40. Bash
40
BASH
Faye groaned a noise so loud, Bash’s immediate response was to raise his sticky hands and make it perfectly clear to everyone in the nearby vicinity that her groan had nothing to do with him at all.
“It’s not working.”
A clatter of metal on metal.
“I think you need to whip it harder,” Chandra supplied.
Bash peered sideways at the assortment of pots, bottles, and ingredients on the counter. “Maybe you need a different cream?” He pointed the dripping nozzle in his hands at the pot Faye’d poured from. “That’s single cream, right?”
Breathing furiously, her sweat lined brow sliced towards him.
“You need whipping cream, don’t you?” Bash didn’t know if he was right or not; his baking prowess consisted of a phone and an online order form on the days where Baked by the Dozen didn’t supply his sweet treats.
Across the expanse of the stainless steel countertop, Chandra’s wince made his stomach curl. Neither reactions were a good sign.
Swearing, Faye swiped at the industrial sized bottle. Bash set down his cone-like bag and resisted taking a swipe at the whipped, white chocolate ga nache that leaked from the end. It’d taken ten minutes of instruction, but he’d gotten the hang of piping eventually.
“This was never going to work.” Faye’s shoulders fell, and Bash wanted to wrap her up in his arms when her eyes began to shimmer. The harsh white lights of Baked ’s kitchen deepened the shadows under those eyes. “I took the wrong cream from the fridge after we finished the last one.”
Exhausted sighs added weight to the air as Faye folded herself over and braced her hands on the counter, hanging her head above the mixing bowl of failed frosting. She’d hand whipped that bowl for ten minutes after the plug on the electric whisk decided it would try to burn the building down.
Gem, the student, flittered in and out of the kitchen with cleaning fluids and washcloths to disinfect the seating space.
Bash tossed his catering gloves into the bin beneath the counter and set his hands gently where Faye’s back curved at the base of her spine. She’d been on her feet since a little after six a.m, and they were only halfway through filling a stack of sweet tartlet cases Baked planned to launch on New Year’s eve. According to the calendar on the wall, only tonight was left to finish and set them in the fridge.
The last two days had been bliss; his work was stress free, being with Faye was easy. He’d been walking on sunshine and clouds thinking nothing could be better. They’d worked out a routine where he picked her up from Baked after she was done for the day, and – so long as she didn’t need to get anything from her flat – brought her straight home to his place.
With one of her additional staff off with sickness, she needed the extra help today, which was where he’d come in. A pair of hands asking for no payment except for a kiss when the front door finally read “Closed” and a doughnut tossed in.
The baking, Bash wasn’t so good at, and Faye didn’t let him near her beloved giant mixing machines anyway, but he was another pair of ha nds on the till, or wiping the tables after customers had left. He scrubbed plates and saucers clean pretty expertly, too.
Being here gave him a hint of the new purpose he’d been searching for. Satisfied a little ache within him for wanting something more. And with Faye leaving London, Bash gave himself no choice but to soak up all of the time she could give to him.
He’d watched her dash between the kitchen, serving, fielding phone calls, online orders, and the bakery’s email inbox all day long. Every second she’d crossed his path, he was filled with pride. That’s my girl, he’d thought to himself over and over again. He knew she was stressed with everything needing to be done in the next few weeks, and Bash was going to be there at every step, not letting her sink when the waves rose too high over her one-woman ship.
Working his palms in slow circles whilst Faye breathed out her frustrations, he glanced at Chandra quietly moving the failed bowl toward the food waste bins. He locked eyes with her in a look that asked her to give them a minute of privacy.
It was seven o’clock, and time for them to go home.
“Are you alright?” Bash quietly pressed a kiss to Faye’s shoulder, hoping his softness would soothe her.
“No.” She sniffed, hunched over with her head buried in her folded arms. “I fucked this up. We don’t have time to fuck these up – the tarts need to be on the shelf tomorrow.”
Bash had known Faye for long enough to know that she would stay here until she collapsed and probably sell her soul for everything to be perfect if he didn’t pull her away tonight.
“You’re tired, Peanut,” he said with straightforward softness. “There’s a whole stack of perfect ones right over there in the fridge ready for tomorrow. We’ll call them limited edition.” Pragmatism seemed his best shot at encouragement. “Just … let me take you home now, okay?”
If his calves screamed and the soles of his feet were like standing on needle s every time he shifted his weight, then it was safe to assume that Faye’s were just the same.
It looked like he didn’t need to throw out any more persuasive devices from his arsenal when she groaned again, pulling herself upright that time. His palms brushed down to her hips whilst she reached behind herself to undo her apron.
Chandra teetered in the doorway to the office. “I’ll help you clean up.”
Their eyes met again and Bash gave her a friendly wink of thanks.
The kitchen finally went dark at seven-fifteen.
Faye had let Gem go to get ready for a party before the kitchen clean-up began, leaving Bash and Chandra to tag team the dirty baking trays and countertops whilst Faye closed up the day’s accounts.
Bash stumbled into the office and plonked himself down on the seat opposite her, unashamedly manspreading in the narrow space and throwing his head back in tired relief. A lemony scent of disinfectant coated the inside of his nose like a film he’d still be trying to expel from his system tomorrow, and he might’ve helped himself to some leftover ganache to help combat that bitter taste in the back of his throat.
He gave himself a minute then lifted his head and laced his hands together in his lap, letting his eyes wander while Faye was distracted.
In the corner of the office sat the box of things customers had left behind; scarves, glasses cases, children’s teddies. All reminders that there were people with their own lives outside of these walls. Bash wondered how long those things might stay here – if one day they’d all just be thrown away.
Face lit by her iPad screen as she clicked away on likely another email, Fay e glanced over the device at him. “Thank you for coming today.” The exhaustion in her voice wrenched at Bash’s heart.
“You’re welcome, Peanut. I’m just glad I didn’t ruin anything.” His stupid brain didn’t stop his tongue from saying that before he realised what he’d implied.
Fortunately for him, Faye didn’t take his comment the wrong way. The lazy curve in her smile was tiny, but it was definitely there. A tease visibly working its way onto those lips.
“I’ve tasted your baking, honey,” she retorted. “Those skills are definitely a work in progress.”
Honey. She was adorable.
Bash put his hand over his heart in feigned hurt at her cheekiness. “Ouch. Have mercy, woman. My baking skills are fantastic!”
Faye laughed under her breath, and he remembered he’d happily make himself the fool, always, if it’d make that sound come from her lips. Acorn-like eyes twinkled and called him out on his bullshit.
“It’s not my fault if the recipes I steal from online are poor,” he added.
Faye folded her arms on the edge of the desk, inadvertently drawing Bash’s gaze to where she’d undone the top couple of buttons on her blouse. Distracted, he almost didn’t hear her.
“Maybe you want to take over for me tomorrow then? I could have the day off.”
Did she wish for her beloved bakery to crumble and die?
“On second thought, I’ll just stick to serving and wiping down.”
Faye’s lips twitched. “I’ll teach you how to bake without burning anything, if you want.”
“I’d love that.” He really would. Just watching Faye in her element was enough to make Bash’s heart trip for her all over again. He sat back and exhaled, working out a knot in his spine. “But not tonight. Pizza in my bathtub sounds good instead. ”
“It does,” Faye echoed, still looking at him with those hazy eyes.
Come home with me, Bash almost said. Let’s just go home.
The cursory knock on the open door wasn’t enough to make him look away from her.
“Am I alright to take off now?” Chandra asked, pulling the giant clip from her black hair.
Faye’s eyes wandered, however, her smile flattening before she registered her colleague’s question. “Yes, of course. Have a good evening.”
They didn’t speak as Chandra swapped her work shoes for boots and gathered her things.
When she’d found out about their new relationship status, she’d been surprised, but had raised her brow at Bash with a look of what took you so long? It’d been painfully clear what Faye meant to him when he’d bent down to her level at this very same desk, cupped her cheek, and kissed her lips in a way which left no doubt that he was hers.
His proposition for some shared bathing had put visions into Bash’s mind, and if they were in his thoughts then they were certainly in Faye’s too. He didn’t say anything in case they went away and the dream faded.
He’d already decided on ordering pizza on their way home so it’d be at their doorstep soon after they arrived. He’d peel Faye out of her clothes, kiss the back of her neck and her shoulders as steamy water filled up his freestanding tub. His hands would guide her to sit between his thighs in the delicious warmth, soaking up her knots and sores. A cheesy slice in her hand as he kneaded her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, then sink his fingers between them. She would melt back against him and they’d just exist together in a relaxing pool of pleasure.
That picture of tonight warmed up Bash’s neck as he gazed over the desk stacked with paperwork.
The tapping of rain began on Baked ’s front windows was a distant pit pat on the glass. Chandra said goodnight with a look of gracious relief and left them alone in the silence of the empty bakery.
Something unspoken moved through the air between them as Faye dragged her plump lower lip between her teeth, peering at him as though she’d waited all day for them to be alone. Bash could only imagine what he looked like in the shadows; his eyes dark and brooding, grey t-shirt stretched over his chest.
“Would you come over here?” he asked her warmly.
“Why?” she responded but moved to her feet, her trouser hems falling into place.
Bash would’ve thought the answer was obvious. “I’ve been desperate to kiss you since we stepped foot in the building at dawn.”
The flash in Faye’s eyes hinted to her shock that he’d be so bold. Another side of himself that was new to her which she should get used to, and fairly soon.
She slid onto his lap with ease, like when his designs on paper fitted perfectly together in reality, arms folding around his neck. Breathing in her nearness and the hint of her bright, floral perfume, Bash brushed his hand up her back, the other finding the clip in her hair and setting it free. Her exhale as her mouth inched towards his was like blessed relief.
Their kiss had been a long time coming. All day he’d been so near to her and unable to take her in his arms like he’d been desperate to do so many times.
He opened his mouth to her and groaned at the weight of her in his lap, the tangle of her fingers in his hair. He massaged his blunt nails through the roots of hers, earning him groan after groan.
Bash lost himself to the minutes of lips brushing his, and his intensifying fantasy of locking the front door, closing the shutters and locking themselves away in this office all night.
Time both quickened and slowed until a cramp in his hip made hi m pull back with a pitched whine that Faye misinterpreted at first.
“Oh no! I’m hurting you?—”
“Don't. Go. Anywhere.” Bash clamped his hands around her hips with a grimace. The muscle spasming awkwardly in his thigh was enough to make his eyelids squeeze shut.
Faye stayed, chuckling at his misfortune even if she tried not to. “You good?”
“Mhm.” It wasn’t exactly how he’d planned for this kiss to end.
“Was that too much excitement for you?”
Very funny.
“Not nearly enough.” It didn’t pass Bash by as the cramp ebbed how she’d shifted her ass further over his halfway excited crotch. “By the way, I know you’ve told Maisie and Sienna about us, I told Ben and Freddy too. So long as we don’t mention that we’re having sex in front of them, they’re happy.”
“We’re having sex?” Faye teased.
The darkness in Bash’s eyes was like a promise for later. “If you play your cards right, mon c?ur ? * .”
Smiling like kissing him had satiated a kind of need, Faye tipped her head against his shoulder, content to rest in his arms. If neither of them moved, then they’d sit here for hours more just holding onto one another, which went directly against Bash’s desire to get her home and rested.
This bakery was her life, but maybe Faye needed reminding that there was more to life than the numerous walls of this place.
She’d just spent five whole days away with him and there’d been no fires at Baked, no catastrophes. Bash knew she’d been reserved at first, but kidnapping her away from here had been the best thing he could’ve done for her this Christmas. To see her so content and relaxed … Maybe he could make the plans for her evening even better and serve that reminder ?
His pulse quickened to a canter, feeling it kick in every inch of his body.
He had something he wanted to ask her closer to midnight on New Year’s eve tomorrow anyway, so why not ask her here and now?
“Something’s on your mind,” Faye murmured, her lips skimming up and down his throat. “I can see it.”
Here goes nothing.
“I was thinking,” Bash said slowly, “that we should get married.”
Silence.
* ? My heart