Page 32 of All Mine

Maybe I should pay him after all? He’d bought lunch, and the women who’d enjoyed looking at him had crammed the tip jar full on his side of the counter.

I fished my sandwich from the bag and went to let Camden know that our food arrived. Unwrapping the corner and taking a bite of the sandwich, I pushed the swinging door and peered in. And a dusting of white powder glazed a section of counter, cabinets, floor, wall, and ceiling. There was flour everywhere. Camden turned towards the door, and flour coated his chest and face. His eyes were closed against the onslaught of white powder covering him. A light puff of white, powdery air lingered around him.

The small bite of food lodged into my throat, and I choked out a laugh, dislodging the piece. I re-wrapped the sandwich and put it on the counter.

“Are you eating?” he asked.

Laughter shook my body. “You’re covered in flour, and that’s your biggest concern?”

“I’m hungry,” he replied, eyes still closed.

“Did you have some trouble with the mixer?”

“No.” He took one step in my direction.

“Stop,” I said, not wanting him to track the mess across the kitchen. “Don’t move. I’ll get a rag.”

I retrieved a rag and wet it down. “Hold still,” I directed while swiping the powder away from Camden’s eyes with the wet cloth. My free hand landing on his chest. His heart thudded under my palm through his t-shirt and the cotton-poly blend apron.

Camden’s eyes fluttered open and fixed me in the stare of his dark brown eyes.

“Are you okay?” I tried to contain my laughter.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Everything’s going well.”

“Really? Cause the powdered donut look and my floured kitchen say otherwise.”

“It’s all under control.” He took a step toward me.

“None of this looks like control.” I laughed, waving a hand over his general appearance, and took a step back.

“Where are you going? Don’t you like the powdered donut aesthetic?” He took in the sight of his chest.

“I try to avoid wearing the ingredients.” I moved to the opposite side of the island.

A devilish grin crossed his face, and he came toward me, sending me into retreat again.

“No, Cam. We gotta get this cleaned up. You need to go out back and beat yourself off.”

He laughed. “I’m not doing that covered in flour. That’s probably somebody’s kink but not mine.”

The meaning of what I’d said dawned on me. I rolled my eyes to make sure he understood the ridiculousness of this conversation. “I meant to knock the flour off your hair and apron.”

“For the moment, this is more fun,” Camden said, coming toward me again.

I’d circled the island and now stood in the flour-covered area. I wanted to glance into the mixing bowl and assess the situation, but taking my eyes off him seemed dangerous.

“What are you doing?” The words came out in a squeal as Camden quickly shifted direction and caught me head on. His arms closed around me, pulling me to his hard chest. A flour cloud exploded between us, causing me to cough.

I struggled against his arms, but he pulled me against him again, sending more flour into the air and over the front of me. Squeals of laughter escaped. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed that much. The memory of the last time I’d had a man’s muscular biceps wrapped around me, pulling me tight, was a distant fog. Perhaps a man had held me before, but not like this.

My arms no longer pushed against him, but my traitorous hands slid over the thick fabric of the apron on his chest. Then the mutiny continued up to the T-shirt and the muscular build of his shoulders underneath my fingertips. I didn’t look up at his eyes. I couldn’t. Camden stilled against me, both of us breathing a bit too hard. He dropped his forehead to the top of my head. And there we stood, in the flour filled air of the kitchen, gripping each other for dear life. My heart pounded against my rib cage.

Time and all responsibilities of the bakery vanished. There we stood, breathing the same air mouths fractions apart, suspended in the moment. And fighting with him was the last thing on my mind. No, my long-ignored libido had woken from her hibernation with a vengeance.

“Lauren,” Sloane’s voice cut through the moment, and my libido ran away. “What on earth is going on in here?”

I pushed out of Camden’s arms, and thankfully he let me go. The expression on Sloane’s face said she knew what was going on. Next to Sloane stood a grinning Eden.

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