Page 13 of Baking With A Rockstar

“Unless I what, Charlie?” He says my name in a way that makes my whole body shiver, and I’m almost positive he did that on purpose.

I wave my hand around nonchalantly. “Oh, you know, cash in your muse payment for the day.”

Hudson throws his head back and laughs loudly. “You sound so happy about our arrangement.”

“It’s not that. But you’ve helped me for two days already without getting anything in return. That wasn’t part of the deal, and I’m starting to feel guilty about it. I don’t want to be in your debt." I swallow repeatedly, always feeling uneasy with any form of confrontation.

His laugh vanishes as quickly as it appeared, now firmly replaced by a big frown. “You know, if it really makes you so uncomfortable, you don’t have to do it. I’m not going to force you to spend time with me if you don’t want to. Just say the words. I wasn’t thinking things through the other day, and maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it. Or pushed it, for that matter.” His shoulders slump a little before he breaks eye contact.

“No! It’s really not a problem.” Now it’s my turn to frown. “I’m just a bit nervous I guess, because I still have no idea what to expect from these sessions. I don’t do well with the unknown. I like to know what to expect, so tell me, and I’ll feel better about it. Do you need us to sit down, or is it enough if we’re just in the same room? I’m not sure what the exact rules are—not that I know what you need me for anyway.”

“No rules, Charlie.” He stares at me with an expression I can’t decipher, almost like his words are supposed to have a deeper meaning. I’m not sure if they do, but my insides definitely feel like they got the memo, turning all soft and squishy.

“Well, okay then. If you just want to hang out, you can sit down on the stool over here while I finish up?” The words rush out of my mouth in rapid-fire, making me sound as nervous as I feel. To make it worse, I pat the silver metal stool next to me, like he isn’t capable of figuring out which one I’m talking about—especially since there’s a total of, well, one stool in the room.

Just shoot me now.

He sits down at the edge of it, his long legs outstretched in front of him with his feet crossed at the ankles. Relaxed, carefree. It might seem odd, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had someone this laid-back in my life. The confidence mixed with a slight level of cockiness makes for an interesting combination that might just be the tiniest bit intriguing to me. Throw in the smell of his delicious cologne, that practically surrounds me like a little cloud, and my hormones are ready to party.

Not even half a minute later, he starts squirming around. “Are yousurethere isn’t anything I can do? I’d love to help.”

Since we’re pretty much at eye level right now, I only have to turn my head to the side to look him straight in the eye. Like I knew it would, his gaze catches mine immediately, holding it prisoner for a long moment before I give in and nod. “All right. Go wash your hands. I’ll show you what to do.”

Let’s bake with the rockstar. No biggie at all.

Yeah, right.

Not only does he wash his hands, but he also grabs a black apron from the hook behind the door. He looks adorable in his little get-up when he stands beside me again, an eager expression on his face.

“I’ll show you how to make the croissants, okay?” Since the dough needs to rest for several hours beforehand, I prepared it this morning. All that’s left to do is the easy part of the process. His eyes are focused on my hands as I explain how to roll out the dough and cut it with a dough cutter.

“Why are we doing rectangle shapes? I thought croissants are triangles.” He looks genuinely confused when I look up at him.

No one’s ever asked me that before, and I can’t hold back the big grin. “Well, there’s a really easy explanation for that. The rectangle ones hold more chocolate than the triangles.”

Hudson stares at me like I just told him the secret of life before he starts laughing. “Oh, Charlie, I like the way you’re thinking. More chocolate. Gotcha. Rectangles, it is.”

With matching grins on our faces, I show him how to slice the baking chocolate before placing it on the dough and rolling it all up. “There, a little sleeping bag for the chocolate.” When I look up at him, Hudson blinks at me, his head tilted to the side. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel self-conscious, and I absentmindedly brush at my face. “What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

Without saying a word, Hudson’s hand stretches toward my face, and my heart starts beating erratically.He’s going to touch me, and I’m pretty sure I’m only one step away from hyperventilating. Just the thought alone sends my body into a frenzy. It’s like everything’s suddenly on high-alert—my skin feels hypersensitive, awaiting the unexpected touch to happen while there’s a rolling feeling in my stomach. My lips are dry but I refrain from licking them when Hudson is in such close proximity.

When his fingers touch my cheek, I can’t keep my eyes from fluttering closed. He lingers there for a few seconds, and I don’t dare open my eyes, too afraid of what I might or might not see in his.

“There. Just a little flour.” One more brush of his thumb across my cheek and jaw, and then his hand is gone.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course. Thanks.” The words come out in such a mumbled mess, I’m not sure he understood me.

Thankfully, he shifts his body, focusing on the task in front of him. “Could you show me one more time?”

Without questioning it—as well as thankful for the distraction—I go through all the steps one more time. Then his hands are next to mine, mimicking my movements alongside me, innocently brushing my fingers. The room suddenly feels too hot, and my knees feel weak. The hair on my arms has risen, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.

Before my nerve endings go into complete overdrive—or worse, I suffer a cardiac arrest—I decide to go back to my cupcakes, a.k.a. my new safe zone. Despite having several feet between us, it doesn’t feel like my body is ready to calm down yet.

I need a better distraction.

“What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened at one of your concerts?” For some reason, this question has been swirling around in my head, so why not use the chance and ask?

My eyes flicker back and forth between Hudson and the cupcakes, unable to look at him for more than half a second. At least the cupcakes are ready for me to decorate now.

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