Page 38 of Mitch

“Fuck!” I said, thanking my lucky stars I didn’t drop the cake.

“Need a hand?” a familiar voice asked.

I looked over my shoulder to see Mitchell, once again dressed in some flashy island print shirt, his dark hair gelled back to expose his flawless olive skin.

My gaze roved over him, down to his tight, black jeans, and my cock twitchedin my own.

Fucking hell.

“Uh... yeah...” I stammered, like an absolute idiot.

How was it that every time this guy walked in the room, my brain took a vacation?

Mitchell slung his camera around his neck around to his back as he helped lift the other end of the box.

“Okay, go slow,” I said.

Mitchell smirked. “Always.”

Thankfully, I could hide my blush behind the box as my insides twisted at the tone of his voice.

I’d never really appreciated anyone’s voice before. But there was something about the way Mitchell spoke, even when he was being flirty as all hell that was just... soothing. Relaxing.

I could fall asleep to that voice.

Mitchell led me in through the door, pausing to ask if I was okay every few steps, until we’d reached our destination in the reserved room.

The place was decorated with Gatsby-twenties style decorations, and all the mingling partygoers were dressed in costume.

“Shit, I feel overdressed as fuck,” Mitchell said as we set the cake box down.

“I mean, I knew there was a theme, but they didn’t mention there would be costumes,” I said as I worked closely on separating the box from the cake itself.

I could hear Mitchell clicking away. Compared to my black button down and dark jeans, he definitely looked better than I did.

Seriously, I wished I could wear prints like that, but I’d just look like a reject from the eighties. Mitchell looked like some smooth model from South Beach.

“Looks good,” Archie said as he started to unfasten the tape on the box. We still had one more box to get—the box of sheet cake that would be in the back for traying up and serving the party.

Most of our three-tier cakes had a real top layer, but the bottoms were fake. Partially to keep down on the amount of cake related incidents in transport, but also because of cost. It was a lot cheaper for our clients to order what was essentially a small cake for the guest ofhonor and a large sheet cake that could feed a hundred people easier and for less.

“There’s still the sheet cake...” I started as Archie waved me off.

“I got this. Why don’t you go grab something to eat. I know you’ve got to be starving.”

My shoulders loosened as my stomach rumbled. He was right, I was hungry. Mostly because I’d spent all day sweating over tonight.

It was weird to walk into the shop that morning, without seeing Mitchell. Even after just a few days, I’d gotten used to his being around, and I kind of missed him.

“Are you sure?” I protested, but Archie only glared at me.

“Go. We’ve got plenty of time before we have to tie this up and get it ready.”

Mitchell shrugged. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said as he cocked his head toward the main dining room, near the bar. “I haven’t had more than a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll today,” he said as I reluctantly followed and Archie headed for the doors.

“Busy day for you too, I take it?” Iasked, glancing around the dining room. It wasn’t packed by any means, but there was a good handful of people dining, and sitting at the bar. Mitchell walked up and grabbed a menu off the bar, taking a seat at one of the open stools.

I followed suit, if only because I didn’t know what else to do.

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