucking call him. Make it happen.
Ignoring her thoughts, even though they were right, Clementine got started on her dinner. With soft music filtering through her kitchen, she went through the familiar routine of making pizza from scratch. She left the dough to rise and went to wash off her day. When she pulled on her dress, Oakley drifted back into her mind. Sighing heavily, she gathered her hair into a damp bun on top of her head and returned to finish cooking. Clementine glanced at her phone, still pumping out music, then shook her head. Instead, she rolled out the dough and made her dinner. As the oven heated, she reached for her phone and sent three texts
Clementine
Fifteen minutes.
*sends address*
It’s the house with the bright yellow front door.
Leaving it on the counter, Clementine made a second pizza and slid them both into the oven. Those fifteen minutes would give her enough time to get the food and her kitchen ready. She even rummaged around in her fridge and found a bottle of wine and a few beers lurking on the bottom shelf.
Her oven pinged at the same time that her doorbell rang and Clementine felt her nerves return. Inhaling deeply, she flexed her fingers. With a nod, she released the breath and muttered to herself, “You’ve made your pizza, now lie in it.”
She smoothed down her dress as she walked to the door, grabbed the handle and pulled it open. Oh god, I wasn’t prepared for this . Oakley stood on her front stoop in dark jeans and a green T-shirt that made his eyes pop. His blond hair was a mess, like he’d been running a hand through it, and he was pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Where’s your jacket?”
“In my Jeep. Do I need it?”
She shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. She closed the door and admired Oakley from the back. He turned to look at her and she felt a pleasant shiver run up her spine. This man was unfairly beautiful and she didn’t know how to handle it.
“I’m glad you could come,” she said softly as he said, “I missed you.”
Her heart clenched at the sound of his laugh, because she had missed him too. He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes never leaving hers and she felt like she might melt through the floor.
“I’m glad you texted.”
She almost apologized for taking too long, but decided against it. Instead, she offered him a small smile and headed back to her kitchen.
“Dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Wine or beer?”
“Uh…neither, I’m good with water.”
She nodded and put the alcohol back into her fridge and pulled out a jug of water instead. “I made pizza. You okay with pepperoni?”
“Is it pizza if it doesn’t have pepperoni?” He sounded amused and she bit her bottom lip to hide her smile.
Hands covered in oven mitts, Clementine pulled the pies out and set them on the counter. The smell wrapped itself around her and she was glad that even though her mind was elsewhere, it turned out pretty good. She turned to reach for a plate, but bumped into Oakley. For a moment, she’d forgotten that he was there. Now his ocean scent invaded her senses and firm shoulders captivated her. She swallowed hard and lifted her head as he stepped into her space, hands landing on either side of her on the counter. He leaned in and a shudder ran through her before she tensed.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He started, backing away and she shook her head, gently grabbing his arm. With her eyes shut, she exhaled loudly. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t do this. I’ve never done this.”
“You don’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Clementine opened her eyes and looked at him, imploring him to understand. “I wanted to like it, but it also…” she sighed, thumb pressed against the wild pulse at his wrist. “I wasn’t prepared.”
“I get it.”
“You don’t,” she said softly and he stopped fidgeting to look at her. “Sex is complicated for me. It’s…I don’t…I haven’t…” Where are all my words when I need them?
“Oh. Oh . Shit, Clementine. I didn’t know.”
She rolled her eyes and released his arm, getting some of her fire back. “I’m not a virgin, not that there’s anything wrong with that either. And honestly what even is virginity, it’s a social—no, let’s not go down that road.” She straightened up, meeting his confused eyes. “I haven’t been with anyone in years. And to be honest, sex scares me.”
Oakley nodded. “Scares the shit out of me too.”
Pfft. He’s a total sex god and he’s trying to make me feel better .
“I take it you don’t believe me.” She didn’t say anything and he continued, “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time too and I had a panic attack after my last hook-up.”
“I believe you.”
He didn’t look away, almost like he was staring into her soul. “Why suggest this arrangement if it scares you?”
Damn good question.
She busied herself by plating the slices of pizza.“Because I figured you might help me get over my fears.”
She heard him inhale loudly and closed her eyes. It was definitely too much pressure to put on someone, especially someone new. But it was clear that he wanted her too and for that reason alone, she knew that Oakley would stay.
“Maybe we can help each other.”
“We can?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“We’re both nervous and scared about what sex means, maybe we need to get to know each other. Talk about why it scares us.”
“Isn’t that what therapists are for?”
He chuckled, the sound wrapping around her heart with a tight clench. “Pretty sure my therapist would suggest we do this too.”
“Mine would as well,” she admitted with a nod. “So…dinner and conversation first?”
“Absolutely. That pizza smells delicious.”
For that, she rewarded him with her best smile.