Page 44 of Cream and Punishment
“Quincy will be here soon, so you’re free to go,” I blurted. “Go enjoy the rest of your Saturday. I can manage for the next few minutes.”
Max arched an eyebrow but untied his apron.
Sweet mangos and salsa, if there was anything hotter than Max Fuentes in an apron, it was Max Fuentes takingoffan apron. Wowee zowee. His deft fingers sent the ties flying with a single flick. Smooth and effortless. Which I maybe could’ve handled witnessing without fantasizing about what else his hands could undo so easily, had he not looked me directly in the eye when he did it. And then maintained eye contact the entire time he pulled the apron up, up, up and over his head. Slowly.
Tooslowly.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
His grin widened as a devilish gleam shone in his dark eyes. “Doingwhaton purpose?”
I squinted harder until his smug, smokin’ hot mug all but disappeared behind the wispy screen of my eyelashes. I wasn’t going to elaborate out loud for fear I’d misinterpreted things—and he knew it. The scoundrel. Besides, what would I even say?You’re deliberately giving me a strip tease with an apron while fully clothed?
Yeah, no. Normal people didn’t drool over someone de-aproning. Probably. Technically, I didn’t know, since this sort of thing had never come up in casual conversation, but it felt like an educated guess.
I whirled around with as much dignity as possible, which consisted of a lot of hopping and gripping tabletops for dear life. But whatever.
His laughter followed me, warming my insides like someone had poured hot cocoa into my bloodstream. So far, he didn’t seem to mind my topic-hopping or impulsivity or all the things that frustrated so many people. I wasn’t sure when his amusement would wear off, but I’d enjoy it while it lasted.
He headed for the door but hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Not that I was watching, mind you. His shoulders moved with a deep inhale before he looked over at me. “You’re really good at this, you know.”
I blinked. “Good at what?”
“Baking.” He gestured to encompass the entire building. “But more than that. You’re good atrunninga bakery. Finding creative solutions and working hard to see them through. When you’re here you’re… different.”
My breath caught in my throat. By now, I was certain he didn’t know I’d had a bakery, let alone what had happened to send me here with my tail between my legs. But the reminder of the catastrophe made me ready to bolt regardless.
Not like I’d get anywhere in my condition, but still.
“Different how?” I asked, unsure I wanted to hear the answer.
He shrugged. “More at ease, I guess. Sure of yourself.”
I smiled sadly. Iusedto be sure, anyway. I didn’t doubt my baking abilities, but everything else? It felt like there were a million ways I could’ve handled things better while running things hereandin Pittsburgh, if only I’d figure them out.
“They agree, too, you know.” He nodded toward the doors leading to the front of house. “They respect you. And I think they’re also wondering what in the world you’re doing here working for someone else.”
My smile fell. If everyone knew what had happened—how badly I’d failed—would they still think the same? It was better this way. For everyone.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I know it’s a sensitive topic for some reason but figured you should know. And, hey, you managed to keep me from burning anything too badly, so that’s proof in and of itself.”
His smile returned, playfulness peeking through in his dimples and the curve of his lips. Max smiled readily, but that didn’t decrease the value. Each of his smiles told a story—one I wanted to devour in every sense of the word.
He knocked twice on the door as he opened it, casting me one last look over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
I chuckled and returned our signature knock using the prep table I leaned on. “I hope not, for your sake.”
And mine.
If one day with him without thinking we were enemies had such an effect on me, I feared how quickly Max would become a delicacy I couldn’t get enough of.
sixteen
TheamountoftimeI spend staring at my phone before sending a risky text could set a world record. Especially when the person I’d be texting was Max, whom I hadn’t seen much of for the past few days.
Good goose gizzards, I was going through withdrawals already.
Of all the people who might have shown up to help in the wee hours of the morning for my final day running the bakery in Gale’s absence, the last person I expected was my own sister. Lex had been a much grouchier helper than Max, since mornings and her were perpetual enemies. Almost as much as her and kitchen appliances were, which was another reason I’d never in a million years expect her to take Max’s place of her own volition.
