Page 18 of Between Love and Loathing
“It’s just the chocolate base. You can do that. I’m not making anything that special like your other chefs and bakers,” I encouraged, starting the comment as condescending, but I felt a sliver of doubt at the end. “I’m just …”
“You’re what, Clara?”
I couldn’t tell him I might have felt out of place, that I might not end up belonging.
I was here to fake it until I made it, right?
DOMINIC
There was a new word I was starting to associate with everything Clara Milton.
Addictive.
I saw how she navigated people at the welcome event, how people gravitated toward her, took her opinion into consideration.Ieven did when she tore down my resort design. She had a refreshing eye and was honest with it. And then she’d stood up for Paloma more than she ever stood up for herself. It reminded me of what art was and what it could be.
I wouldn’t dim that even if it meant giving into Paloma’s store name. I told Rita, too, and of course she’d been pissed, but I didn’t care. When Clara stood up for Paloma in a moment I’d been sure she’d stand down, that’s when her light became brilliant, became irresistibly exceptional, shining so much brighter than the others that I couldn’t look away.
I’d thought I’d fade off into the background at the party again, but instead, I caught her sneaking off.
She’d stepped up to the plate and fucking swung, too, when she paintedmywall.
Mine.I wanted that clear. Everything in this damn resort was mine, and she’d vandalized it. Altered it. Changed it to her needs.
It was bold and completely rebellious. And my cock wanted to punish her or praise her for it, I wasn’t sure which at this point. Something about Clara going against me and pushing boundaries when I knew she normally gave in to accommodate had me wanting more, craving more, needing more.
I’d fast become addicted to whatever she was serving. And that was dangerous. I didn’t indulge in vices anymore. Sugar and sex were both big ones.
Clara Milton deserved a pink backdrop to the bakery she’d always wanted. She deserved probably everything she’d asked for. Yet, you had to be cutthroat to be at the top, vicious in pursuit of your vision, and willing to leave bodies behind. I was more than willing because I’d learned the hard way to do so. I wanted her to be that way too.
“You’re what?” I asked again, harder this time. I wanted an answer. I wanted her to either fight or tell me she was something less.
I saw the desolation in her big green eyes and also the hunger; the hunger to be good enough, to fit in, to succeed. It reminded me of what I’d wanted so many years ago.
She’d gotten this bakery without working for it, and yet she still tried her hardest, had been on board to analyze every tiny design detail like me. I saw her effort and a part of me wanted her to fail so she understood that without failure, you couldn’t truly reach success. She’d potentially fail over and over again with this bakery, but she only had to get up and keep trying.
She had to learn to fight.
I glanced down at the chocolate and saw it was clumping together. “Shit.”
“Want to start again?” She sniffed the air. “If you don’t temper it, you’ll never get it right.”
My jaw ticked. I hated failure even if it was small. “Show me the recipe.”
Her mouth opened, the rosy color of her lips plumping out into a pout as she shut it again like she was speechless. “I’m not … It’s too late to teach you a recipe right now. Are you serious?”
“I want to learn it. Right. Now.”
“Maybe another day, Mr. Hardy.” She rolled her big pretty eyes as she said my last name that I’d put between us as a boundary. Now, though, it was just acting as another magnet. I enjoyed how she tried to goad me. “We should get back to the party.”
True, except I wasn’t going anywhere now. “No.” I shook my head slowly, my voice low, “Show me.”
As she bit her lip, I knew she was considering it.
I pointed to the saucepan in front of me. “Come right here, little fighter. Let’s see if you have it in you to do again.”
There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation when I challenged her like that. “Fine.” She walked right up to the counter, shouldered me in my chest, and got to work. She handed me the saucepan and pointed to the sink where I dropped it, keeping my eyes on her. “That’s all wasted so we’re starting over.”
She reached high above her, and I watched her stretch, noting that she was probably going to need a stool to reach all the way up in her own cabinets. Having her body against me, smelling the chocolate mixed with the flowery scent of her hair had my cock twitching.
