by Amy Daws
He hits me with a look that says, stop feeling sorry for yourself. “It’s not that I can’t find a date. They just don’t like the kind of women they’ve been seeing me with lately.”
My nose wrinkles. “What kind of women are you hanging out with?”
He spins me again, catching me off guard as he pulls me back into him with my back pressed to his chest as he whispers in my ear. “It doesn’t matter. If Kate and Lynsey don’t like them, they make my life miserable.”
He swirls me to face him again, and I notice his attention is distracted by my parents dancing near us. He squeezes my side and chin nods to them. “Look at them. They’re actually talking to each other and laughing. You paint a pretty grim picture of your mom, but your dad looks no worse for the wear.”
I sigh heavily. “Yeah, he’s always doted on her. He’s never minded that she’s uptight and tense about everything. A bit of an enabler if you ask me.”
Dean huffs out a laugh. “Well, at least they actually speak to each other.”
My brow furrows. “Are your parents not like that?”
Dean shakes his head like this conversation is taking a turn he doesn’t want it to take. “No…my parents are divorced, thank God.”
“Was it pretty bad when they were together?” I pry further, noting that Dean suddenly tenses beneath my hand.
He looks away, his jaw muscle ticking beneath his stubble as he thinks for a moment. “My parents could barely be in the same room with each other. And when they did talk, it was usually screaming horrible, vile things about each other that no child should ever have to hear about a parent. I was twelve when they finally split up, but I saw enough to know marriage is a great way to ruin a relationship. Frankly, to have a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary seems…I don’t know…too good to be true, perhaps? Is that image your parents are putting out right now real? Do you truly think they are still in love?”
My face twists as his question triggers a horrifying memory.
“What?” Dean asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s with that face?”
I groan and press my forehead into his hard chest. “Don’t make me tell this story. I’m scarred for life.”
His hand squeezes tightly around my waist, his thumb digging into my hip. “Now you have to tell me.”
I lick my lip and tilt my chin up to whisper in his ear. “Last summer, I came home to borrow my mom’s porcelain soufflé dishes.”
“Naturally,” Dean deadpans.
“Anyway, I let myself in with my key, and I caught them.” An uncontrollable shudder runs through me as a horrific image of them reemerges in my head.
“Caught them?” Dean asks like he can’t begin to imagine what I mean.
“I caught them,” I repeat dramatically for emphasis because surely, Dean isn’t this dense.
“What are you talking about?”
“They were boning in my dad’s recliner, Dean,” I exclaim, and Dean quickly claps his hand over my mouth and shushes me as both of us erupt into uncontrollable giggles.
Dean releases his hand and wraps his arms around my waist, his entire body vibrating with silent laughter as he hugs me to him and whispers, “Seriously? A recliner?”
“His recliner.” I clasp my hands together behind his neck and do my best to contain my laughter, but it’s no use. I giggle even more into his chest because I can’t think of a less sexy piece of furniture to have sex on. I tilt up to add quietly into his ear, “The worst part is that it was one of those automatic ones, and my mother’s leg must have been bumping the remote because while she was on top of him, it was reclining backward.”
Dean jerks back to gaze down at me, his entire face lit up with amusement. “How long were you watching, you pervert?”
“Shut up!” I squeeze his neck in warning. “I was frozen in shock for like five seconds. It was enough to hear the sound of the motor or whatever…I’m scarred for life now. I’ll never be able to sit in a recliner again.”
Dean laughs and pulls me a little closer as we both try to catch our breath. “Nothing says true love like a power recliner.”
I sigh and glance over at my parents again. They are pretty damn cute, even if my mother is a pain in my ass.
The next couple of hours fly by, and despite my earlier thoughts, I’m actually having a good time. Dean smiles perfectly in all the photos and visits with everyone so easily. He even convinces one of my mother’s friends to host their weekly book club meetings at the bakery. My mother is in that damn club and has never once suggested that to them. Even my father was impressed by Dean’s predictions about my franchise expansion. It was exactly what I was hoping for tonight. In fact, the night has been going so smoothly I sort of forget this is all supposed to be fake. Having Dean by my side feels natural.
Dean is just dragging me back out to the dance floor for one of my favorite Heart cover songs when my mother’s voice peals from behind me. “Norah, look who’s finally here.”
My hand tightens around Dean’s, and I desperately want to turtle shell my way out of this meet and greet and run for the hills. Dean gives my hand an encouraging squeeze, and I exhale heavily. This is why he’s here. This is what we’ve been breaking all the rules for all night long. I can do this.
I release Dean’s hand and turn to face the music. “Nate, how are…?” My voice gets caught in my throat as I take in the sight before me.
The man standing with my mother beneath an obscene amount of twinkle lights isn’t the Nate Hawthorne I was expecting to see. Not even close.
Childhood Nathaniel was scrawny and constantly had food in his teeth. He thought showering was bad for the environment and didn’t go anywhere without his French horn.
This guy in front of me…is hot! He’s all fair-haired and tan with seriously broad shoulders that look like they’re going to rip out of that black suit coat any second.
And he’s tall. He wasn’t this muscular and tall in high school, right? There’s no way. I would have remembered that. My mother mentioned he got adult braces, but she failed to mention the rest of his transformation, which is remarkable. Honestly, he’s what Rachael and I would call a “Main-Event-Nut.”
You see, back before I perfected my croinuts recipe, Rise and Shine specialized in more traditional gourmet donuts. Our cases were chock-full of beautiful, colorful donuts we started making at three a.m. every day. And naturally, some donuts were prettier than others. So, Rachael and I came up with a sorting system. The best-looking ’nuts would go front and center. We called them the “Main-Event-Nuts.” The “So-So-Nuts” would go behind them. And the donuts in our first batch of the day before our coffee kicked in was called the “Butt-Nuts” and shoved in the back where nobody could see them.
Before this moment, I would have slotted childhood Nate in the “Butt-Nut” category. Quality and taste are great but not quite polished enough to be a headliner.
The man standing before me right now, though, is very much a “Main-Event-Nut.”
Color me surprised. And horrifyingly shallow. I seriously need to read more.
Nate flashes a pearly white, and yes, definitely very straight-toothed smile at me. “Norah Donahue, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
I laugh and feel a flush come over me as I tug on the thin straps of my dress. “Back at you, Nate. California clearly agreed with you.” I clear my throat because my voice sounds all stupid and breathy.
“California was good, but I’ve missed Boulder,” he replies with ease. “It’s got that small-town feel that no LA neighborhood could ever achieve.”
My eyes lower to his protruding pecs under his lapels. “I hear ya there…where are you living?”
“I’m still on the hunt for a nice piece of property to invest in, so I’m staying with Mom and Dad for now. I want something close to the firm.” His blue eyes twinkle with that sweet kindness he always had. “Makes it easier to be a workaholic that way.”
“Oh, yes. I live above my bakery, so I can understa
nd that desire. My mom mentioned you were taking over for your father. How’s that going?”
He smiles knowingly. “About as well as can be expected, considering the old man doesn’t want to retire, but my mother is forcing him.”
Just then, my father and Nate’s parents join us on the side of the dance floor. My mom grabs Nate’s mom’s arm and says, “Carol, I wish you could force Jeffrey to retire too. We’re all supposed to retire together.”
“I’ve still got a few years left in me,” my dad says and shoots me a quick wink. “I’m not as elderly as Jimmy here.” They all erupt into laughter as Jim mean-mugs my dad.
“How’s your little bakery doing?” Nate asks, and our parents all focus back on me.
Just then, Dean’s arms snake around my waist from behind me. “Not so little anymore,” Dean says, his chest vibrating against my back as he speaks.
Nate’s eyes move from me to Dean. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“This is Norah’s friend Dean,” my mom rushes out quickly, glancing nervously at Jim and Carol. “He was kind enough to come along with her tonight.”
“As her date.” Dean moves to stand beside me, his left hand drifting down my waist as his thumbs skate over my hip in a possessive move that does strange things to my body. “And I’m actually an investor in her second bakery opening up in Denver soon. I know a good thing when I see it.” Dean shoots a wink to Nate, and Nate’s eyes widen.
“Wow, two bakeries? Good for you, Norah.”
“And a national franchise to launch very soon,” Dean adds with a smug tone I want to kiss.
Whoa, where did that thought come from?
I shake off the image of my lips on Dean because…what the hell? I guess it’s natural to feel attracted to someone who knows your work and praises you to other people. But I’ve never been that girl. I don’t need a romantic interest in my life to tell me I did a good job. My parents’ approval is another story because I need to retrain their brains to see other successes in life besides marriage and babies.
But a man’s praise turning me on? Never. Not needed. Not happening. No way. This warm feeling in my body after hearing Dean’s praise must be from the champagne.
My mom’s voice cuts in next. “Oh, I can’t keep up with Norah’s bakery. I don’t understand all this franchise business she’s doing. I thought one bakery would keep her busy enough. Who wants all that responsibility of multiple locations? It just seems like a lot of work to me. And so much travel.”
Nate’s dad nods. “I’m just grateful I have a son to take over my firm. It’s nice to keep things small and in the family.”
My brow furrows at that remark.
“Then again,” Dean chimes in, “if you have a creative vision, a great work ethic, and an entrepreneurial spirit like Norah here, you’re a triple threat, and the sky’s the limit.” He offers a cool smile to the group like he’s chatting about the weather. “I wouldn’t have invested half a million dollars if I didn’t believe in Norah. And I do a lot of investing for very wealthy clients. I’ve told every single one of them about Norah’s upcoming franchise opportunities. It has incredible investment potential.”
My jaw drops, and I look at Dean, and whisper, “Is that true?”
He frowns down at me. “Of course it’s true.”
Wow, I didn’t know. Max never said a word. I wonder if it was Max’s idea or Dean’s?
“Max isn’t the only one invested in your success,” Dean adds, clearly reading my thoughts.
“More business talk that goes right over my head.” My mother peals out a laugh before casually extracting herself from the group.
Nate quickly changes the subject and begins discussing the changes he’s making to his dad’s CPA firm.
Suddenly, my mom comes up behind me and grabs my arm to pull me aside. Her voice is barely a whisper when she says, “Norah, you should take Nathaniel inside to catch up.”
My lips part, and I glance over my shoulder to check on Dean, who’s politely listening to Nate drone on. I look at my mother’s wide, beady eyes. “Mom, that’d be really inappropriate. I’m here with Dean.”
She waves her hand with a scoff. “Oh Norah, please. Dean is obviously just some business partner. Leave him with us and go inside to visit with Nate.” She straightens a strap on my dress like she’s prepping me for my wedding night. “You two look so great together. Didn’t I tell you he’s much more handsome now? I can already picture little blond grandbabies!”
“Mom,” I hiss, my brows furrowing with annoyance. “This isn’t happening. Dean isn’t only a business partner…he’s my…” I pause as I try to figure out what to say to get her to back the hell off this Nate thing. “Dean’s my boyfriend.”
All good humor disappears from her face and hits me with a menacing glower. “Norah Renee Donahue, you brought that Dean person here to spite me. I know how you operate. This is like that time you told me you needed money for a prom dress, and I found out later you spent it on a baking class at the community college and borrowed a used dress from Abby Thompson. Now I want you to stop being rude and take Nathaniel inside. He might be your only chance at a real future.”
My entire body tenses with an anger I rarely, very, very rarely, tap into. In fact, the last time I remember my temper spiking this fast and this hard was when the appliance company shipped the wrong commercial oven to the Denver location and tried to stick me with a restocking fee.
There was bloodshed then.
And there will be bloodshed now.
I bite my lip hard because I know nothing I can say right now will make my mother see that a future isn’t just romance and marriage and babies. She won’t hear that. She doesn’t want to hear that. She wants her only daughter to make her a grandmother with Nathaniel Hawthorne, and she’s going to live her senior years out in disappointment because that’s never going to happen.
But instead of saying all of that. Instead of repeating myself for the hundredth time in the past week…I decide to do something wildly out of character.
I turn on my heel, grab Dean by the elbow, whirl him around to face me…and kiss the daylights out of him.
Holy fucking croinuts! Norah grabs my face and yanks my mouth down to meet hers. Her lips are hard against mine, and her entire body is ramrod straight as I grab onto her sides for support and attempt to recover from the sudden assault that I did not see coming.
Is Norah actually fucking kissing me right now? Holy shit!
This is a moment I’ve been fantasizing about for…well, probably years. Ever since I walked out of my rented co-working space and stumbled upon her bakery and decided to take a number and wait for the croinut of the day. After that, I went back nearly daily, claiming my appreciation for the croinuts, but secretly, I appreciated the sight of Norah artfully glazing her creations.
Normally, I’m the kind of man who sees what I want and takes it. I’ve never shied away from asking a woman out. But as I watched Norah in her bakery, I realized quickly that she was not the kind of woman I could date and discard. She’s the marrying type…which makes it really fucking ironic that I just now found out she’s not into the whole marriage and babies lifestyle.
And knowing that makes the fact that I’m finally tasting Norah’s lips even more fucking epic. She tastes sweet, like cake batter and vanilla, and I’m pretty sure her lips are soft, but they’re not currently moving, so it’s kind of hard to tell.
Well hell, if we’re doing this, we might as well really do this.
My hands steal around Norah’s waist and dip low on her back, maybe a little too low for this type of crowd, but fuck, Norah started it, and I’m damn well going to finish it. I pull her pelvis into mine in an attempt to soften her against me, and she reacts perfectly, her tits crushing into my chest as her body bows backward, allowing me to take complete control of this gift she’s giving me.
Norah melts beneath me, and I have to hold on tight to keep her upright as her lips so
ften and part, allowing my tongue to do a gentle sweep between her lips. She tastes like champagne, and she’s now soft and pliant, giving me a full embrace of that plump upper lip I’m slightly obsessed with.
Okay, majorly obsessed with.
A quiet groan vibrates in my chest as I turn my head and deepen the kiss, massaging her tongue with mine as she squeaks out a soft cry. Her hands move from my jaw to my hair, and her fingers skate through my strands like they’ve done it a thousand times before.
I’ve fantasized about kissing Norah Donahue countless times, but this moment right here…exceeds all of those dirty thoughts.
A distant throat clearing interrupts our most likely indecent public display, and I force myself to pull away because from little acorns, mighty oaks do grow. And I do not need to pop a boner in front of Norah’s parents.
My eyes crack open and attempt to blink away the shock of what just transpired. Norah pulls back, still holding my head, her chest heaving with deep breaths and her lips red and swollen as she stares at me with wide blue eyes.
“I thought you said no kissing,” I croak softly, my voice deep and in a weird, raspy tone.
“I might have lost my temper.” She exhales a shaky breath, her nostrils flaring with life. “So much for those rules, I guess.”
The corner of my mouth pulls up into a smile before I painfully turn away from her to see it’s Norah’s father who was the throat clearer. He’s eyeing me like he doesn’t like me as much as he did five minutes ago. I can’t blame the guy.
I cough into my fist, and murmur, “I think it might be time for us to go, sugar lips.”
“I think you’re right,” Norah replies, detaching herself from me and turning to face her parents and their friends with a sheepish look. “Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. I’m afraid my boyfriend and I have to be going now.”
My body tenses at that label. When the fuck did we go from a fake date to a fake relationship? If I wake up engaged tomorrow, I might regret this favor for a friend.
Elaine shoots her daughter a murderous glare while her dad appears to be fighting back a smile. Norah then waffles her fingers through mine and practically drags me behind her through the party, out of the backyard and into the dark night full of a million more possibilities that I hadn’t considered before.