Page 85 of Whisking It All

Jamie’s arms closed around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her head, and she broke off mid-sentence, melting back into his solid form behind her.

“Breathe, baby,” he said, his voice level and calm and somehow still deep and sexy enough to do all sorts of inconvenient things to her when she needed to find something to wear on TV. “I’m sure whatever you packed will be fine.”

Tessa sighed, pushing another hanger out of the way half-heartedly. “Kyla came by after work and helped me pick out three options.”

“What’s wrong with those options?”

“Nothing. But what if they’re not the right options? What if my perfect television-debut outfit is still in this closet?”

“It’s not.” His lips brushed her hair and she softened against him even further. “And it’s just a local morning show.”

“According to Gavin they’re the biggest morning news show in New England. That’s not just anything,” she argued, but she let herself lean back against him and wrapped her arms around his to pull them tighter around her waist.

He nuzzled into her hair. “They are going to love you no matter what you wear.” She sighed and turned in his arms to meet his lips in a quiet kiss. “Now can we stop tearing apart your closet and get on the road? You’ll be beautiful in anything. I do like this skirt, though. Did you dress up just for me?” he asked. His hands dropped to squeeze her ass through the stretchy fabric of her pencil skirt, as if to punctuate his point.

“You wouldn’t tell me where we were going for dinner. I wanted to be prepared for any dress code.”

He hummed in approval, the calluses on his palms snagging on the fabric as he ran his hands appreciatively over her backside. She loved how much he loved her curves. He pulled her against him, and she could feel the beginnings of his erection pressed against her belly.

She laughed. “I thought we had to get on the road?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, stepping away. But that hungry look lingered in his eyes as he snagged her bag from the edge of her bed, holding out his other hand for her to take.

As they stepped out onto the porch, he dropped her hand, walking ahead to put her bag in the car while she locked up. In less than two hours they’d be in an entirely different city, where she could hold his hand outside of the four walls of her father’s house or Jamie’s cottage, where she could kiss him on the street if she wanted without worrying that someone’s nephew’s cousin twice removed would see and report back to her father.

He held the car door open for her and she hesitated for a fraction of a second, wondering just how bad it would be to rise up on her toes and kiss him anyway. What were the odds that someone would see them?

And would it be so bad if they did?

Jamie grinned, the edges of his eyes crinkling and that dimple in his left cheek popping out. “Whatever you’re thinking about, yes, please,” he said.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about,” she teased, taking a step closer to him. Too close to just be friendly. Closer than she should stand next to him in her father’s driveway.

His eyes sparkled. “I know I’m going to like it.” His pinky stroked the side of her hand, a single point of contact that made her heart pound and heat rush between her legs. “Anytime you’re thinking dirty thoughts, you get this look on your face...” He huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “It’s fucking adorable.” She shuffled a half step closer, her breasts brushing his chest. A low rumble sounded in the back of his throat. “Get in the car, Tess.”

She slid down into the passenger seat of his car, never taking her eyes off him. He leaned towards her as though he might kiss her, then seemed to remember where they were and closed the door behind her instead. She swallowed down the disappointment.

Stupid. You know he can’t kiss you here, she thought. Still, she couldn’t help the pang of longing to have him claim her, to kiss her and touch her and not care if her father found out, even if she knew that was asking too much.

They pulled out of her father’s driveway in silence, winding through the streets of Aster Bay. As they passed the town common, they waved at Natalia, out walking her dogs, the black labs chasing leaves as they fluttered to the ground. At the light at the top of the hill, Ricky DaSilva drove by in his pickup, the back loaded down with crates of produce, honking and waving in greeting as he passed.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Tessa said, pulling her notebook out of her purse. She flipped past pages of notes, past the sketches she’d drawn of the view from the roof of Lemon and Thyme, of the list of her favorite farmer’s market finds. On a clean sheet, she began jotting down notes.

“What’s that?” Jamie asked, glancing over.

“I told Ricky I’d make the cake for the baby’s christening. This morning, while I was in the shower, I had an idea,” she said, her pen moving faster over the page. “What if, instead of a regular layer cake, it’s a vertical layer cake made from a cardamom banana cake—because Cheryl loves Grama’s banana bread so much—and a caramel cream cheese frosting, because—”

“Ricky will eat anything with caramel,” Jamie said, nodding.

“Exactly,” she grinned. “I just wanted to write it down before I forgot.” She glanced at him, the crinkles around his eyes and his dimples on full display as he suppressed a smile of his own. “What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s perfect for them. They’re going to love it.”

At every stop sign, someone else passed by outside—Carla getting into her car at the diner after a long shift, Mrs. Blumenthal trimming the bushes in front of her house, Norm in his banana-yellow convertible shivering against the chill in the air. At the edge of town, they passed the goat farm and Tessa jotted a note in her notebook to stop by when they got back to town to bring Michelle her latest goat cheese ice cream creation.

She realized suddenly that she knew the names of every person that had waved at Jamie’s car, that they all knew her. She had stories about these people now—the day she’d met with Norm about the festival’s contract with The Barclay and he’d tried to play hardball while also reminiscing about playing capture the flag with her parents as kids; the time Ricky had shown up at Sugar Grapes with an unexpected delivery of quince because she’d mentioned in passing wanting to experiment with them; or the time Natalia had covered the register at the bakery when Tessa was short staffed so she could run to the bathroom. She knew their favorite cupcakes and their allergies, who was off gluten and who needed a cup of tea with their donut. But she also knew that Ricky had been practicing his swaddling on squashes, that Mrs. Blumenthal video chatted with her grandchildren every Saturday morning, that Pastor Davis secretly checked the football scores on his phone during the hymns.

Somehow she’d collected all these people the same way she’d accumulated all that clothing, and she couldn’t help but feel like they’d collected her as well.

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