Page 34 of The Rescue

I’ve managed to get a batch of scones made and in the oven and I’m fully dialled into my work. I’m kneading out my second batch of scones, when I get a waft of that familiar sweet vanilla scent. I look up, at the same time, Crystal takes a picture of me on her camera. I blink and I feel my face heating up. I’m not used to this kind of attention, and I don’t know how to feel or act.

“Keep working, that picture looked great. I’m not here, remember,” she points the camera at me.

Her guidance is just what I needed, she told me she’s not here, but I can feel her presence a mile away and my body is on edge. I get back to work, but I feel rigid and robotic. Crystal can see that I’m uncomfortable and puts the camera down on a shelf and walks over to me.

“What’s your favourite song to listen to when you’re working?” She asks, her green eyes searching mine.

I’m confused by this question and then I realise she is trying to make me feel relaxed. The dread starts to set in becausesomeone learning your music tastes like reading someone’s journal.

“I don’t really have one, I’m happy with the radio playing.” I lie.

I never listen to the radio, but I’ve been playing it since Crystal has been staying with me. I don’t want to expose my music choices to her as she walks through my kitchen every morning. She narrows her eyes at me, and instantly knows I’m full of shit. An AD comes on on the radio, and the fast voice and crappy music has me wincing. That’s all the confirmation she needs to persist that we put music on.

“I think we should put it on so you can relax, and I can get some good shots,” she smiles gently at me. “Where’s your phone?”

I hold my dough covered hands up to her, and shrug.

“Um, it’s in my front right pocket.”

She looks down to my crotch, and backs up. Her eyes are dark, and I have to mentally tell my cock not to betray me whilst she steps close. I get a whiff of her delicious vanilla scent. My body is so strung tight that I’m worried one touch from her is going to make me snap. She reaches into my jeans, and I have to close my eyes and hope that my cock behaves himself. He seems to have a mind of his own these days. Just having her this close to me is making me crazy. She fishes my phone out of my pocket and steps back, and I let out a long, shaky breath that I’d been holding in.

She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, and her cheeks have turned a soft shade of pink.Is she nervous around me, or is she uncomfortable?

She slides my phone open, and opens Spotify to find my playlist. If this is a way to get a girl you’re crushing on to run a mile, this is the way to do it.

“Bake it like no one’s watching?”

She looks up, and bites on her lip to hide her smile.

I feel my face flush, and I want to die from the embarrassment. She scrolls through the playlist and she can’t help but smirk at the screen.

“Britney Spears?”

Oh god.

“The Pussycat Dolls?”

Kill me now.

“TAYLOR SWIFT? You’re a closet swiftie?” She teases me as she looks up from my phone.

“Alright, alright, can’t a man like Taylor Swift?” I try to grab the phone off her, but she holds it above her head which is fucking cute because she’s a foot smaller than me.

“Which song is your favourite? I bet it’s Cruel Summer.”

She runs away from me around the stainless steel island, the playful look on her face has my blood rushing and in a good way. We’re at a standoff on either side, her chest is rising and falling. She’s loving this as much as I am.

“Wait until I tell the guys you’re a pop princess.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I try to hide my smirk. I don’t care, the guys know my music taste. She gets distracted by scrolling through the playlist, and that’s when I take my chance. I make a quick lunge for her around the island, and I manage to cage her in by putting both my hands on the island. I have to practically crouch down to get on eye level with her. Being this close to her is intoxicating, mix that with some playful banter and my head is spinning. She stops mid scroll, and eyes roam my face. I wish I could tell what she’s thinking. She holds my phone behind her back, and I try to grab it out of her hand.

“Hey! Your hands are covered in dough, and we’re meant to be taking professional pictures,” she giggles.

The word professional is like a cold splash of water to the face, a reminder that I need to keep this a working relationshipbecause of many reasons. All of a sudden our silly little game feels stupid and inappropriate. I take a step back from her. I put on my business owner hat and start taking this seriously.

“You’re right, sorry. Go ahead and take your pictures, I’ll try and relax,” I lower my hands and go back to making the scones.

She stands still for a second, and I can’t read her facial expression. I hope I didn’t cross a line, I don’t want her to think I’m being a creep chasing her around the kitchen when she’s trying to take pictures.

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