Page 70 of Sugarlips
“For now, I put a cap on it… 50DumpedDelivery boxes can be ordered per day. We can see how that is to manage and always increase how many we allow a day. Plus, selling out online will look good. Create demand.” Her grin was proud and she stood taller as we walked.
“You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
“Oh, I know.” She beamed.
I lowered my mouth to her ear and whispered, “And you’re not a mess. Stop telling yourself that lie.” My lips brushed against the soft skin of her earlobe, sending a spike of arousal curling down my spine.
She stumbled a little over her feet, but I was there to catch her and tightened my grip around her to help steady her. “Iama mess! Case in point—I can’t even walk straight.”
I stopped walking, forcing her halt mid-step as well and turn to face me. Cradling her jaw, I pulled her close, her pupils dilating against the icy blue of her eyes. “You’re not a mess.” I looked directly into the soft depths of her eyes and spoke as seriously as I could. She needed to not just hear me, but really, truly listen. “No more than any of the rest of us. You’re not Tasmanian Chloe. You’re not chaos. You’re smart and free-spirited and you take risks when the rest of us play it safe. You’re kind and loving and fierce. I’m not best friends with messy people. And Idefinitelydon’t fall in love with them.”
A tear slid down the bridge of her nose and before she could object, I captured her lips with an urgent and fevered press of my mouth to hers. A growl vibrated beneath my ribs and sent a buzz through me that landed at my cock. “Liam,” she whispered as I released her mouth.
I pressed my finger to her lips to hush her. “I know, I know. You need time.”
She shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I need anymore.”
My heart skipped. Another brick from the wall had broken. Slowly, I was chipping away at her shields and for the first time since the hospital, I felt a kick of hope in my heart.
“Right now? All we need to do is prep the truck.” I released her and offered my hand. She hesitantly took it and we resumed walking.
Baby steps.
28
Chloe
It took me several minutes to realize that the knocking at my front door was not, in fact, me killing it in a drum solo within my dream—where I was a rock star on stage with thousands of adoring fans.
My eyes blinked open, still bleary, and I reached for my phone. 7:53 a.m.
What the fuck. It was myonemorning off for the week. The one morning where I could get a full eight hours, or more, of glorious, uninterrupted sleep.
Grumpy, I pushed off the bed and stomped down the stairs.
I swung the door open without looking out the peephole—and immediately, my anger dissipated. Liam stood on my front stoop… and he was covered in buttercream.
“Uh…” I had no words and instead I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “What’s going on?”
Liam, however, was decidedlynotlaughing. If this had been a cartoon, his face would have been an inhuman shade of scarlet and steam would have been coming out his ears. “They kicked me out!” A bit of the buttercream melted under the heat of the morning sun, sliding down the curve of his neck onto his shoulder, saturating his white t-shirt. “They kicked me out of myownfucking bakery.” He didn’t wait for me to invite him inside. Clomping down the hall, a bit of frosting slid off his earlobe and landed with a splat on the floor of my foyer.
“What are you talking abou—”Oh. Right. This was Liam’s first full day off—and Jeremy, the new manager, was doing all of the baking with Finn at Beefcakes today. For the first day ever. I should have known that Liam wouldn’t have been able to relax, but couldn’t help asking, “What were you doing over there on your morning off?”
He yanked a few paper towel squares off from the rack in my kitchen and started wiping down his neck. I watched, hungrily. Frosting… and sugar… on Liam. There were just way too many delicious things about the sight in front of me.Focus, Chloe.
“I thought three sets of hands would be better than two.”
I snorted. “Ever heard the expression ‘too many cooks in the kitchen?’ It exists for a reason.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “ButI’mthe cook! It’smykitchen.”
I sighed and crossed the kitchen to start the coffee. “So, what’d you do to end up looking like a dessert yourself?” I asked as I filled the coffee pot with water.
“What’dIdo? Nothing! I was simply showing him that the frosting does best when it sits on the top shelf in the fridge rather than the bottom. And as I was reaching for it, he knocked me over and the whole damn bowl poured over my head.”
“Uh-huh.” I was pretty sure there was a lot more to that story. “So, Jeremy kicked you out of your own kitchen?”
“No. And he prefers Remy, by the way.” he grumbled. “Finny kicked me out.”
