Page 11 of Baking With A Rockstar

Mortification rushes through me, and I bow my head as the familiar heat rushes into my cheeks. Please, oh please, please,please, where is that hole in the ground to help you escape when you really need it?

Embarrassment about my wrong assumption battles with the slight annoyance of wondering if he did this on purpose, or if he just naturally likes to talk in riddles.

“Well, could you please tell mewhatexactlyyou meant then?” My voice squeaks a little at the end, and I hate to admit he’s already getting to me. I’ve known him for less than a day, and he’s already gotten a rise out of me—not to mention the drooling I’ve already done over him too.

But that’s beside the point, because I’ll continue to pretend that never happened.

“I want you to spend a little bit of time with me every day—if possible, just the two of us.” There’s no trace of a smile on his face. Nothing that would hint at him joking or making fun of me.

I’m all but ready to huff and puff. “Let me get this straight. You want to hang out with me as your condition, but you don’t want to date. What exactly would we be doing then? And does it really have to be every day?”

Either something I just said was unintentionally funny or my facial expressions must be amusing enough to make him burst into laughter.

After a few moments, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly to stop his outburst. “Oh, Charlie, you’re really something. I know what I’m about to say might sound a little strange, but let’s just say that I think you’re my muse.”

“Your what? Muse?” My eyebrows shoot up, and I’m not sure I heard him correctly. I’m more than a little confused though because all my brain can come up with are artists’ muses, the naked ones we’ve all heard about before.

I’mdefinitelynot going to do that.

Nope. No. No way, Jose.

“Yes. Apparently, my brain finds you very...uh...stimulating.” He says the last word casually, like it doesn’t hold a highly suggestive double meaning that my brain catches right away. “Coming back to the whole dating thing, though. I’d love to take you out sometime. Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

His grin is so beautiful with a hint of a mischievous glint that I can almost hear my heart gopitter-patter.

Without a doubt, I’m one hundred percent sure this man is trouble.

So. Much. Trouble.

I ignore him for a moment while finally taking care of Mirabelle, who’s been getting more impatient by the second.

After cleaning her up, as well as the mess she made with Hudson, I pick her up under her pudgy little arms. She gives me the biggest smile and presses her face into mine. “Hi, sweetie. Do you want to play a little?”

Her answer is a loud, excited squeal followed by a round of clapping, making both Hudson and me laugh. I walk over to the playard with her. When I’m about to put her down, she suddenly tries to reach behind me. I turn around to see what she wants and almost bump into Hudson. I didn’t hear him walk over to us, but now I’m pretty sure I know exactly what—or rather,who—Mirabelle is trying to reach.

This little stinker is already smitten with the rockstar.

“Mira, should we go play with your toys?” Hudson’s voice has turned soft and soothing as the two of them stare at each other. I haven’t dated since Mira was born and Sebastian and I split up, so I’ve never been confronted with the sheer power of an attractive man combined with a baby.

Somebody, please have mercy, because I’m not sure my ovaries can take this any longer.

“Of course, only if it’s okay with your mommy.” His brown eyes bore into mine, and I’m uncertain I can form a cohesive sentence right now.

Luckily Mirabelle wants his attention again, and he breaks our eye contact. Taking a deep breath, I try to find my dignity and look for some self-control along the way too. It seems like I lost both the second Mr. Abs-and-Dimples popped into the kitchen this morning.

Brain to body, no more googly eyes for the rockstar.

“So, what do you say, Charlie?” It doesn’t escape my notice that Hudson keeps pushing the matter, and somehow, I have no doubt he usually gets what he wants.

“Yes.” My voice is shaky, and I can’t positively say I know what I just agreed to.

“Yes?” He turns my answer into a question, and I’m stunned that he seems surprised. Maybe I’m not that easy after all.

After clearing my throat, I try again. “Yes to playing with Mira, and yes to the musemeetings.” My voice is firm this time, and I feel a little proud of myself for sounding confident and strong instead of weak and insecure.

Look at that, Mr. Rockstar. No starstruck fan here.

I decide then and there this will be my new mantra. I have a feeling I’m going to repeat it a lot over the next few weeks, but he’s just a normal guy after all—a normal guy who poops.

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