by Nia Arthurs
I open my mouth to protest, but he steals my words with another tortured kiss.
24
Mave
Hearing Clark talk about the person I used to be felt foreign. Like she was discussing another man. Another lifetime. A me from an alternate dimension.
Ever since I met her, tunnel vision set in.
I went from needing all women to needing one.
Just Clark.
Only Clark.
It happened slowly.
So slowly I didn’t even realize it was love that hit me.
Back then, I thought it was a game. A simple way to get her attention. Get beneath her skin. Make the pretty, self-assured baker put her hair down. Draw that smile my way. The one she offered freely when we met for the first time.
I didn’t know I was falling until I realized I could lose her.
To a fire.
And to my own stupidity.
I can’t let this woman walk away.
It’s been a constant, terrifying refrain since Clark swore to the heavens that she would never have a man like me.
The old me.
The one before I met her.
Since then, I’ve been on the edge of my seat.
Brittle. Bracing myself for the day she finds out I’m the heir of the company.
Because she will find out.
Someday.
And it’ll all shatter.
Until then, I treasure my time with her.
Make every moment count.
Every breath.
Every kiss.
I pursue her with a focused desperation that’s probably a little smothering.
Too bad.
I need all of Clark.
All the time.
And I make sure she’s aware of it.
Doesn’t matter how cold it is, I’m dressed and outside her apartment early in the morning to take her to work. Always with a meal from her favorite diner. Always with her favorite brew. The one I hand-drip for her at home.
During the day, I’ll check to make sure she’s not overworking. Sometimes, I’ll pull her aside so I can look at her. Plant my lips on her. Taste her until her pleasured cries rattle through the employee lounge and I have to stop, rise and shut her up with a kiss.
At night, I take her out. Wherever she wants to go.
Ice skating ring. Christmas tree lighting. Sleigh ride through the park.
I’d rent a helicopter if she had the time.
Take her to Paris if she’d let me.
Whisk her away for the weekend if she wasn’t so focused on her bakery.
That woman works too freaking much.
Although I can’t complain.
Those sexy glasses perched on the edge of her nose while she types out a note to the loan office at the bank is my new favorite fantasy.
No matter how much I want to spoil her, Clark never asks for much.
She’s easy to please. So low-maintenance it kills me.
She’s happy just holding my hand as we stroll through a Christmas tree park. She’s glad just talking with me on the phone until we both fall asleep—her first, usually, and then me as I listen to her breathe. She beamed the entire night when I stopped by for dinner with her sister and nieces a few days ago.
That night, after the meal, she walked me to my car, grinning all the way. She mentioned how much she enjoyed tonight, and I casually told her that I’d come by again next week.
I got such a tirade of kisses in response, I ended up dragging her to the backseat to make out like a couple of horny teenagers.
The change in me freaks me out when I stop to think about it. I find myself whistling lately. Humming to whatever holiday-theme song happens to be playing on the radio.
Christmas has lost its power to haunt me.
Carols don’t taunt me when I’m with Clark.
The garlands and Santa hats are just decoration when her hand is in mine and her eyes are staring at the winter landscape in wonder.
She took the ugly, twisted memories of my past, pressed her pretty little lips to them, and suddenly, I want to hold onto Christmas like it’s something precious.
Now, I wake up eager to go to work. To implement a crazy idea. To try something new and daring that only I can attempt because I have the network, the connections, and the guts to make it happen.
Marketing strategies percolate in my head and every tiny step forward gives me an immeasurable feeling of pride.
There are only a few days left until Christmas, until the deadline for the bakery is up. We’re just about to break even, but I still count all the tiny wins.
Like the day we topped our highest profit.
And the day a news van stopped by to do a piece on us and our ‘alternative’ Christmas Wishing Tree.
Slowly—almost as slowly as my falling for Clark—I realize that I’m cut out for more than just drinking myself into oblivion. More than tearing through exotic locations, leaving a trail of disaster and broken hearts behind.
I’ve got a business to run.
And it feels freaking great.
“Don’t you miss the wild life, man?” Jarvis asked me last week when I turned him down after he invited me out to a new club opening.
“Hell no.”
I’ve sowed my wild oats.
I’ve tasted every kind of woman.
Gorgeous, international models. Eager to please me.
I knew what it was to have the world.
And now, my world is shrinking to the size of one petite baker with a sassy mouth and a dream she’s worked all her life to accomplish.
Clark’s incredible.
Amazing.
Mine.
And someday…
She won’t be.
Damn. I know I should tell her the truth.
I do.
But whenever I sit and think about telling her, the chance that she could resent me, back away from me, doubt how freaking obsessed I am with her—it scares me back into my silence.
I’m going crazy.
But I’d go totally insane without her.
Balls-to-the-walls, out of my mind.
Sometimes, I wonder if this is normal.
Or if I’m cursed.
Gran told me years ago that love could make you do stupid, crazy things. That it was a storm that blinded you until the world outside didn’t mean a damn thing.
I was a kid back then.
A part of me thought I could beat love.
That it wouldn’t touch me if I avoided it.
I should have known that love would come for me.
I should have known it wouldn’t be the gentle type that rained kisses and puppies and freaking rainbows.
Instead, I’m getting pummeled.
Reshaped.
Burned by the need to be better.
To be more.
To be Clark’s.
A presence breaks me out of my thoughts. The shadow of a curvy woman falls over my table.
She clears her throat. Shifts from one leg to the next.
I glance up. Grin. “Maxine.”
“Mave.” Her answering smile is hesitant.
Strange.
Since our dinner last week, she’s been treating me like we’re family. Says whatever comes to her mind. And I enjoy that.
“I almost had a heart attack sneaking this out.” She slides the key over. “Clark signed the papers this morning.”
“I know. She told me.”
Clark shared the big news amidst squeals of pride and excitement. I acted uninterested. Barely glanced at her. She was disappointed when I didn’t make much of it. Didn’t even kiss me when she left work today.
“You got the dress I sent?” I ask, slipping the key into my pocket.
“It’s gorgeous. You must have paid a lot.”
“I would have paid ten times that. One dress is not even close to what I’m going to do for her.”
Maxine blinks. Glances away. “You’re enjoying this.”
&
nbsp; “I like making her smile.” I shrug. “And it’s not that difficult. Not with Clark.”
“She has simple tastes. There’s nothing she likes more than baking and spending time with the people she loves.” Maxine chuckles. “And Christmas. The woman is obsessed with this holiday.”
“She bought me matching ugly sweaters.” I chuckle. Shake my head.
“But you still wore it.”
“Because she asked so nicely.”
“All she has to do is ask?” Maxine teases.
“I wish she’d ask for more.”
“You already drive her to work at that ungodly hour every morning and take her on dates every evening.” She wags a finger at me. “I have to hire a babysitter now because of you.”
“My bad.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t even sound sorry.”
I grin.
“Don’t you ever get tired of her?”
“Tired?”
“Like,” she rubs her stomach, “you need to take a break for a few months?”
“No. I enjoy Clark’s company.”
She smirks. “I hear you guys giggling on the phone at night. Don’t you run out of things to talk about?”
“No.”
“Ugh. You’re so in love it’s nauseating.”
I can’t disagree.
Clark has claimed so much of my heart.
One look from her can floor me.
One simple touch can cut me to the quick.
I’m completely and totally in love with her.
A goner.
Maxine taps her fingers on the table.
Despite her smile, there’s no sparkle in her brown eyes.
“Is something wrong?” I ask. “Did the girls not like their presents?”
“No. They loved the dresses you sent.”
“Good.” I let out a relieved breath.
Clark helped me pick them out. I’ve been planning today’s surprise for a while, but I didn’t want to send an expensive gown for Clark alone without gifting her sister and nieces with something as well.
Since I didn’t have a clue what to get for them, I lured Clark to go shopping with me under the guise that I was picking out Christmas presents for her family.
“I’m glad.”
Maxine squirms and continues to avoid my gaze.
“Max, just spit it out. What’s going on?”
“I hate to ask this.” She winces. “Really.” Brown eyes meet mine. “But I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“You can ask me anything.”
“It’s for Levonte,” she blurts. “Could you lend him some money?”
I blink once.
Twice.
Levonte is still hanging around Maxine, much to Clark’s chagrin.
I’m cautiously optimistic that he’ll stick around this time. For Max, Moe and Tan’s sake.
“He didn’t ask me to do this.” Maxine shakes her head. “I’m just trying to help him out. He’s been so stressed lately. We’ve been fighting a lot and I think it’s because he’s worrying about this money thing…”
I put my hand on hers. “Of course. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Thank you, Mave.” She chokes up. “I really believe that when he gets his business on the ground, he’ll be the man I need him to be.”
I force a smile, although I’m not sure I agree.
Maxine gives me the bank information and lists the amount. “It’s not too much right?” she asks cautiously.
“I’ve got it.”
“Thank you so much.” She stands. “I have to get back to my shift.”
“I’ll send the money right away.” I put a twenty on the table.
“Thank you. I mean that, Mave.” She hurries back to her post.
On the way to my car, I call Will and make a request for the transfer. Even as I confirm the amount, I’m plagued with doubts. Until Levonte has a ‘come-to-reality’ moment, a successful business won’t magically turn him around.
But it’s not my life.
“I’ll put the money in the account now,” Will says, dry and professional as always.
“Thanks.” I climb into my car. Slam the door behind me. “By the way, what’s going on with Gran? She hasn’t been answering my calls lately.”
“Do you need something?”
“I wanted to update her on the investigation.” Unfortunately, my spy cameras got doused when the sprinklers went off, so the arsonist is still at large, and Vulture’s gone on an ‘extended vacation’. “But Austin says he might have stumbled on something from the fire scraps, so there’s still a chance at finding a lead.”
“I’ll let your grandmother know.”
“Can I talk to her?”
His voice deepens. “Now is not a good time.”
Click.
My brows pinch together.
The hell?
Something’s up.
Gran has never gone this long without a call or a visit. The last time I spoke to her was almost two weeks ago on the night of the fire.
I’m about to call her cell directly when my screen lights up.
Brendon.
My concern takes a back seat as I grin and answer. “You’re here?”
“Yeah.” Baby noises erupt in the background. “You’re lucky my wife is humoring you, DeMarco. I didn’t fly all the way here to be put to work.”
“Oh, stop it.” Kayla’s voice fills my ears. “Mave, we’re excited to help. Where did you say this building was?”
“I’ll text you the address, but you’ll have to wait until I get there. It’s not open yet.”
“Sounds good.”
Eager to get started on Clark’s surprise, I speed to the old, broken down building that’ll become her bakery.
Brendon pulls up in his luxury rental a minute after I do.
My cousin hops out. “Mave!”
“Bro!” I jog toward him and clasp his gloved hand.
“Good to see you, man.”
“You too.” I nod to the vehicle. “Let’s get your family out of the cold.”
Brendon helps Kayla with the baby. The moment her feet hit the sidewalk, Kayla catapults herself at me and hugs me tight.
She’s a gorgeous woman with a warm smile and a shark-like business sense. But, ever since she heard about my parents’ death, she developed a soft spot for me that I enjoy rubbing in Brendon’s face.
I whistle low. “Woman, you sure you just had a baby?”
“I had a baby two years ago, Mave.” She rolls her eyes. Despite the cold, her brown skin looks dewy and sun-kissed. Plump lips ease into an even bigger smile as she smacks me. “You’re lucky I’m a matchmaker even when I’m not on the job.”
Brendon approaches me with their daughter. She has soft brown curls, tawny skin and dazzling eyes.
“Hey, cutie.” I tickle her stomach.
She giggles sweetly.
Brendon stomps his feet, his glasses getting hit with snow. “I’d forgotten how evil the winter over here was.”
I laugh and lead them into the warmth of the bakery.
Maxine promised me that Moe and Tan would keep Clark occupied so I can work in peace, but I still don’t want to take any chances. The more hands on deck the better.
Kayla’s jaw drops when she sees all the Christmas decorations I ordered.
Brendon coughs. “Mave, are you okay?”
“I didn’t know what to buy so I just bought the store.”
Kayla turns in a slow circle, her ponytail swinging. “We can see that.”
“Why didn’t you hire decorators too?” Brendon mumbles.
“I figured I’d put you to work instead.” I wink at Kayla. “Get that Make It Marriage touch.”
“We are known for excellence over at Make It Marriage.”
“I was thinking I’d need more of that Cupid’s touch.”
Brendon snorts. “What poor girl do you have on the hook now?”
“I’ll bring her to the Christmas din
ner. You can meet her yourself.”
Brendon’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “She’ll be at the dinner? Since when do you bring women to family gatherings?”
Kayla studies me intently. “Since he fell in love.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Come on, guys. Less talking. More working.” I reach over and take the baby from Kayla’s arms. “We’ll go sit over there.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“We’ll,” I gesture to Brendon’s daughter, “be directing.”
Brendon scowls at me.
I just laugh.
“Enough, boys.” Kayla rolls up the sleeves of her sweater and grabs a long red garland. “Let’s get this Christmas party started!”
25
Clark
I run a hand over the elegant red dress, a little overwhelmed and intimidated. The moment I slipped this gown on my skin I could feel how expensive it was. Like I was wrapping myself in hundred-dollar bills.
It felt like it was meant for someone else.
Not me.
Not the girl who sleeps on her sister’s sofa bed.
In her sister’s cramped apartment.
With a wind-pipe-crushing loan hanging over her head after purchasing a bakery.
My heels clip the floor.
I ease out of Maxine’s room and face my family with a nervous smile.
Maxine’s jaw drops. “Clark.”
“Whoa,” Tan says.
Moe squeals. “Auntie, you look so pretty.”
“It’s not too much?” I pat my hands over the velvet fabric. The dress clings to my body as if it was sewn just for me. Spaghetti straps grab my shoulders and crisscross at the back. The little clutch purse goes perfectly with the outfit. “I’ve never owned anything this sophisticated.”
“And it shows.” Maxine marches toward me. A heavy hand smacks my back.
I cry out. “Ow!”
“Stand up straight. Lift that chin. Don’t you dare act like you don’t deserve this.”
My mind can’t soak in her instructions. “I feel weird.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I grasp for words, “I’m not this.”
“You’ve always been beautiful and sophisticated, Clark. This dress is just signaling what’s inside of you, so cut the crap and walk like the queen that you are.”
“Maxine!” I start to tear up.