Chapter 22 #2
Something deep inside me warms at the image she paints, a little bakery where I can experiment with recipes.
A small town full of friends who stop by first thing in the morning so they can grab whatever new muffin or scone I cooked up before they sell out.
Thea giving me a quick kiss and swiping the to-go coffee mug I filled for her before she runs off to work.
But that’s not real life, so I force a laugh. “Like anyone would pay for my cakes.”
Thea slides over to the stovetop where the reduction is cooling, dipping a spoon into the mixture and bringing it to her mouth. The moan that rips from her throat nearly puts me back on my knees for her.
“Did you see everyone’s reaction to your practice cake? I’d murder people for something you baked. My morals may be questionable—you know, with the fucking in a closet and all that—but I’m sure all those good, virtuous folks would at least pay money.”
I choose to ignore the dig she made at herself.
The last time I challenged her on that, she clammed up, and we’re having too good of a day to let it be ruined.
“I’ll just record the sounds you make. That’s all the advertisement I’d need.
People will come flooding in just in the hopes of catching you. ”
“What? These sounds?”
The noise that comes out of Thea’s mouth has me howling in laughter.
It’s technically a moan, but it’s so over-the-top.
I rush over to cover her mouth, and she spins away from me.
She tries to bolt, but I grab her hips a split second before she’d have been out of reach, yanking her back against me.
I wrap one arm around her middle and the other over her mouth.
“You’re going to get us arrested for public indecency. Or worse, bring my family in here,” I say, laughing so hard both our bodies are shaking with the force of it.
She tilts her head to look up at me, licking my hand to get me to pull it away from her mouth, then grins triumphantly. “You’d look good with a couple prison tattoos.”
“How about I stay out of prison, but I’ll get a cupcake tattooed on my ass for you?”
Spending time with Thea has made me feel freer, like I’m someone with no responsibility to anything except my enjoyment.
And when she laughs at my latest joke, staring up at me like I’m the real treat, I have a startling revelation.
Even though she’d say I couldn’t know after a couple of days, I’m certain beyond any doubt that I’m falling in love with her.
“If you two are having sex in my kitchen, I swear by all that is holy I’ll sic Mira on you.”
I cough and slide away from Thea as Camila lets the door swing closed behind her.
“Nothing’s happening,” I say, shooting a smile at Thea. “She’s just a chaos demon.”
Thea raises a brow at Camila. “I thought you couldn’t be around the baking smells. Isn’t that the reason you ‘couldn’t help Owen’?”
Camila rolls her eyes, slipping something small out of her pocket. “First, don’t pretend you aren’t ecstatic that I gave you an excuse to spend time with Owen. Second…”
She slips the little bit of plastic—a swimmer’s nose clip—over her nostrils, and hops up onto the counter, holding her hands wide like she’s displaying her brilliance.
“There, all smells stay out, and I can still bug you two,” she says, sounding like Rudolph wearing his fake nose. “What are you up to?”
Thea smirks back. “I’m trying to convince Owen he’s good enough to sell his own stuff.”
Camila just shakes her head, a sad little smile on her face. “That’s a pipe dream if I’ve ever heard one.”
My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. Not that I’d ever do anything with it, but that little dream Thea painted was tempting, and knowing my oldest friend—the one who patiently tried every failed concoction and begged for seconds of every success—thinks I can’t pull it off hurts.
Thea face hardens. “If you don’t think he can do this, I don’t trust your judgment for shit.”
Cami’s eyes widen in glee. “Feisty.”
Thea lifts her chin. I love watching her defend the people she cares about, her willingness to throw herself into a battle that isn’t hers out of nothing but love.
I mean, obviously she doesn’t love me, but I like to think I matter, and the way she’s subconsciously positioning herself between me and Cami, like she can protect me from the hurt of her words, says I do.
“What I meant,” Cami continues, “was that he’d never make the choice to leave his family’s company, even if he should.”
She looks directly at me for the last part, like it’s a given rather than something that’s rearranging the world underneath my feet.
I know Nana thinks I should leave. She’s been bugging me about it for years, but it’s always felt like she wanted me to come up to North Carolina more than she thought I should do something else with my life.
I figured it was just her dreaming of a world where almost all her grandkids were in the same town as her.
Camila looks back at Thea. “While he spirals, can I talk to you?”
Thea reaches over to squeeze my hand once, then says, “What’s up?”
“Alone,” Camila says, shooting a glance at me.
“She doesn’t want to be your mistress, Cami,” I say, turning my attention back to the reduction.
Camila rolls her eyes, but Thea barks out a laugh, and I think I could be content with only making Thea laugh for the rest of my life.
“Sorry, but he’s right. Should have made your move a few days ago,” she says.
A low growl rumbles in my throat, and I tug her to my side.
Cami groans. “I hate being the only one who knows about this. Y’all are disgusting and Mira doesn’t like gossip.”
“Do you need to talk now?” Thea asks. “I offered to run into town to grab the wedding bands from the jeweler.”
Camila hops off the counter. “No worries. Just find me when you get back.”
After Camila leaves, Thea grabs her purse from the counter. Before she can reach the door, I snake my arm around her waist.
“You’re leaving already?” I ask. “We haven’t made the buttercream yet.”
She lifts her brow at me. “You already told me that’s a one-person job.”
I drop my mouth to the place where her shoulder and neck meet. “What about my moral support?”
She laughs but tilts her head to give me better access. “Poor baby, having to make a batch of buttercream without someone to build up your ego.”
I twirl her to face me, loving the way her hands land on my chest like they belong there. “Stay.”
She nibbles on her lip. “I wish I could, but I promised I’d get the rings before the spa trip with your mom. We’re supposed to meet her at four.”
It’s only 12:30 PM. It’ll take about thirty minutes to make the Swiss meringue buttercream, plus a twenty-minute trip into town. Plenty of time to get the rings, even lunch, and still be back before she needs to meet Addy and my mom.
“We can make it work. Keep me company, and then we can go into town together and be back well before four.”
“I don’t know,” she says as her fingertips absentmindedly drift over the fabric of my shirt. “I should probably just get them and get back.”
I bend my knees to catch her gaze. “Imagine it. A couple hours of us hanging out with no worries about who may see us.”
“That does sound nice.”
“Then say you’ll stay,” I say.
She drops her head to my shoulder. I want to gather her even closer, to keep her there forever.
“Okay, but we need to be more careful. The wedding’s so close. We can’t get caught now. No more stolen moments in closets or staring at each other from across the room. And good lord, no more touching underneath the table.”
I laugh, and she shushes me, placing both hands over my mouth as I tighten my arms around her waist.
“Fine, but I’d like to set the expectation up front that I’m going to kiss you as many times as possible today while we’re away from my family,” I say, the words muffled by her hands.
The sexiest smirk slides over her lips. “You better.”