Page 12 of Baking With A Rockstar

The corners of his mouth lift into a triumphant smile. “Really? Okay then. Great.”

Pop. And there are the dimples.

Dang it.

New rule: no more looking at Hudson’s cheeks. These dimples are hazardous for my sanity.

“Great. I’m glad we got that settled.” I’m not really glad, and I think he knows that.

My stomach is filled with nerves, but I just couldn’t handle his extreme gaze anymore.

Let’s face it, listening to him talk to Mira in that gentle way might have turned me into putty a little bit too. Ironically, she looks just as happy as Hudson, giving me a huge grin, which I automatically return. There’s no way I cannot smile back at this girl.

“Beautiful momma you got there.” Hudson leans closer to us, so he can stage whisper to Mira. “Maybe you can help me convince her to go on a date with me sometime. What do you think, cutie pie, are you in?” He winks, and naturally, Mirabelle giggles happily in response.

Even though I shake my head, I’m unable to keep the smile off my face.

Hudson holds out his hands to Mirabelle and she moves over to him easily. Our arms and hands touch in the process, making my skin tingle everywhere. I hurry to get away from all this walking temptation and back into the kitchen, happy to be back in what I consider my safe place. At least the cupcakes won’t test my willpower like a certain rockstar already does, even though I have no one to blame but myself.

What on earth did I just agree to?

Chapter Five

Daydreamingabout my bakery has been one of my favorite pastimes ever since I was a young teenager. It also helped me through the sometimes grueling study sessions and exams involved with my business degree over the years, the degree I knew would be the most useful, albeit the most boring one. There is no doubt it’s saved me, though, especially during this last year.

Being able to stand in my very own bakery now—even if it’s still mostly naked and dirty—I can clearly imagine how it will look once it’s done, and it’s one of the best feelings. Just the thought of the glass cases filled with delicious-smelling pastries and cakes, and the front area buzzing with people eating my food, is so overwhelming sometimes I’m ready to explode from excitement.

“Charlie, where do you want me next?” Hudson’s voice sounds from behind me, making me jump.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sound of his rich voice—the deep timbre almost echoing across the room—as I spin around to face him. “Gosh, Hudson, can you please stop sneaking up on me like that?”

I slap his shoulder lightly, leaving a nice flour mark on his black T-shirt.

Good. Serves him right.

Today is our second day together at “work,” and I still have to get used to him being around. Thankfully, I barely saw him yesterday, since he was helping one of the contractors fix a few things outside the building while I hid in my office, hunched over a pile of papers to make sure everything’s going according to plan. I wonder if Hudson stayed away from me on purpose, giving me some time to get used to him. I’m almost certain he knows how easily some people get overwhelmed by his presence.

He grimaces, but the mischief is clearly displayed in the way his eyes sparkle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but you were so absorbed in your work. There could be a meteor coming your way, and you wouldn’t know it until it hit you.”

Well, he’s got me there. When I focus on something, it’s easy for me to zone out. “Very funny.”

I glare at him playfully and study him for a moment, taking him in, from his black T-shirt all the way to his dark gray jeans that are paired with black boots. His whole outfit is covered in dust, dirt, and a few specks of paint. He looks every bit the busy worker bee he’s been, and since I’m not blind—and my hormones practically demand it—I have to admit, he couldn’t look sexier.

Somehow, I have a feeling this man could be covered in mud and still wreak havoc with women’s baby-making machines. “You don’t have to do anything else today. Seriously. You’ve already done so much these last couple days, I feel bad enough as it is.”

Shaking his head with what looks like determination, he brushes his hands off on his thighs. “Don’t even mention it, it’s nothing. And just between the two of us, it actually feels good to be active and helpful like this. Don’t get me wrong, I love my music stuff, but it’s different. This is a nice change for me, and it feels good to put my hands to use.”

He looks genuine, and I’m surprised by his statement. He raises one eyebrow and tries to peek around me at the counter. “What are you still up to? Maybe I can helpyouwith something?”

“All that’s left is making some croissants for tomorrow and decorating a set of cupcakes once they’re cooled. Easy peasy. I’ll just see you back home later.”

He’s staring at me, shoulders pulled back and jaw set, not saying anything for a moment.

I’m not always the best at reading people, but Hudson seems to be an extra hard case for me. Is he waiting for something? One thing I do know is that holding eye contact with him for long periods of time feels weird. Normally, I wouldn’t think of myself as socially awkward—not more than average, at least—but I’m afraid I might start stress-sweating soon under his intense gaze.

I clear my throat, hoping to get rid of this awkwardness between us. “Unless you...you know—”

Before I can continue, he interrupts me, taking a small step toward me. Seems like he doesn’t take the term “personal space” too seriously.

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