Chapter 11
As I guide Mikey down Main Street and around the edge of town to the small side road leading to my house, I’m slightly panicking, thinking I left my house a complete disaster.
My need to impress her overwhelms my sensibility, and while I’m generally a tidy person, my brain is telling me I left out a pair of dirty socks or have three days worth of dishes piled in my sink.
Which isn’t possible, because I live alone, and I do the dishes after every meal.
Mikey’s going to be in my house. In my guest room. Feet away all night, sleeping underneath my roof.
Instead of feeling nervous about a new person entering my personal space, I feel giddy.
I hope she likes my home.
A small gasp slips through her pretty lips when the trees break, and she sees the coastal cottage inspired house.
It was mine and Ruby’s childhood home, and when Mom passed, Ruby insisted I take ownership.
She lived with me while we got the shop off the ground, then she moved into the one bedroom apartment above it.
The exterior of the house is a robin’s egg blue, and I recently had it refreshed.
The front door is mom’s favorite color: hot pink.
It clashes in a way that works, and even though I could change it, I can’t bring myself to.
Having the eclectic colors makes me think of Mom and helps keep her memory alive.
It wouldn’t feel like home without it.
“This is… not what I was expecting your house to look like,” Mikey mumbles as she parks in the covered parking spot in front of my garage.
“Were you expecting a log cabin?” I tease.
“I should deny it, but yeah, a little.”
“Well, it’s not that, but come inside, and I’ll show you around. Do you need anything from in here?”
She reaches behind her and grabs a pile of neatly folded clothes. Jeans and a T-shirt, from what I can tell. “Just these.”
I bite back my disapproval. I’m assuming she has a similar outfit underneath her coveralls, and there’s no way she’s sleeping in jeans. Mikey deserves the utmost comfort, and sleeping in jeans is the opposite of that.
We get out of the truck and make our way into the house.
The front door opens into an entryway that used to separate two bedrooms, but now, to the left, is a bathroom where one bedroom used to be.
It’s an open floor plan, so once we step farther into the home, we see the expansive kitchen.
I knocked down the bedroom walls to extend the kitchen a few years ago.
The primary bedroom is across from the kitchen, and the living room bleeds into the space between in an open floor plan.
Mikey toes off her boots, her eyes wide as she takes it all in.
Half of the kitchen is the original floor plan, with oak cabinetry and a big basin sink, but the other half is the added industrial equipment.
I follow her gaze, taking in the state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, multiple refrigerators, double oven, and black granite countertops.
She takes in my living room with a brown L-shaped leather couch, coffee table, flat-screen TV, and record player.
All of the walls are painted an off-white color so I can decorate without having to worry about matching.
Ruby tried to convince me to paint it an earthy green, but I like the possibilities of a blank wall.
“This is really nice. Do you do a lot of baking here?” Mikey asks.
“Thank you. I mostly do prep work here. Since I have to be up so early for croissants or doughs that need to be proofed, it’s easier to do here, especially since Ruby preps in the café kitchen.
If I’m here, we’re not in each other’s way.
This is the guest room,” I motion to the closed door on my right, “over there is the bathroom. Ruby sleeps over sometimes when we have big orders or events, so she keeps some toiletries here. There are spare toothbrushes and toothpaste in the bottom drawer.”
“Oh, right. I’ll shower and get out of your hair so I’m not interrupting your routine.” She gives me a tense smile.
“I figured you’d want to get out of your work clothes as soon as possible, but if you’d rather not shower yet, we can play a board game or something. We didn’t get to finish our twenty questions, and I’ve been making a list.” I don't want her to feel dismissed or like she’s burdening me.
“Right. Of course, yes, I’d like to shower,” she says sheepishly. “I wouldn’t want to dirty your nice house with my grease stained coveralls.”
“Do you want a change of clothes?” I blurt out. “I mean, I’m not worried about your coveralls, first of all, but I want you to be comfortable, and I don’t think sleeping in jeans would be.”
“Oh, no, I’ll be okay. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s not a bother at all. Let me grab you something to wear.”
“Saint—”
“Please,” I beg. I want to see her in my clothes more than I am willing to admit out loud. The primal part of my brain wants to see her wearing my stuff as proof I’m taking care of her. The same part of my brain that puffs up its chest when she eats the food I provide.
You sound crazy.
Yeah, well. I never said I was sane.
Mikey’s shoulders slump, and the fight leaves her. “Okay.”
I nearly fist pump in excitement. I practically sprint to my room and rummage through my drawers in search of my softest T-shirt and a pair of sweats that will be too loose on her, but they have a drawstring.
I hesitate with my hand hovering over my underwear drawer.
Is it too forward? Maybe she’s got a pair of her own in that pile of clothes.
But if she doesn’t…
Then her bare pussy will be rubbing against the material of my sweatpants.
But if I give her my underwear, her pussy will be rubbing against the place my cock sits on any given day.
My cock stirs at the thought. If I put them on after she wears them it’ll be like my cock is rubbing—
Fuck.
I’m taking too long. I decide not to give her underwear, praying she’s got her own. I adjust my hard-on in my jeans, knowing full well I’m going to be back in here jerking off to thoughts of her in my house, naked, showering behind a piece of wood two inches thick.
“Here you go. Let me know if you need any help.” I offer her the clothes.
She takes them, her eyes widening slightly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
I step away despite every bone in my body aching to follow her into the bathroom. I want to wash her hair. Run my hands over the soapy flare of her hips. Kiss my way down her neck and—
Goddammit.
Like the absolutely smitten man I am, I stand there while she shuffles to the bathroom, finally moving when I hear the lock on the door click and the fan whirr to life.
My mind races, wondering what she’s doing behind the closed door. She’s probably untwisting her braids, letting the cocoa colored strands fall down her back. Does she have any tattoos hidden underneath her coveralls? God, I’m desperate to find out.
She’s probably in the shower by now, her coveralls and panties on the floor, the water sluicing over the curves of her body.
My cock thickens, pressing uncomfortably against my zipper as I imagine the way the water would saturate her hair, turning it darker.
I speed walk to my room, barely getting the door closed before I’m yanking my zipper down and freeing my length. I spit in my hand, too worked up to even make the five steps to grab lube in my bedside table.
The shower Mikey’s using wouldn’t fit both of us, I barely fit in it alone, but my shower would give us more than enough space to play. I throw my head against the door as I stroke myself slowly, imagining one of the many ways I want Mikey Snowe.
I step up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, and press soft kisses to her neck.
She sighs, relaxing into me as one of her hands tangles in my wet hair.
She turns her head, and our lips press together, tongues tangling for dominance.
My hands trail up and cup her breasts, gently brushing over her peaked nipples.
“Touch me, Saint,” she gasps into my mouth.
“I am touching you, sweetheart,” I tease, giving her nipples a gentle pinch.
“I need you to touch me lower.”
“Tell me exactly what you want, Mikey, use your words, and ask nicely.”
“Please, touch my pussy, Saint. I need you—” Her sentence is cut off by my fingers sliding through her wet lips, brushing against her clit.
“Goddamn, Mikelle, all of this for me? Does your needy little pussy need Daddy to show her how she deserves to be taken care of?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy. Please take care of my pussy.”
I slip my fingers down until two of them breach her tight entrance and—
A thud and a muffled curse pulls me from my fantasy at the same time I let out a pleasured groan and hot ropes of cum land in the palm of my hand.
Shit.
I hope she didn’t hear me.
I rush to my ensuite to clean up the mess and wash my hands before quickly stripping my clothes and pulling on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a new T-shirt.
When I walk out of my room, I see Mikey standing next to the landscape painting of the shore of Cupid’s Cove, her hair still slightly damp.
The shirt I gave her looks like a dress, and the sweats pool at her ankles.
The possessive, caveman side of me wants to beat my chest in pride over seeing her in my clothes, and my cock twitches again, even though I just came.
“Everything okay?” I ask, startling her. She jumps, clutching her chest as she turns to look at me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I was so mesmerized by the painting I didn’t even hear you.”
“I thought I heard a thud earlier, are you okay?”
Mikey bites her lip and doesn’t meet my eyes when she says, “Yeah, I’m fine. I got a little distracted by something and wasn’t watching where I was going, so I tripped over the coffee table.”
Oh fuck, did she actually hear me?
I sure hope not.
“You’re not hurt?”
“No, I swear.”
“You showered fast. What was that, less than fifteen minutes?”
“The hot water in my place runs out quickly, so I’ve mastered the art of quick showers. I could have stayed in yours for hours, though. Ruby’s products smell incredible, and it’s so spacious. I have a shower stall at home, and my elbows are always hitting the walls,” she rambles.
“Sounds like you need to move.” In with me. “Are you hungry at all?”
She shakes her head. “I’m still stuffed.”
“Well I’m going to prepare some meals for the next few days if you don’t mind. It makes eating easier when I don’t have to stop baking to prepare a whole meal. Have a seat, would you like something to drink? I have water, lemonade, juice, or I think I have some beer.”
“I’ll just have some water, thank you.”
I grab her a glass and fill it, sliding it across the counter to her. I watch her throat bob as she swallows and have to look away before my imagination gets the best of me.
“What are you prepping?” she asks as I take a pot and fill it with water, tossing in some salt.
“Pesto pasta. Well, technically, it’s not pesto, but it’s close. Don’t tell Ruby, or she’ll give me a lecture on proper Italian cuisine. Pine nuts can be pricey, and this has more protein, so it’s more filling.”
I grab cottage cheese and spinach from the fridge, then a cutting board, a red onion, and a head of garlic.
Mikey’s nose crinkles when she looks at the ingredients.
“Don’t worry, the cottage cheese adds a creamy, cheesy taste to the sauce. I’m not leaving it lumpy.”
“If you say so. You haven’t steered me wrong with food yet. I’m interested to see how something that’s not baked goods tastes.”
I point the knife at her teasingly. “Hey, I can cook, remember? I just choose to let Ruby do it because she’s better at it, and I love baking more.”
“I guess I’ll be the judge of that, big guy.”
Fuck me, but this easy banter is sexy. I feel content with her here, on my stool, in my kitchen. I could do this every day. I can’t stop the grin overtaking my face, even though my eyes burn from chopping the onion.
By the time everything is diced, the water is boiling, so I toss in the noodles and set some Italian sausages in the air fryer.
“All right, how many questions do we have left?” I ask as I throw the ingredients into my blender.
“Fifteen?”
“Sounds about right. Do you want to go first or should I?”
“Take it away, baker man.”
I turn on the blender to add to the suspense. The truth is, I have more than fifteen questions for her, and I can't decide on one. Though, there is something I’ve been curious about since Merv mentioned it in passing.
“What’s the story with your most recent ex?”