by Lena Lucas
STUFFED (MISTLETOE, MONTANA)
A POSSESSIVE ALPHA HOLIDAY ROMANCE
LENA LUCAS
Stuffed (Mistletoe, Montana)
By Lena Lucas
www.lenalucas.com
[email protected]
Copyright © December 2020 by Lena Lucas
First E-book Publication: December 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
CONTENTS
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Books by Lena Lucas
About the Author
Beau
I’d wanted Wellsie Ander for as long as I’d lived in Mistletoe, Montana. And that was saying something since I'd lived here my whole life.
She was the only woman who ever made me want… more out of life. But I’d always kept my distance, too afraid of rejection if I bared my heart and soul. Because I knew if she wasn’t mine, there would never be anyone else for me.
But before I made her mine I’d wanted certain things. I wanted to be successful with my own home and a thriving business. I wanted those things so I had something to offer the woman I loved, the girl of my dreams.
And now was the time for me to stake my claim on her, and make Wellsie see that she’d been mine before she’d even known my name.
Wellsie
I knew Beau watched me constantly. I felt his eyes on me like a physical touch. And I wanted him, too, but of course I was a coward in making the first move.
I pined and wanted, fantasized and dreamed of being his. But I was tired of the fear that controlled me at the thought of him turning me down. So I told myself now was the time. I’d tell Beau that I was in love with him.
And when the perfect opportunity arose, I was taking it. So I scheduled a private baking class with him and knew there would be no going back.
I’d been prepared for rejection from him, maybe even a soft blow to my ego as I confessed, but what I didn’t expect was him to love me back.
What I didn’t expect was for Beau to tell me he’d been waiting for me his whole life.
Lena’s note: I know you like them fast and right to the point so don’t worry, this one gives you all the goods but with a healthy dose of romance (and holiday cheer) thrown in. A double virgins story to whet your appetite and burn up the pages! Enjoy this good old-fashioned safe smut-fest.
1
Wellsie
Pretending not to notice someone you had feelings for was like trying to pretend the sun wasn’t hot.
It was impossible.
But I thought I was doing good with the former... even if I was failing miserably.
Beau Hollis. The only man I’d ever wanted. The only person who I’d seen all those years ago and felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I didn’t even know why the attraction to him had been so insane or powerful, but it had stuck with me all these years later.
He was the only man who terrified me because he made my emotions so intense and real I couldn’t control them, and sure as hell didn’t understand them.
And that made me uncomfortable. I was a twenty-seven year old woman. I was successful as an accountant for Mistletoe Corporate Accounting. I owned my home, had a nice nest egg of savings, and wanted the whole two point five kids someday in the future.
I wanted that with Beau.
I guess the point was, even as a grown ass adult, where that man was concerned I felt like this budding teenager who was so inexperienced I didn’t know up from down.
Beau was a lifelong resident of Mistletoe, or so I’d learned over the years in my quest to find out more about the “strong but silent type man” who preferred to be alone, who was utterly kind to everyone, and who owned Beau’s Bakery right in the heart of town.
I’d first seen Beau several years ago despite having lived in Mistletoe longer than that. I saw him at the grand opening of his bakery, and ever since then he’s all I wanted.
It was crazy and irrational, a tipsy turbo whirlwind that made no sense if I really sat and thought about it. Which I did. More than once. I tried to figure out why I wanted him so completely; but after coming up empty handed with the whys and hows and what ifs, I just accepted that sometimes life put someone in your life that was meant to be there.
I wholeheartedly felt that Beau was that man for me.
And that scared the ever loving shit out of me.
For the last several years I’d pretended like I wasn’t completely in love with him. And wasn’t that the biggest lie of my life. Although I always felt his gaze on me when we were close, he never asked me out, had never been anything more than professionally polite to me. And it was because of that that I kept my mouth shut, and it made every part of me close up.
Because the worst thing I could do was admit to Beau how I felt and have him shut that door right in my face.
No thank you, ma’am.
I leaned back in my chair, my desk scattered with papers, numbers rolling around in my head, trying to get to the forefront. It didn’t work, of course. Beau seemed to be a constant in my brain.
I exhaled and tried to focus.
Working at Mistletoe Corporate Accounting wasn’t what most people strived to do with their life, well not anyone I’d ever met. In fact, they kind of curled their lip in disgust when they found out what I did for a living. But I was good with math, found it easy, simplistic almost, and I’d fallen into this position effortlessly. Not to mention I loved working for Harold Berlinger.
Harold was the owner of the firm, and had opened it twenty some years ago. At sixty-five years old, he acted more like a father figure than my boss. Then there was Margie Theo, Harold’s personal assistant and really the lifeline of the whole office. Without her organization and meticulous skills, I was pretty sure Harold and I would be up Shit Creek.
But thinking about work served to occupy my mind for all of five minutes, and then my thoughts were right back on Beau.
Those gorgeous, sexy, or maybe sleepy looking, amber colored eyes.
That hard, muscular body that towered over mine and had every female part of me coming alive.
That short dirty blond hair that looked like he’d been running his fingers through it in concentration.
I rubbed my eyes and exhaled slowly, thinking about my younger sister Blythe and the love she’d found with Logan. I was really glad she found somebody to make her happy, and I knew Logan did that for her tenfold and then some.
And it helped that Logan was a good guy. Such a good guy. I’d like to say that I helped match them up by having him play Santa at the yearly Meet and Greet at Morton’s Department Store. But that would be a lie. Fate, destiny, the stars perfectly aligning, whatever you wanted to call it, was what brought those two together.
And her happiness gave me happiness,
even if a little part of me was all shriveled up because my heart wasn’t completely full.
I looked out the window and watched as the people of Mistletoe, Montana, went about their daily activities. Being a Saturday morning there was quite a rush of people on the sidewalks, milling in and out of shops, stopping at the local cafes and grabbing something warm on the brisk December day.
With Christmas right around the corner, everyone seemed to be in a mad dash to finish their holiday shopping, or maybe just starting it. With the Santa Meet and Greet behind me, the event I organized the last few years, I’d thrown myself back into work.
But still, Beau was always on my mind. That big, lumbering and muscular man who invaded my thoughts and dreams. I felt like I was losing my mind where he was concerned.
He was the epitome of what I desired in the opposite sex. Well over six and a half feet tall, Beau screamed male in every way that made me wet and needy, and wanting things that seemed so out of reach.
I shook my head, shifted uncomfortably on the seat—thankful I was the only one stupid enough to come into the office during the weekend—and focused on the newspaper in front of me. The ad section was on clear display, the one particular space that I’d read over and over for the last few minutes.
I reached out and took the paper, staring at the print, reading it over and over and over. It was for private baking classes. At Beau’s Bakery.
Private Baking Classes with Beau Hollis at Beau’s Bakery
The Science of Baking
This course offers the why and how behind baking. Build a foundation base of knowledge to up your baking game.
Beginner Classes
Learn all the basics on how to create the perfect cream puff, make the softest brownies, or bake the most decadent cakes. Join Beau for a two hour introductory course on everything you’ll need to know how to jumpstart your new craft.
Advanced Classes
Contact Beau’s bakery for more information on advanced baking classes.
I FELT like it was a sign, that one thing that had finally pushed me in the direction to talk to Beau. As far as I knew he’d never offered private baking classes before, but maybe it was because of the holidays? Gifts for loved ones? Whatever the case, I was going to take the opportunity to do it. I wasn't the greatest cook, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually baked anything, but what’s the worst that could happen?
He sees how bad you are in the kitchen and is immediately turned off?
Eh, that fear wasn’t enough to stop me from making up my mind.
But my hand was slightly shaking from nerves, the newspaper crinkling slightly from the motion.
Do it. Just go down there. Set up a private lesson. Be in his element. Maybe it will make things easier?
Maybe it won’t.
I exhaled and leaned back in my chair and knew one thing for certain. If I didn’t at least try, what was the point? At least opening up my heart to him would give me the answer I so desperately sought.
And that was whether there was any kind of future for us.
2
Beau
I was making the batter for the gingerbread whoopie pies, a new recipe I was trying out, when I heard the bell at the front door chime with a new customer. I covered up the batter, cleaned off my hands, and made my way out to the front, but as soon as I stepped out of the back room every part of my body tightened.
Wellsie stood by the front case of the counter, her body bent as she took in the baked goods, pastries, and cakes that were lined up on the inside of the display case, the ones I’d just baked this morning before the sun had even risen. All the items I sold were fresh, made daily, and once I closed up shop for the day, whatever was left, I hand delivered to the local shelter. No way would I waste perfectly good food when someone else could enjoy it and get some nourishment from them.
I exhaled slowly, telling myself to get my shit together and not act like the very sight of her turned me into mush. I was thankful that Wellsie was occupied, because truthfully, I didn’t know if I could actually form a coherent word at the moment.
Here I was, thirty-six years old and feeling tongue-tied over a woman. But she wasn’t any woman. She was the woman that I was in love with, the one I’d seen from a distance all those years ago, when I knew she had to be mine. She’d struck a chord so deep in my heart that nobody else will ever be able to compare to her.
And no one had.
Ever.
I’d never been with a woman in the physical sense because I only wanted her. And I felt zero shame or embarrassment that I was a virgin at my age.
Wellsie was it for me, even if she didn’t know it.
She was the stars in the night sky, the vast ocean that surrounded everything. She was the sun that brightened up every single inch of my world.
I wasn’t a poet, and my analogies were such a far cry from how I really felt toward her, but if I were to put my emotions for Wellsie into words, that was as close as I could come.
She straightened, and pushed the fall of her long dark hair over her shoulder, bits of melting snow moving down her jacket, almost looking like crystallized pieces scattered about the white wool of her coat.
My heart was beating a mile a minute, as if the organ thought I’d just run a marathon and was trying to catch up. But this was my reaction every time I saw her, hell, every time I thought about her. It was so instantaneous that it was almost an out of body experience, something I couldn’t control any more than I could stop breathing.
“Hey,” I said in greeting, my voice thick and husky. I normally spoke in a baritone tenor tone, but in this moment that wasn’t the case for the rough sound. “Welcome.” My deep voice in that moment had everything to do with how Wellsie affected my body so completely that I had no control over anything when she was around.
She glanced up, those gorgeous blue eyes framed by long dark lashes caused my cock to instantly salute. Wellsie rose and smiled, her cheeks pink, her gaze darting away as she looked anywhere but at me.
It’s not like I didn’t know her on a more personal level. She certainly wasn’t a stranger to me. Hell, I’d been donating the baked goods for the Santa Meet and Greet for the last three years.
When she’d first asked me, there was no way I would have denied her, and not just because it was the right thing to do and the children would love the holiday themed cookies while meeting St. Nick.
I wouldn’t have been able to say no because I’d never be able to deny her.
Thankfully, she smiled and started the conversation, because I was pretty sure my voice box had malfunctioned with the very presence of her.
“I was wondering about those private baking classes you’re offering?”
I stayed behind the counter for obvious reasons—meaning I still sported a massive erection and I sure as fuck didn’t want her seeing it standing loud and proud. After clearing my throat and trying to get my brain to unscramble, I nodded and offered a smile in return.
“Yeah, just started them. Not sure if they’ll be a permanent fixture, but so far I’m hoping they are.” I cleared my throat, feeling sweat start to bead on my forehead because I was nervous as fuck. “What would you like to know about them?”
She started worrying her bottom lip and my eyes were riveted to the sight of her straight white teeth gently pulling at the plump, pink flesh of her bottom lip.
After a second she glanced up again and asked, “are they for, like… people who already know how to bake?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. The beginner class is very simple, with easy instructions so it’s more fun than anything else. I like to think I planned it that way anyway. I haven’t actually had the first class yet.”
She nodded and looked around again, and I was very aware she was so nervous around me, she tried to look anywhere but in my eyes.
“I’d like to book one.” She looked at me then. “For me.”
For a second, all I wanted to do was make sure I heard
her correctly, because I’d wanted her inquiry to be because she wanted the class for herself. I wanted Wellsie to be the one to take the class simply so I had a reason to be close, like close-close, to her.
I wanted the scent of her to mix and mingle with the sweet aromas of baking ingredients in the kitchen. Of course nothing would ever smell as good as she did.
I wanted to have her taste homemade whipped cream from my hand to make sure it was sweet enough. God, the very image of her sucking on my cream covered digit had my cock jerking and my hips rolling on their own.
Oh Fuck. My thoughts were heading right toward gutter-ville.
“If you have an opening, that is,” she said quickly, and I realized I hadn’t said anything after she told me she wanted one for herself.
This very low, maybe almost inaudible growl of approval left me. But I got my shit together, and tried to act like I was a professional and she was just another run of the mill customer.
Ha! Run of the mill? She’s the love of my fucking life.
She moved away from the display case and came over to the front counter, still biting on that deliciously plump bottom lip. My cock was like a lead pipe pressing against my jeans, and I was so damn thankful that the counter went up to my hips. But the pressure from the counter as my erection pressed against it nearly had me groaning as a sharp shot of pleasure slammed up my spine.
“But I can’t cook. Or bake for that matter.” Her cheeks turned even pinker, which only made her all the more beautiful in my eyes. “So fair warning, I have no idea what I’m doing in the kitchen, and the likelihood of me burning something is very high.” She laughed, and I had to force myself not to close my eyes at the sound.
God… her voice had me instantly calming, like this warmth spreading over me.
But I also noticed the sound was a little bit tense, her embarrassment clearly thick in her. I wanted to reach out and gently touch her chin, tip her head up so she was looking in my eyes again, and tell her she had nothing to worry about because I was here and would take care of her.