Page 65 of Cream and Punishment
“Fair point.”
And just like that, the constricting embarrassment that followed me everywhere loosened its hold. Its heat receded until I could breathe without inhaling ashes. Max had that effect often. His happy-go-lucky demeanor brushed out the tangled knot I made out of everything like it was nothing. I don’t think he even knew he did it. Simply by being himself, he parted the fog I saw myself through until I glimpsed the person my friends thought I was. The person I might actually be.
He didn’t find my awkwardness painful. He didn’t mind the zoning out or the random questions, just like my friends didn’t. They rolled with the punches, and they hadn’t left yet. They could easily avoid me, but they didn’t.
Maybe I wasn’t so unlovable after all.
Max sat beside me, his warmth leaping across the few inches separating us. He’d sat as far from me as he could in the space we had, but I tried not to dwell on that tidbit. The fact remained that he’d chosen to sit by me in the first place.
Today was about small wins.
“What are you watching?”
“Only the greatest contribution to television this century has ever seen.” I angled my phone screen so he could see the competitive baking show and dug out my other earbud from my pocket. “Want to join me?”
“With a glowing recommendation like that, how can I refuse?” He accepted the earbud and popped it in. Never before had I wished for corded earbuds to share instead of Bluetooth ones, but it was probably for the best that we wouldn’t be forced shoulder to shoulder. My traitor brain might start daydreaming about kissing him again.
Not that it was a frequent fantasy of mine or anything, but… yeah. It was.
I dedicated an unholy amount of energy to keeping my breathing level when his faint, but familiar scent reached my nose.Sweet mercy and sour cream, how was this fair? His cologne mixed well with everything, but especially the laundry detergent in the air. Meanwhile, my perfume ghosted me five seconds after I applied it.
“In that case,” I said, managing tonotsound like I wanted to snort him like permanent markers, “we should start withthisone.” I navigated through my streaming app to find my favorite show. “This one’s entertaining no matter your baking prowess. Amateur bakers compete to see who can replicate a professional creation the best before the time limit’s up.”
“Now that sounds like one I might actually qualify for.”
I laughed and playfully bumped his shoulder with mine. Though, let the record show, I retreated into my own space no matter how desperately I wanted to snuggle against him instead. I was the epitome of self-control today. Gold star for me. “Based on how you did helping me when my ankle bit the dust, I think you’d win, easy breezy lemon squeezy.”
“I think all the credit goes to you on that.” He smiled softly and waited until I met his eyes. “You’re a patient teacher and a good boss, Dekker. I would’ve been less than helpful if it were anyone else directing me.”
I shook my head. “You gotta give yourself more credit, Max—”
“And so do you.” He held eye contact, his expression grim and dark eyes stormy.
I sighed heavily and set my phone on the floor between us. Max followed my cue, removing his earbud and angling to face me better. Our legs touched this way, his bronze skin peppered with dark hair under his gym shorts while my running shorts-clad legs were alarmingly pale.
I hadn’t told anyone about Besserman and the article that had cut me down to ribbons. No one. Not even Lex. The shame still felt too heavy, the pain too raw. But I needed to let it out to someone somehow sometime. I’d cried over it enough by now—I neededcatharsis. And Max was safe. Above all else—the devilish good looks, thoughtfulness, kindness, and all the things that made me fall for him a little more each day—he wassafe.
I took my own earbud out and nervously rolled it between my fingers. “You know how running a bakery is a bit of a sore subject for me? Well, that’s because I…didhave my own bakery.”
His eyebrows rose marginally, and he nodded, the only indication of surprise as he waited for me to go on.
“Back in Pittsburgh, I owned and operated Double Dekker Cakery for four years. It was my baby, I guess. My dream.”
When I didn’t continue, he asked, “What happened?”
I gritted my teeth, the memories bitter and biting behind my eyes. “Richard Besserman happened.” I took a calming breath, willing myself to keep my composure. Besserman wasn’t here. I was safe from him and his cutting words. “He was an employee of mine at the time. He had good business sense, but his baking skills weren’t where they needed to be if he was going to have his own bakery like he wanted.”
Max hummed in acknowledgement, his brow furrowed.
“The bakery was doing pretty well for itself. Business was steady, we were in the black, and we’d even made it in the top ten list for best bakeries in Pittsburgh two years in a row.”
It had been a source of pride for me, proof that the impulsive fledgling could spread her wings and fly. And then the fledgling made too many mistakes, flew too close to the sun, and went down in flames.
I smoothed a hand over my hair, wishing it wasn’t in a bun so I could give it a good tug. Experiencing this the first time was painful enough. Explaining it and my culpability—mystupidity—in all of it was so much worse. But the only way out was through.
“Richard asked me out about once a week for months, and I always declined because I was his boss, you know?” And then there was the fact that I was more attracted to a bottle of hot sauce than I was to him, but that was probably irrelevant. “Finally, I gave in. Just one date, right?”
Ha! If only it had been that easy. But no.
