Cupcake (Complete Me #1)

by Sloan Kincaid

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s just go back inside.” I wanted to put the conversation with Max behind me, to forget it ever happened. Max was going to pay my tuition whether he liked it or not. He could gripe and groan ‘til the cows came home, but at the end of the day, my bills were getting paid and if not, Max would find himself in front of a judge.

  Freddy’s, it seemed, was a restaurant slash pub of some sort. While it was technically part of the mall, it was divided from the rest of the strip by a full parking lot. The spaces outside were mostly full—I’d worried that Shep was taking me to some dive where I’d stick out like a soccer mom at a biker rally, so the rows of empty cars were soothing. The exterior of the restaurant resembled a cabin, like one of those hunting lodges you might find out in the wilderness, complete with the log-cabin aesthetic. The word Freddy’s was written in bright red, cursive letters over the entrance and an enormous moose head hung above it.

  It was not the sort of place that Max would ever have set foot in, but I immediately relaxed as we pushed through the door. The place was about half filled with people, most older than Shep and myself, but there were a couple of tables with kids, too. The bar, situated on the wall opposite the door, was about half full with patrons. At least there were no damn talking animals on the walls, and none of the employees were parading around singing ‘happy birthday’ to any of the customers. Freddy’s seemed to be one of those places where they offered a variety of things—big burgers with plates filled to overflowing with fries, enormous steaks that needed entire platters, fresh seafood, heaping salads with too much dressing, and for the kids, grilled cheeses and hot dogs and crayons.

  We got a seat at a table in the center of the restaurant under a dome-shaped stained glass light. The waitress, a peppy blond girl and probably a student at the university too, plopped a couple of laminated menus down in front of us. “Hi!” She chirped over the chatter of nearby patrons. “I’m Amanda. I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?”

  “Budweiser,” Shep said, without hesitation or looking up from his menu.

  Amanda looked at me. My mind went blank. I hadn’t been to a bar in years. I rarely drank—in the aftermath of the divorce with Max I’d worried that I’d turn into one of those crazy ladies spending my days drinking wine with my ten cats—

  and I didn’t have a clue what drinks were popular now, or if they’d changed at all. The only thing I could think of was Shirley Temple for whatever reason, which wasn’t an alcoholic drink, and if I ordered a Shirley Temple in front of Shep, he’d probably laugh me out of the restaurant.

  “She’ll have a Bud too,” Shep said, seeing my hesitation and shooting me a grin. I tried to conceal a cringe. Budweiser was a beer, right? I hated beer, or at least, the last time I’d had one a million years ago, I did.

  Amanda buzzed back to the kitchen, leaving Shep and me to our own devices. I considered opening my mouth and asking about the assignment, but his mind seemed to be on the menu. I picked it up and glanced over it, but the words all seemed to melt together. Max’s words still plagued the back of my mind.

  Amanda came back with the drinks and set them in front of us. I took a sip and cringed before placing the bottle back on the table. Shep ordered a basket of mozzarella sticks, and finally, we turned our attention to the project.

  From the get-go, it was clear to me that Shep had a pretty good mind for business already. I wondered what he was doing in a business class. He knew about accounting, and advertising, and tracking the market—all, from what I gathered, from working at a mechanic’s shop. One that he owned?

  I had no idea why, since I certainly wasn’t looking for a man to try to take care of me again, but that he likely owned his own shop, combined with that raw male something that he oozed... it was freaking hot.

  And I was in no place to be thinking like that. I turned my attention back to taking minuscule sips of the stupid beer, attempting to conceal the taste by stealing one of Shep’s mozzarella sticks. Soon the sticks were gone, however, and the beer was only a quarter of the way consumed.

  “Look, I think we’ve covered enough,” I said, wiping my mouth with the edge of a napkin. “And it’s getting to be time for me to go.” For good measure, I looked at my phone.

  Shep, sitting with one muscled arm braced on the back of the chair, and one leg crossed over the back of the chair, barely batted an eye. “So soon? What, you got a hot date or something?”

  I could feel the heat rising into my cheeks. “Well, no, not really. It’s just that it’s late…”

  “You might want to at least finish your drink first,” Shep said, nodding at the mostly-full beer.

  “I’m good,” I said, maybe a little too sharply. “In fact, you can have it.”

  “Hold on.” As Amanda passed, Shep tugged on her apron. She turned with a flirtatious smile that pissed me off.

  Chill, Anna. So Shep was hot. I had no claim on him, and never would.

  I still didn’t like it when Shep gestured for her to bend over, whispering into her ear. I leaned close, hoping to figure out what they were saying, but Amanda just nodded and disappeared.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Shep smirked at me, and I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t relent to the bitch look.

  Something told me he didn’t relent to much, ever.

  A few minutes later, Amanda came back with a fresh drink. This one wasn’t another Budweiser—in a stout, round glass. The color of the drink was bubble gum pink, and the surface was bubbly and white. A lemon slice was perched cheerfully on the brim.

  “What’s this?” I asked, swishing the drink around.

  “Try it.”

  Shep leaned over and scooped my beer away, putting it in front of himself, as I gingerly sipped the new drink.

  Before I could stop myself, a murmur of pleasure slipped from my throat. The drink was sweet and fruity, but for the most part, it tasted like sugary lemonade with raspberries—whatever alcohol was in it, I couldn’t detect it, and it didn’t have that beer taste.

  “Wow,” I said, blinking a couple of times in succession and taking another sip. “That’s really good.”

  “I asked her for a girly drink,” Shep said, smirking again as he sipped at his beer. “You didn’t seem to like the Bud so much.”

  “How could you tell?”

  Shep shrugged one shoulder apathetically. “I can tell what women want.”

  “Really,” I arched an eyebrow as I snorted out a laugh. “All throughout history, men have never known what women want. And suddenly, Shephard Sloane comes along and has it all figured out.”

  Shep took another sip, pinning me with a gaze from those wraithlike eyes. “It’s not that tough.”

  I leaned back in the seat, and as I did so, my leg touched Shep’s, who had uncrossed his legs and was now sitting with them outstretched. I gave him a sideways glance and pretended it hadn’t happened. Hell, it may have been years since I’d had dinner with a guy, and maybe I was rusty, but the old flirting tricks were like riding a bike – I hadn’t forgotten them.

  If Shep noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and fixing his gaze on my own. “There’s something between us here, isn’t there?”

  What?

  The comment caught me off guard even as nerves fizzed through my veins. “Yeah,” I blurted out before I could think about it, “an empty basket of mozzarella sticks.”

  Shep didn’t laugh. I didn’t blame him since it was a terrible joke. In my mind, I smacked myself in the forehead. I could feel my cheeks growing hot and red.

  “Come on, Annie.” He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t deny it. We’ve got—whaddya call it—chemistry.”

  “Don’t call me Annie.” I cleared my throat. Chemistry? Yeah, I’d noticed chemistry. That being said, who was I to act on it? Shep was probably, what, twenty-one? Twenty-two? He was at that age where he didn’t care a
bout any age gap. He wanted what he wanted—took what he wanted.

  I ignored the fact that the notion of Shep taking what he wanted from me sent a delicious little shiver down my spine.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Twenty-four,” Shep said. “How old are you?”

  “Older than that,” I said. The actual number—thirty-four—rattled around in my head like the things in a can of spray paint. It wasn’t that I thought thirty-four was old. I mean, I wouldn’t be checking into a retirement home anytime soon.

  But thirty-four compared to twenty-four? That was a whole decade! I was in fifth grade when Shep was born!

  “Look,” I said. “I’m not going to deny it. There’s something here. But… but it can’t happen.” As I said it, I set my drink down for dramatic effect, the ‘thud’ of the glass on the tablecloth a nice way to punctuate the sentence. The disappointment that flooded me the second I did was overwhelming.

  I didn’t want something to happen, did I?

  Shep reached down, uncurled my fingers from the glass, and tangled his fingers in mine. Something tightened in my gut as he pressed a hot kiss to the firm skin of my palm, his tongue flicking out briefly to taste the salt.

  “So, you want me. I want you. What’s the problem, Annie?”

  “Stop calling me that!” Truthfully, I didn’t want him to stop. I liked that he had a pet name for me—liked that I wasn’t just interchangeable to him.

  “Answer me. Why not?” His gaze was challenging and playful, with an ever-so-slight grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. It was sexy as fuck. “Cause the math seems pretty simple to me.”

  “I’m not very good at math.” I swallowed, meeting his gaze. “I’m better at other things.

  His gaze darkened, the grip he had on my hand tightening.

  Holy shit, did I just say that?

  I was flirting. My mouth was telling him one thing, my tone another. And the way those icy eyes of his quickly turned a flame-bright shade of blue told me that my true message had been received, loud and clear.

  “I should go,” I blurted out before I could do anything stupid. Yeah… stupid like leaning in and nipping at that strong, capable fingers that were still tangled with my own.

  Something in Shep’s expression shifted, and then he pulled back, signaling the waitress for the check. Again, I felt that rush of disappointment that I had no business experiencing.

  I needed to admit it to myself—I wanted Shep, never mind the age difference. I wanted him badly.

  What the hell was I supposed to do about that?

  5

  “You don’t need to walk me to my car.” The heat I’d just felt quickly turned to irritation as Shep paid the bill, refusing to let me contribute, and stuck to my side as we left.

  He said nothing, but I could feel the waves of his caveman obstinance, sending out a beacon to anyone who might dare look at me.

  She is with me.

  “What are we, living in the nineteen-fifties?” I asked with a scowl, groping around my purse for my car keys. “I don’t need a guard dog.”

  “Sure you do,” Shep said without missing a beat. “It’s late; it’s dark. I’d feel like a jerk if something happened to you on my watch.”

  “On your watch?” I asked, a little more irritation in my words than I’d intended. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know.” That’s all he said – I know. Cool. Confident.

  I knew where this was going to lead. Max had been the same way. He’d walk me to my car, because that’s what he did on his watch. Of course, when asked—or usually, even without being asked—Max would remind me of all the things I’d slowly turned over to his keeping over the course of our relationship. I couldn’t handle very much, now could I? I needed him.

  Now that I was free, I was starting to see the reality of the situation: these were the things that Max used to control me. I could take care of myself. Someone tried to start crap with me? They’d get a face full of the mace I carry in my purse. Or they get kicked in the balls. Or if my tolerance were at an especially low level, maybe they’d get both. The point was, I could take care of myself. I didn’t need a babysitter. The rest of the women in my family? Maybe. But not me.

  Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Shep was different. He hadn’t implied that I couldn’t take care of myself, just that he’d prefer if he were walking me to my car, instead of me going it alone.

  And truthfully, my irritation wasn’t at him. At least, not completely. No, I was pissed at myself for liking it.

  And I wasn’t stupid. Dinner came first, then came the walk to the car. It was formulaic, just like every romantic comedy I’d ever seen. The walk to the car meant the night was almost over. That meant it was time for Shep to make his move, and seeing as he’d been lining up his shot for the last hour, I knew it was coming. What I didn’t know, hadn’t decided for certain, was how I’d field it.

  What would Shep be like in bed? Would he treat me like I would break, like Max always had? Or would he let that raw sexuality take over? In other words…would the bed squeak, or would we put the damn headboard through the wall?

  The thought of the later made me wet.

  Jesus, Anna. Enough. I was going to go home and go to bed. Alone. It was the smart thing to do.

  So why did that decision leave me wanting more?

  “I think we made a lot of progress tonight,” Shep said as we approach my car.

  Progress? What? What was he—oh, right, the thing for school. I knew that.

  This isn’t a date.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We can get started on it next week, I think.”

  I’d unlocked my door and turned around to face Shep as he spoke. We were right back to where we’d been earlier, after Max called, only this time he didn’t have that vicious, protective look in his eyes. He was still leaning on my car with one hand, though, and now… now there was something hungry in those pale eyes.

  “You know,” he says, leaning and close to my neck. “You smell like cupcakes.”

  “Cupcakes?” I ask, frowning and cross tilting my head. “If anything, I smell like fried food.”

  Shep shook his head. “No, it’s cupcakes. Maybe it’s because you’re so sweet.”

  He smirked. I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Can you get any cheesier?”

  Shep chuckled. “If that’s a challenge, I’m up for it.” There was a pause in the conversation, and when he looked at my face again, his expression had changed from one of amusement to something more intense. Reaching up with his thumb, he rubbed at my forehead.

  “What are you—”

  “You got a crease,” he said. “A crease, in your forehead.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m frowning. I do that a lot.”

  “Well, get rid of it before next time.

  Oh, shit.

  “Next time?” The words were breathless. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

  “There will be,” Shep said, quick and confident. “You know as well as I do.”

  He eased up on smudging my forehead but left his thumb on my skin. “Like I said, there’s something between us.” His thumb trailed down the side of my eye and down my cheek.

  “And I said we couldn’t do anything about that.” Oh, God. His fingers—just that light but possessive touch, trailing over my cheek. Every nerve in my body was on fire.

  “I disagree,” he said, his thumb trailing across my cheek to stroke over my lower lip. “Dunno what it is yet. But you’re crazy if you think you can ignore it and make it go away.”

  He probed at my lower lip with his thumb, the light touch insisting I open for him. I shocked the hell out of myself when I did as he silently demanded, and when he slipped his thumb between my teeth, I bit gently.

  He growled. Before my mind could finish reeling, Shep gripped me by my upper arms with those large, calloused hands. He tugged me to the side, lifting me clean off my feet and plopping me onto the hood of my c
ar. Slipping his arms around me, he pulled me close, locking his hands at my tailbone and leaving our faces only inches apart.

  The hard length of his body pressed against me, and I gasped. His cock was solid, hard and heavy, nudging against the softness of my belly and demanding its presence be known.

  Is that for me?

  His eyes met mine, transmitting five seconds of warning before his lips crashed into mine. His lips held a hint of beer, but on him the taste was intoxicating. I wanted more, craved it, sipped directly from the lips that were pressed against my own.

  We broke the kiss. No, there was no way this could happen. I was living a daydream here, a fairy tale of my creation that somehow edged over the boundaries of fiction and splashed into the real world. There was no way this could be real.

  No matter how much I wanted it, I couldn’t have it. I hadn’t fought so hard for my freedom just to get tangled up with another bossy man.

  None too gently, I put my hands on Shep’s chest and pushed, just barely resisting sliding my hands up his shirt and over that hot, tight skin. No, I didn’t need a man. Max was gone. I was independent now. Maybe somewhere down the road I’d get back in a relationship, but for now, I wanted to learn to stand on my own two feet without using a man as a crutch.

  “Come home with me.” Shep’s breath was hot against my ear as his hands stroked over my waist. “What do you say…Cupcake?”

  “What is with you and the nicknames?” I felt my face flush. “And…no. I—I have to go.”

  Shep watched me from those light eyes, impassive, and for a second, I thought he was going to protest or, hell, just throw me in his truck anyway. That’s what Max would have done. Instead, he took a step back, hooking his thumb on his belt. Without a word I slid off the hood, smoothing the front of my blouse and fixing my hair. I averted my eyes as I crawled into the driver’s seat of my car. Once I started the engine, I rolled down the window and gave Shep a smile.

  “Good night,” I said. “Thanks for the drinks.”