Page 67 of Whisking It All

Jamie laughed. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me. Every Thanksgiving your grandmother used to bake all these pies and Ethan always tried to help. But I’m sure you can imagine how ‘helpful’ he was. I’ll never forget the year he insisted on making the sweet potato pie by himself.” He shook his head. “He couldn’t have offered to make the apple. He had to pick my favorite to mess with.”

“Sweet potato pie is your favorite?” she asked, that fizzy feeling that had been bubbling up inside her chest intensifying.

“Your grandmother’s sweet potato pie. No one makes it like her.” He opened the door to his office, flipping on the lamp on his desk and sinking into his desk chair. “This will only take a minute.”

“Take your time.”

Tessa leaned against the doorframe, watching the concentration settle on his face as he clicked through his laptop in search of the recipe her father had requested. A deep furrow formed between his eyes and she had the strongest urge to drag her thumb over the spot, to smooth the creases from his skin.

“Thanks for giving me a ride home,” she said. “Brodie was driving home with Kyla and I didn’t really feel like being the third wheel to that.” And I think we need to talk.

“It’s no trouble,” he said as he continued clicking through folders on his computer.

Just the idea of testing her new theory had her skin tingling in anticipation. Until that night, she’d chalked it up to wishful thinking, but sitting across from him at trivia—where they’d swept the Brilliant British Bakes category, thank you very much—she’d begun to wonder. What if it wasn’t wishful thinking? What if it wasn’t just a coincidence? The fact that Brodie and Kyla had been on the verge of a massive fight was the perfect excuse to ask Jamie for a ride and get some time alone with him. By the end of the night, she’d know for sure—was Jamie DDB?

Tessa looked away, gesturing over her shoulder. “Do you mind if I go up to the roof?”

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll let you know as soon as I send this recipe off to your dad and then we can be on our way.”

Tessa turned and made her way up the stairs and out onto the rooftop terrace. The bay shimmered in the moonlight, the October breeze off the water fanning her hair out around her shoulders. Across the water, porch lights winked in the dark.

With shaking hands, she raised her phone and snapped a selfie, the view of the harbor behind a clear image of her face. If she was right, this picture would change everything. And if she was wrong…

She knew she wasn’t wrong.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent it to DDB. She watched as the message status changed to ‘read,’ then blew out a breath and tucked her phone in her back pocket while she waited for his reply.

She didn’t have to wait long.

The door to the roof slammed open. Jamie stood in the doorway, his phone clutched in his hand with the photo she’d sent still illuminated on the screen. His chest heaved as though he’d taken the stairs two at a time. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she thought she might cry from the relief.

It was him. All this time.

How many times had she pictured Jamie’s face while messaging DDB, or recognized something of DDB in Jamie’s words? How many times had she wished they were the same person?

He stalked across the roof towards her, his path lit only by the stars and the moon’s reflection off the water. He didn’t stop coming for her until they were so close she had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. His gaze darted around her face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his gaze softened.

“It’s really you,” she whispered.

He ate the words from her lips, crushing her against him with a hand around her waist, his other buried in her hair and tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss. She clung to him, grasping handfuls of his hair, his shirt, pulled onto her tiptoes by the force of his hold on her. He dragged his lips over her jaw to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear.

“I wanted it to be you,” he said against her skin, his voice rough and jagged.

She caught his face in her hands and kissed him again, deeper, tasting the words on his lips, reveling in the way those words set fireworks off within her chest. When he licked across her bottom lip, she opened to him, lost to the way his tongue stroked hers, the lush heat of his kiss.

“I wanted it to be you, too,” she said.

He lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked her back against the wall behind her, pinning her with the press of his hips. She dropped back against the wall, her feet falling to the ground so his hands were free to roam her body again as his mouth explored the length of her throat.

“Impossible woman,” he grumbled, dragging his teeth along her collarbone.

“Don’t forget brilliant,” she chuckled, her laugh breaking off on a moan as he pressed a powerful thigh between her legs.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he said, encouraging her to grind against his thigh with a firm hand on her hips. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin in between hot, sucking kisses. “Not the way you feel, or the way you taste. Not a goddamn thing.”

She pulled his head back with a fist in his hair so he had to stop kissing her. She stared into his eyes, panting as they caught their breath. “Take me home,” she said, her voice shaky.

He dropped his hands and stepped away, out of her reach, as though her words had been a lash to his skin. Frustration and hurt warred in his face. He looked away from her and swallowed hard. “If that’s what you want.”

---