A Sweet Mess

by Jayci Lee

  “How did you find out?” He hated this. She was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  “I found out when I was thirteen, but it had been going on for much longer, I’m sure. Woman after woman. I ditched school one morning and followed him.” Aubrey lowered her eyes, her voice quiet and childlike. “I don’t know where I found the guts—I’d always been terrified of him—but I confronted him. He didn’t even bother removing his hand from the woman’s waist. He told me if I skipped school again, he’d send me away to a boarding school in another country. That was it. No explanation. No apology. I was the one in the wrong.”

  All Landon could do was brush a featherlight kiss on her lips and hold her tighter. Her piece-of-shit father didn’t deserve a daughter like Aubrey.

  “The thing is, he’d already been wanting to send me off to boarding school before then. When he couldn’t show me off at social events and I proved mediocre in academics, he lost interest in me. He wanted to sweep me under the rug like a dirty secret.”

  Landon cursed under his breath, unable to hold back. God. If it could stop her from hurting anymore, he would shoulder her painful past with his own and carry it for the rest of his life. No matter what happened between them.

  “When I begged my mom to leave him, she refused. She said I was too young to understand. She actually made excuses for him. I told her I hated her. That she was a coward.” Aubrey sucked in a shaky breath and burrowed deeper into his embrace. “God, I was so cruel.”

  “You were thirteen and hurting.”

  “She was hurting, too. I should’ve been there for her. Love broke my mom, and she drifted through life like an empty shell. And I just let her fade away.” He kissed her again and rubbed her back in soothing circles. “It wasn’t all bad. I was a teenage nightmare and wreaked havoc on his pretty social life. Once, he had to get me from the police station because I’d wrapped his Lamborghini around a tree.”

  “How old were you?” He chuckled, imagining young Aubrey with fight and rebellion in her eyes.

  “I was fifteen.”

  “That’s my girl.” He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

  “My turn,” said Aubrey, looking up at him. “Tell me about your family.”

  “Well, I have a younger brother. He’s a photographer. A pretty good one. My mom’s a painter, so he probably got the artistic genes from her.”

  “A painter and a photographer? That’s awesome. Are you artsy?”

  “Not in the least. My drawing skills are limited to stick figures.”

  Instead of laughing, Aubrey traced the contours of his face with her fingertips. “Your food is your art.”

  Her words at once gave him courage and scared the hell out of him. He tightened his arms around her. This time, he drew strength from her.

  “If you keep that up, I might actually take the plunge and open a restaurant.”

  “Well, you can’t be a celebrity food critic forever.” Aubrey’s expression was suspiciously bland. “When your looks go, you won’t have a choice. They’ll banish you to the kitchens.”

  An affronted laugh burst from him, and he kissed her upturned nose. “I think I’ll blacklist you from my restaurant just for that jab. I don’t know if my ego will ever heal.”

  “Fine. Just cook for me at home.” She yawned, tucking her chin against his chest.

  Home.

  “I’d love to,” he whispered. “I would love nothing more than to cook for you at home.”

  Aubrey answered with the steady rhythm of her breathing, asleep in his arms.

  16

  A coil of something strong and heavy was wrapped around her midriff. The sensation was unfamiliar but pleasant, and she smiled in her sleep. When Aubrey twisted to the side, stretching her back, she found herself pressed flush against Landon’s warm, hard body.

  “Oh.” Her eyes flew open to their maximum capacity.

  His arm, which had been lying across her stomach, was draped over her waist now, and his hand rested precariously close to her bottom. Her lungs shrank to the size of marbles, forcing her to resort to short, shallow breaths, and her pulse skipped at the base of her throat.

  She drank in the sight of his sleeping face, wonder filling her. He was beautiful. Holding her breath, she lifted her trembling fingers and traced his dark eyebrows, broad forehead, and cheekbones. She stopped at his parted lips, softened by slumber.

  Aubrey swallowed, fixating on his mouth. He looked tastier than a chocolate lava cake. What’s the lovers’ protocol for situations like this? She rose up on her elbows and then leaned over to stare at his sleeping face. She worried her bottom lip, deciding what to do. He’d been working so hard, and she wanted him to rest. Despite her selfless intentions, her face kept creeping closer to his. Her lips were only a few millimeters away from his lips when Landon smiled.

  “Good morning,” he murmured without opening his eyes.

  She drew back with a startled gasp, but he stopped her with his hand in her hair and kissed her. She closed her eyes and joined him in the lovely dream.

  The first caress of his lips was gentle and fleeting, but she mewled in frustration and urged him to deepen the kiss. His breath caught in his throat, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth. He tore her T-shirt and shift off with an impatient tug, and his hands were everywhere at once, greedy and rough.

  She caught fire in his arms and touched and tasted him with hunger and desperation. She had waited too long and was too starved to savor their reunion. Next time, she would drive him a little mad before she gave him release, and he would love every minute of it. But this time, they satiated their hunger with raw, animal instinct and came hard and fast in each other’s arms, shouts of pleasure filling the room. They slowly returned to reality, breathless and languid.

  “I wish I could keep you in bed all day.” Landon leaned his forehead against hers.

  “We’ll have tonight.” Aubrey smiled, cupping his cheek for a quick peck. “For now, you need to get out of bed and into the shower. Didn’t you say something about you having a small part in the production of a cooking show? Or were you just trying to impress me?”

  “I can’t decide whether you’re an imp or a siren.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his laughter vibrating against her breasts. “And just to clarify, are you impressed?”

  “Very impressed,” Aubrey said, and she ground her hips against him.

  “Siren. Definitely a siren.”

  With a helpless groan, Landon claimed her lips again, and she kissed him right back despite her best intentions. Before she was swept too far adrift, she squirmed and pushed against his chest. He growled in protest and titled his head to nibble her neck.

  “You need to go,” she said in between helpless moaning.

  Landon reluctantly lifted his head and glanced at the clock. He rolled to the side and swiped his hands down his face.

  “Tonight,” he said.

  With that promise, he headed for the shower, giving her an excellent view of his delicious bottom. When he ran the water, Aubrey tugged her slip over her head and headed downstairs to fix them some breakfast. They both needed sustenance.

  She rummaged around in the kitchen and set about making some croque-madames. Grabbing a brioche loaf, she cut four slices from it, appreciating the fresh bread smell. She missed Comfort Zone and the warm smell of the kitchen in the mornings.

  I’ll be back there soon. The thought made her pause with the brioche poised over the hot pan. Where does that leave Landon and me? She shook her head and pushed the thought aside. She’d done enough worrying where they were concerned. She just needed to be for now.

  There was nothing like making some béchamel to quiet her mind. Aubrey whisked and whisked the flour and melted butter over low heat until a smooth ball of roux formed, and then she slowly added in the hot milk.

  “Please don’t break. Please don’t break.”

  Relieved to have the thick, creamy béchamel finished, she heated up the
frying pan, scooping a generous pat of butter onto it. The bread turned golden, and the gruyère oozed out between the ham and bread. Then she set about frying some sunny-side-up eggs with which to top the sandwiches. It looked and smelled heavenly, making her mouth water. Although it was heavy with butter and cheese, they’d burn it off tonight. Even as she blushed at her naughty thought, anticipation knotted her stomach.

  She finished pouring fresh coffee into two mugs when Landon walked into the kitchen. He was on the phone, and his lazy and somnolent expression was nowhere to be seen. While his voice never rose, his cold, clipped words communicated his displeasure quite clearly. Aubrey felt bad for whoever was on the other end of the call, and a little chill ran down her spine. Landon wasn’t a man to be trifled with.

  “That was the contractor. They’ve run into yet another problem with…” His words trailed off as his eyes traveled down her body. “Is that what you were wearing under your shirt? I don’t think I’d have forgotten seeing you in that.”

  “I think you took it off before you opened your eyes this morning, so you technically didn’t see me in it,” Aubrey responded primly. He didn’t have time to be distracted by her. “Now, sit and eat before your sandwich gets cold.”

  “Thanks for cooking.” Landon swooped down for a quick, hard kiss before sitting down.

  Aubrey touched her lips with her fingertips, holding on to the feel of his mouth. She missed it as soon as it left hers. Why did he stop? She vaguely recalled he had a good reason, but she wasn’t pleased to be left aching and hungry.

  “This looks great.”

  He smiled across at her, but when he witnessed her lust-glazed stare, his eyes turned dark as night. Before she could remember why they shouldn’t go back upstairs, Landon lifted her in his arms and carried her to his room.

  The sandwiches got cold.

  * * *

  With only a couple days left until the first shooting, Landon’s schedule was brutal. Since he and Aubrey had gotten together, leaving for work had grown harder by the day, but it was especially difficult this morning.

  She was in the kitchen wearing one of his white T-shirts without anything underneath. He could see the fabric shifting against her naked body, and he dreamed of more pleasurable ways to spend his day.

  She’s trying to kill me.

  “Will you be writing out your recipes today?” Landon placed a soft kiss on her forehead and stepped back.

  “Yeah,” she said glumly. “I’ve never had to write a formal one like this. There are so many steps I need to include. I can’t get too detailed because people might be like, ‘Does she think I’m stupid?’ But if I don’t explain enough, the recipe might turn out wrong and they’ll be like, ‘Curse you, Aubrey Choi.’” She shook her fist for effect and then hung her head. “I wish I could just jot down the ingredients and measurements for the folks and they could figure out the rest.”

  “I know. But you’ll be immortalizing your recipes for future generations, so cheer up.” He pulled out a small package he’d hidden in his back pocket and held it out to her. “Here. Open it.”

  “Landon. You have to stop getting me presents.” Despite her words, she took her gift eagerly.

  “Don’t you dare take that joy away from me. Besides, they’re never extravagant.”

  “You put so much thought into them.” She cupped his cheek in her warm, soft hand.

  “Of course. They’re for you.” He needed to leave before he took her back to bed. “Come on. Open it.”

  With a happy smile, Aubrey unwrapped the package and then screamed with delight. It was a palm-size notebook with colorful unicorn sketches all over it. “I love it. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. Her goofy smile tasted delicious—sweet and floral. He deepened the kiss for a few seconds and groaned. He wouldn’t be able to stop if he went on for a second longer. Dropping a featherlike kiss on the corner of her lips, he rested his forehead against hers, letting their breaths mingle as one.

  Is this what home feels like? His chest tightened with wonder and panic, but he allowed the warmth and tranquility to wash over him. It was a stolen moment of happiness—isolated and timeless—and it imprinted itself permanently on his mind.

  * * *

  Aubrey was still grumbling and scribbling in the kitchen when Landon came back later that evening. She smiled distractedly at him.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself.” Landon kissed the top of her head. “Have you been in here all day?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she answered without looking up from her notebook, chewing on the end of her pen.

  Carefully taking the pen from her, Landon tipped her face up for a proper kiss. “You need to take a break.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. Besides, I have somewhere to take you.”

  “Now? Where?”

  “Yes, now. It’s a surprise.”

  Aubrey squinted at him for a second. “Well, it had better be a really awesome surprise.”

  The schoolhouse was finally finished, and Landon wanted Aubrey to see it before the place was overrun by the crew and their equipment. He didn’t stop to think why he wanted to show her the house. Or why he wanted to see her reaction.

  He hadn’t lived fully since his old man’s disappearance. His dream had dangled in front of him, temptingly within reach. All he had to do was claim it. But Landon had walked away to take care of his family, the one his father had abandoned. That selfish bastard. Landon swore never to put his dreams before his mom’s and brother’s well-being. He refused to be like him.

  He didn’t resent his mom or Seth. It was his decision. His pain to bear. And he’d borne it by being a spectator in his own life. His brand and his reputation had dictated his choices. He hadn’t owned a home or a car for the last decade. He chose to be a stranger passing through wherever he went. He didn’t dream—he didn’t want—and it had made him invincible.

  But Aubrey had shifted something in him. Suddenly, he wanted. He reached for her every night, time and again, and made love to her like a man starved. Now that he finally had her, he wanted her to be his—only his—for as long as she would have him. He swallowed the fear that rose in his throat and pushed aside the thought of losing her.

  When he saw the finished schoolhouse, it beckoned him. It whispered to him. Home. He’d convinced himself that Aubrey had nothing to do with it. That he’d grown tired of his nomadic life. But whenever he imagined home, Aubrey was in it—in the kitchen, in the courtyard, in his bed.

  “Oh,” Aubrey whispered reverently. “It does look like house in Little House on the Prairie.”

  “Little House on the Prairie?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I imagined the schoolhouse would look like when you first told me about it.”

  “Do you like it?” He held his breath.

  “It’s perfect.” She sighed. “It feels like a place where children should run amok, driving their parents crazy. But a happy crazy.”

  “You haven’t even seen the inside yet.” Landon played it cool even though his face was twitching to explode into a Howdy Doody grin.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  Aubrey floated through the house as though she were in a trance, her fingertips tracing the walls, the doors, the furniture. The comforts of modern innovation had been incorporated seamlessly into the century-old schoolhouse, and its charming rustic vibe hummed uninterrupted throughout. He watched her face, wondering if she sensed it, too.

  “Landon, this place is amazing.” She sounded breathless.

  He caught her hand and led her to the big open kitchen with high-end appliances hidden behind country-white panels mimicking the abundant cabinets. It was beautiful, but most of all, it was functional. It was a kitchen made for cooking.

  In a house of their own, the kitchen would be the center of life. They would bake and cook together every evening and trade stories about their day. And they would laugh. There
would be so much laughter and happiness.

  “I don’t think I want to share it with the rest of the world yet.” Aubrey placed a gentle hand on the gray granite countertop, as though she wanted to shield it from the prying eyes.

  She feels it, too.

  “Should we break it in before anyone sees it?” Landon’s heart pounded in a wild, deafening rhythm.

  “I’d love to.” Aubrey clapped her hands together. “What should we make?”

  “I wasn’t talking about cooking.” He rounded the island with steady, deliberate steps.

  “What?” Her lashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks. “I don’t think…”

  “Don’t think.” Landon was already past rational thought.

  Aubrey retreated a step but stopped when her back came up against the island. Landon reached her in two steps and placed his hands on either side of her. She squeaked and stared up at him with wide eyes. He bent toward her, chuckling against the side of her neck.

  “Did I ever tell you you’re irresistible when you get flustered?” He loved the color of her skin—warm and intimate—blossoming just for him. He brushed featherlight kisses from her neck to her shoulders, tugging aside her shirt to expose their delicate curve. “If I were a painter, I’d work day and night to blend the exact color of your blush.”

  “Why, Mr. Kim.” Aubrey freed his shirt from his slacks and ran her hands over his bare back. His muscles clenched, and a shudder ran through him. He was helpless against her touch and she knew it, and her momentary shyness was nowhere to be seen. “I never knew you were a poet.”

  “Only with you, my muse.”

  17

  The time to shoot her episodes came much too soon for Aubrey. She wasn’t cut out for show business. There were way too many people, too many lights, and most of all, too much makeup. The thick mask they plastered on her face made smiling feel like weight lifting.

  The only thing stopping her from running out the door screaming was the thirty-minute foot massage IOU Landon had left by her pillow this morning. But for now, she had to play dress-up with the scary stylist.