Page 5 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
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“WE’LL SEE ABOUT THAT.” Maggie can squeeze her lips as tight as she pleases, but fuck, I’ll never forget how soft and supple they taste.
Damn it. I’m instantly hard.
The last year feels like a lifetime. A lifetime of thinking about Maggie Hill. Her hazel eyes. Her smile, so rarely cast my direction. A mouth I want to devour. She’s fucking gorgeous. Her curves, dips, and considerable breasts that fit perfectly in the palm of my large hand.
Yeah, I got it bad. Got it bad for the baker’s granddaughter.
But the fuelling angry glare she’s sends me suggests the feelings aren’t mutual.
Or are they?
Lust disguised as anger?
We’ve never been allowed to explore anything between us. Hell, we hadn’t even wanted to. Until last year. Until we ended up in the prize room banging.
“Are our two fabulous bakers ready for a bake-off?” I swear the ears on top of Faye’s Kentucky derby hat wiggle like they’re alive.
“Bake-off is right.” My granddad grunts. “I’ll have to hide my recipe.”
Betty snorts. The action doesn’t appear to suit her. Her feathered snowflake-colored hair and twinkling green eyes fool people into thinking she’s sweet as the cookies she bakes. But there’s another side to sweet Betty. A side it seems only my granddad can bring out.
“If you can remember where you put it, old man.” There’s her snarky tone.
“You calling me an old man?” My granddad straightens, and pushes back his shoulders.
He’s still strong as an ox. He’d planned to retire when I bought his ranch almost ten years ago. Instead, he moved into the guest house and still rises before the sun every morning. The only reason we were both able to attend this event is because my folks agreed to stay at the ranch. In return, I have to make sure he doesn’t have a blowout with Betty.
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” My granddad slides his glasses onto his nose. “Old woman.”
Betty gasps.
Wilma and Faye gasp.
I inwardly gasp. “Granddad, you promised to be on your best behaviour.”
“She started it.” He points a crooked finger at Betty.
“I’ll finish it, too.” Betty’s hands make a breaking motion like she’s snapping a twig.
I don’t care about their little feud. I’ve even been known to pop into Betty’s Bakeshop for a dessert here or there. A dessert my granddad happily gobbled down without realizing it had been baked by his enemy.
I step between the older couple. “Y’all agreed at the town hall meeting, there would be no hands-on.”
“Has there been hands-on before?” Maggie’s eyebrows draw together horrified.
Her sister doesn’t even budge, used to the back and forth between these two. I swear it’s increasing as they age.
“At the town meeting this old broad thought my body was a punching bag.”
Maggie’s head whips to face her grandmother. “You punched Mr. Gray?!”
“Not with my fists.” Betty flashes her hands. “These are essential for my business.”
Maggie closes her eyes as she rubs her temple for a short second. “Is this even going to work?” She looks between the two elderly folks. “Can you both put aside your differences to work together? To raise money for the kids? Their Christmas depends on the money raised to buy their toys.”
The anger slinks away from their faces.
