Chapter 13
Reina
I'd felt shaky ever since I caught the whiff of smoke outside my bakery. I shouldn't have stepped inside. The memories of that night flooded my brain, and I couldn't shut them off. I felt the panic of that night come back to me.
But Morgan had immediately come to my side to reassure me, to remind me that I'd survived the fire. And it was all because of him.
He'd gotten me out of there and into fresh air. The caffeine and sugar from my latte helped settle me, and the walk through town grounded me.
The site of the decorated Christmas tree reminded me that I opened my bakery here because I thought it was the best place to run my business. I believed in the town and bringing the magic of Christmas to everyone year-round. I couldn't give up now.
Morgan would ensure that the bakery was brought up to code and that it was firesafe.
Something else had become clear when I saw the damage; I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay in that apartment again. Even if everything was updated, there were fire alarms and a fire ladder, I wasn't sure I'd be able to sleep.
It was so convenient to live above the shop. How could I justify living somewhere else? My lease included the apartment. If I got another place, it would be an added expense. One I hadn't planned for.
I hadn't shared that particular fear with Morgan. He'd already done enough for me. He wasn't supposed to be supporting me through this entire process. He was Tom's friend and my contractor. I didn't want him to feel like he had to protect me or watch out for me.
We sat at the square to finish our drinks, and then Morgan walked me back to town hall. I had more work to do, and I needed to clear my head after visiting the bakery. I thought I could handle seeing it again, but I was wrong.
I still needed to clear out my apartment and wash everything. I just didn't think I could go up there. I assumed my memories would be stronger there, and I wasn't ready to face those yet. I'd have to clean it soon but not now. Not while everything was so fresh in my mind.
I hoped that Morgan didn't tell Tom or my parents how I'd freaked out. I didn't want them to worry.
It wasn't right to lean on Morgan because he was the man who saved me. I should stand on my own two feet.
I baked for the rest of the afternoon, fulfilling several catering orders and desserts for Mistletoe Inn. Jill cleaned up and left at some point, but I'd barely noticed. I was determined to snuff out the shock and fear from seeing the damage to the bakery.
By the time I cleaned up the kitchen and delivered the evening's desserts to the inn, I felt marginally better.
It had been a scary experience. But I needed to move past it if I was ever going to live and work in that building again. I couldn't move somewhere else. I was under contract to be at that location. I was petrified that I wouldn't be able to make it work.
Eve drove me home, and Morgan's truck was already in the driveway. I was surprised he was home so early.
Inside, I smelled dinner cooking. I walked into the kitchen. "You didn't have to cook dinner."
Morgan shrugged as he transferred steaming strips of chicken to a serving dish. "Tomorrow, the cleaning company is coming. We can't do any more work until they're finished."
I placed my purse on the counter, my stomach tightening. "Are they cleaning my apartment too? Should I have removed my things?"
He frowned. "They're contracted to clear the building."
My shoulders stiffened. "I should go tonight and grab all my personal effects."
He raised a palm. "I'll tell them to work on the bakery first. Then we'll clean out the apartment in the morning."
I chewed my lip. "I'm baking in the morning, but I suppose I could put a sign on the door that something came up.
It's not like it's a permanent location or anything.
People will understand." But would they?
I'd already experienced enough upheaval the last few weeks.
My customers were going to lose trust in me.
"I'll take care of it." He dumped shredded cheese into a bowl.
The smell of fajitas made my stomach growl. "That's not your responsibility."
He raised a brow. "It kind of is."
I wanted to argue, but my mind was racing with everything I needed to do tomorrow. It wasn't right to rely on Morgan to take care of my apartment. It was my responsibility.
He grabbed wraps from the pantry and placed several strips of meat inside. Then he handed me the plate. "You can add whatever toppings you'd like."
I was too hungry to argue, so I loaded the fajitas up with cheese, salsa, and peppers. I took a bite and practically moaned. "These are so good."
He filled tortillas with chicken for himself. "I thought you might be hungry. You worked later than usual."
I chewed and swallowed. "Natasha ordered more desserts tonight. I think there must be an event at the restaurant."
"It's good that you're busy."
I nodded as I took another bite. "And I was worried I wouldn't have anything to do while the bakery was closed."
"You've been able to continue your business, which is amazing."
I lowered the fajita. "But if I need to clear out my apartment tomorrow, I can do that."
"I'm calling in reinforcements, people who want to help you."
I tipped my head to the side. "I should do it myself. It's my apartment."
He braced his hands on the counter. "And if my family and the town want to help you? What then? Should I turn them away? Say that you stubbornly insist on doing everything yourself?"
"When you put it like that—" It sounded crazy for me to refuse help.
He nodded. "Everyone feels badly about the fire. They want to help, and since you're generally terrible about accepting it, this is the only thing they can do."
I sighed. "If you're sure people don't mind."
"I'll be there to ensure that everything is taken care of. You focus on baking."
I wasn't even sure I could go inside the apartment, especially not after my reaction to the bakery today.
He brought his plate to sit next to me, adding a bit of the toppings to his tortillas. "I almost forgot. Aspen made margaritas."
"She did?"
"Yeah, she saw me in the grocery store buying the fixings for fajitas and said she'd bring by her famous mix."
"I'm excited to try it." I kind of wanted to forget about my reaction this morning to the damage, the reminder that I was weaker than I wanted to be.
He got up and poured two glasses from the pitcher.
I sipped it. "This is perfect. Thank you."
"I can't always be here early to cook dinner, but when I can be, I'll chip in."
I figured he'd be working late now that he'd started on the bakery. This might be the last night I saw him for a while. I wasn't even sure I could stop by the bakery to check on the progress.
We fell silent, eating our fajitas and sipping our margaritas. When I was finished, he asked, "Did you sell everything?"
"Almost everything. I brought home some cupcakes." I never served anything that wasn't fresh. It was a constant struggle to anticipate what would sell and what wouldn't.
"What do you do with the leftovers?"
"I have an agreement with the homeless shelter that serves meals for dinner. I bring whatever I have left, and they'll take it."
"I didn't know you did that."
I shrugged. "It's not like baked goods are a necessity for survival, but it's something."
"You don't think that a dessert brings people pleasure, no matter what their life circumstances?"
I nodded. "I guess they do. But do they need it?"
"I think everyone enjoys a little treat at the end of the day."
I smiled, feeling a little lighter after a few sips. "I'm enjoying this margarita."
"It's the same for someone who's down on their luck and needs a meal. The dessert might just be the hope they need to make it through another day."
"I never thought about it like that. I didn't want the food to go to waste, and it was an easy thing for me to do."
"You're doing a good thing for this town. Your baked goods spread happiness. You know how relieved townspeople are that you were able to reopen at town hall?"
"I thought they might be, but I wasn't sure."
"I've seen customers pause to drink their coffee or eat a pastry and talk to others. It's a social thing."
"That's what I hoped it would be." The bakery was a destination, a social experience. A necessary one, from what Morgan was saying. People were relieved that the bakery could continue even if it wasn't exactly the same. "I should ask Eve about adding an outdoor space."
He grinned. "I think you should."
"Why not make the bakery even better?" If the customers wanted a social meeting place, I'd give them that. "I've only ever had tables and chairs, but I could add a few stuffed armchairs and maybe a couch in front of the fireplace."
"This is your chance to make it anything you want it to be."
Now I was thinking about all the ways I could improve the space and not worrying about my reaction to the fire. If I focused on improving my business, I wouldn't need to worry about how I was going to live upstairs. I'd get over it eventually.
He stood to clean up the mess, and I moved to help him.
The margarita made me feel lighter and more carefree. I was able to push aside my worries about the fire and focus on the future, on making things better.
"It helps to remember that people view the bakery as a staple in their day. It's giving me the determination to move forward." Even when it was hard and I wanted to hide under my blankets.
"That's my girl."
I flushed hot at his praise.
"Do you want to watch a movie?"
"Can we stay inside this time?"
He nodded. "Why don't you go into the living room and get comfortable? I'll finish up here and start the popcorn."
It was nice to spend evenings with someone, and I never thought it would be with Morgan.
I'd gotten to know him the last several weeks, and he seemed like a good guy.
He'd certainly gone out of his way to help me.
I wondered if he was still fulfilling his vow to my brother or if it was something else.
When I moved into the living room, a memory from my childhood popped up of creating elaborate forts, making everyone help me drag the blankets and pillows into the living room for movie night.
Morgan had plenty of both in his living room. I threw the cushions from the couch on the floor and then used a sheet I found in the laundry room as the roof for the fort. I stacked the blankets inside as the popcorn machine turned on.
I stood back and admired my work. It was sturdy and should withstand two adults inside.
Morgan came into the room with a bowl of popcorn. "What's this?"
"I thought I'd build a fort." Maybe he thought it was stupid and childish.
He raised an amused brow. "We're going to sit inside?"
"If you don't mind. This is something I liked doing as a kid." And I was still unsettled from everything that happened today; I needed comfort.
"Cool," he said and handed me the bowl. He climbed into the fort as I dropped to my knees. When he was settled, I handed him the bowl.
He sighed. "I forgot the margaritas."
"I'll grab them." I went into the kitchen to get the two glasses, and made my way back to the fort.
He'd turned on the TV and was scrolling through options. I handed him the glasses and climbed in next to him.
He waited for me to get settled under the blankets, then handed me a glass.
I sipped mine while he chose a comedy. I could use something lighter. I settled against the cushions, my shoulder leaning against his.
The fort was cozy, blocking out the world. It was just the two of us tonight. It reminded me of being stuck inside for snowstorms. But that wasn't what this was. It was a temporary reprieve from my real life.
"This is nice."
"Cozy, right?" I asked, snuggling deeper into the blankets.
His leg was touching mine, and heat traveled through my body. I wanted more than a movie or popcorn. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to forget about everything: the fire, the damage, and my fears about returning to the scene of the scariest night of my life.
I tensed, wondering if he felt the same way, or if I was out of bounds. I drank a big gulp of my margarita for courage and set the glass aside.
I waited until the popcorn was gone and the bowl was on the floor before I shifted so that my breast rubbed against his arm.
He glanced over at me, and I bit my lip, wondering how I'd make my move. He tipped my chin up.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm wondering if you're having the same thoughts I am. Because mine are dirty." I knew it was partially from the trauma I'd dragged up this morning, but I wasn't ready to dismiss it. I wanted to feel. I wanted to lose myself in something.
His heated gaze searched mine. "Are you sure? If we do this, there's no going back."
I gave him a slight nod, my breath ragged as I waited for him to lower his lips to mine. When they touched, I closed my eyes, my body seemingly on fire. I shifted so that I was straddling his lap, his hands on my back. When I rubbed over his thickening cock, I whimpered into his mouth.
Why hadn't we done this earlier? It was like I'd been charged with electricity, and he was the only outlet for the feelings flowing through me.
My fingers tugged on his hair; I wanted more. It turned a little frantic after that.
He rolled us so that I was underneath him, his hips cradled between my spread legs. His mouth never left mine, but his hands were under my shirt, pulling down the cup of my bra.
His dick ground against my warm center, and I was lost to the moment. "Too many clothes." I lifted his shirt, and he removed it. He shoved his pants off, leaving him in briefs.
He arched a brow. "It's your turn."
In that moment, I wasn't anyone's younger sister or even his client. We were two adults with needs and desires. This was the only way to rid myself of the feelings bubbling up inside my chest.
I sat up, removing my shirt and unhooking my bra. When I lay back, he tugged on my leggings, pulling them down and off.
Then he paused. "Are you sure about this?"
I nodded before any worries could enter my mind.
I was sure I wanted to feel good, and right now, I was positive that Morgan could make that happen.
He'd been so nice the last few weeks, offering me a place to live, a truck, and now he'd offered to clean out my apartment.
But there had been something simmering just underneath the surface, a desire for more.
I had a feeling tonight would be explosive, but I wasn't going to worry about the outcome or even what would happen tomorrow. For once, I was going to do something impulsive.
I wanted Morgan, and nothing could stop this from happening.