Page 3 of Hazel
I get my wallet out of my pocket and show her a picture of Mary-Anne. She takes it from me and looks down at the worn-out, crumpled picture.
“She’s beautiful,” she says, “she has your eyes.”
“Aye,” I say, taking the picture from her and looking her in the face “beautiful.”
My hand rests on the back of hers. Feeling her skin makes my dick harden. Precum trickles out my cock and makes my briefs soggy. I rub small circles on her wrist with my thumb.
Then, just as I’m leaning across the table to kiss her, her phone starts ringing.
She bolts up and picks up the phone from the counter. I can’t keep my eyes off her hips as they sway from side to side.
“I have to go,” she says once she’s hung up the call. “You okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah.” The first thing I’m gonna do is sneak out the back and jack-off. She has me so worked up I can barely concentrate. Then I’m gonna work my ass off fixing up her shop. Because, as far as I’m concerned, this princess is gonna get exactly what she wants.
3
Hazel
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and carefully balance my coffee in the crook of my arm. The sun’s only just starting to rise. Pinks and oranges smear across the pale blue sky. The air’s cold and I dance from foot to foot as I rummage through my bag trying to find the keys to the bakery.
A raccoon jumps out of a nearby dumpster, half scaring me to death. I find the keys and push open the heavy, metal door. Inside, it’s even colder. My nipples harden.
Putting my coffee down on the counter, I walk towards the light switches, but, before I get there, I hear a bang from the front of the store.
I stop mid-stride. Panic surges through me. The groggy, early morning feeling that was slowing me down just seconds before disappears.
Another bang comes from just past the door. Footsteps. The sound of a man grunting.
Could this week get any worse? First a water pipe bursts, and now a burglary.
Anger builds inside me. I know I should run straight for the door and never look back. The police are trained for this kind of thing, and I’m just a wannabe baker on a callosal losing streak. But I don’t want to sit out in my car biting my nails waiting for the local sheriff's deputy to turn up. I’ve had enough of being pushed around.
I tiptoe my way to the far side of the kitchen. There’s a cupboard full of cooking utensils. I wrap my fingers around the ice-cold metal handle. Pulling the door back, it feels like I’m moving in slow-mo. Every tiny sound I make amplified by my fear.
Nervously, I peek over my shoulder. I can still hear someone moving around in the store area, but I don’t rush myself. The last thing I want is to alert their attention to my presence.
Sweat runs down my face. My palms are clammy and wet. But, I get the door open without a sound and I pull out the largest rolling pin I can find.
It’s about two feet long. Solid wood. Perfect for whacking morons who think it was a good idea to break into my shop over the head with.
I creep back across the kitchen in a half-crouch. I hold the rolling pin with both hands. If the intruder suddenly comes into the kitchen I want to be ready. I’ve never been in any kind of physical altercation before, and the adrenaline is pumping through my veins. For the first time in ages, I feel empowered. Like I’m taking things into my own hands. Like I’m a badass motherfucker who’s not going to let anything get in her way.
“This is for you, mom,” I whisper.
Standing up, I leap through the door screaming. The man has his back to me. I charge towards him. The rolling pin raised above my head. But, just as I’m about to bring it down on his back, he turns to me and I freeze.
“Jesus,” Finn says, “what’re ya trying to do to me? Scare me to death?”
I lower the rolling pin. My fingers loosen and it drops to the floor with a bang.
“What are you doing here?” I straighten my back and try to hide my embarrassment. “It’s four in the morning!”
He looks at his watch sheepishly. When his sea-green eyes turn back towards me I melt like butter. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says, his thick, Irish brogue sending shivers straight to my core. “Thought I’d get a head start on the day.”
“I thought you were a burglar.”
“Aye,” he smiles and looks at the rolling pin on the floor. “I figured that might be why you were trying to hit me over the head with that.”
