by Gina Kincade
It surprised her when she heard the knock at the front door over her music and the sound of the mixer. Expecting her mom, she hollered for her to come in. Preston cautiously poked his head inside the kitchen. Flour covered her apron. Pans, utensils, and ingredients, littered every inch of space in her kitchen and on the table. Her long auburn hair tied up on the top of her head, and no makeup, probably circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, she almost ducked out of sight.
“Hi. You’re busy at it. Desserts. You were expecting me,” he remarked incorporating his usual, knee-buckling smile.
Dropping her eyes from his mesmerizing presence, she mumbled, “I didn’t expect you. I can’t say I expected to ever hear from you again.”
Walking to her, he placed a finger under her chin directing her gaze back to his. “Why would you say that? Can you not understand I like you? I like you, Luckee. I enjoy spending time with you. Yes, the sex was fucking amazing, but we’ve barely got to know each other and you’re already kicking me out the door. As a matter of fact, that is exactly what you did that first morning.”
“The things I said last night…I’m sorry. It was presumptuous and cruel.”
“Pretty much. Well, some of it, yes. But I’m partly responsible.” He slipped his hands around her waist pulling her close. The scent of his cologne reached her igniting all her senses. And he did stimulate all of them…all of her. “Trust me, if I would’ve noticed Donovan getting overly touchy with you I would’ve put an end to it.”
His lips came down to hers. He held them there, barely touching. He inhaled when she exhaled and vice versa. Those patient and intimate moments between them, and there had been many in their short time together, chipped away at her barrier of reluctance. She didn’t have an extensive backlist of lovers. It consisted of one, Levi. But Levi and she engaged in an active and adventurous sex life.
Preston’s lips suspended at hers communicated tenderness and a sensual craving so intense she trembled. Somehow, Preston’s touch, or lack of with the promise of being worth the wait, affected her more deeply than anyone ever had. It provided her with acceptance and desire, both soothing and fiery. And it came at her too fast.
“Tell me, Miss Sexy Bakery Lady…what do you have going on here exactly?” He stepped away, just a step or two. She swore he read her mind. He recognized when she became overwhelmed and hesitant. What exactly did he recognize? Her internal struggle not to shove his ass back on the floor and go at him like a depraved sex addict, or, the damn ever-present cynical voice screaming every pessimistic outcome and to not fall prey to any hope of any ‘happily ever after’?
“If you seriously want to know? And since you’re already seeing it and standing in the middle of it…I’m attempting to sell some baked goods.” She waited for a laugh or a gibe of some sort. He didn’t give one. He surveyed the half-completed macarons and the cupcake mixture.
“So, where can I help?”
“You want to help? As in tasting everything?” she commented.
His perfect mouth turned up in the corners revealing his magnificent teeth. “No, silly. Well, yes actually, but you will be surprised at just how competent I am with my mouth, and in the kitchen, including, but not limited to cooking and baking. You’ve already been the recipient of a few of my other mouth skills in here. ”
She knew exactly how competent he was with his mouth. “This is quite the surprise. I expected Jessica to be a good cook. She told me before even inviting me over how she enjoyed it. But, you. I never suspected you and Jessica to be related.” Why did she have to go and say that? She opened the door on that one. Her idiot mouth had some rampant objective of guaranteeing he probed into if they encountered one another before Jessica’s house.
“You aren’t the first to say that. She’s always done everything she can to distance herself from the life and lifestyle we grew up in. Our parents have always been more ‘absentee parents.’ She had some difficult situations to deal with during her teenage years and became resentful and rebellious towards them. I don’t blame her either. Now she and Corey have each other and the kids. She’s happy.”
“I agree. She seems to be incredibly happy. Are you close to your parents?” Handing off a muffin tin to him, she explained, “Put the liners in and fill each one up about two-thirds with the batter.”
They spent the afternoon boxing the macarons into the fancy little boxes she had for them. He raved over the flavors she chose and how unique and creative they were. He described his favorite, the coffee inspired ones, as exceptional. They iced, no, she iced the cupcakes. He attempted to recreate her delicate, dazzling designs and didn’t fare so well. But he watched her with interest and the conversation never ceased or felt forced. She learned he spent a lot of time in the kitchen growing up with Jessica and their cook, Sissy. Sissy became more of a mother to them than their birth mother. Some things he told her were sad and made her realize how lucky she truly was. Jessica had little to no contact with their parents, and he met up with them several times throughout the year at one of their many properties in the states, the Caribbean, or overseas. It sounded lonely. She couldn’t imagine not having a close relationship with her parents. True, sometimes they were too close for comfort, but they all supported and depended on each other.
And Preston didn’t have any problem washing dishes. They put as many as they could and what would fit inside the dishwasher, but the majority of large mixing bowls needed to be hand-washed. He kept flicking the bubbles at her. Then he sprayed her with the sink nozzle soaking her shirt. She didn’t let it slide, she retaliated. After soaking each other and the kitchen floor, the natural conclusion presented itself.
Crossing her arms low in front of her, she clutched the bottom of her shirt and slowly pulled it up and over her head. She forgot she had no bra on, so she bared her small boobs, but he gawked at them in obvious appreciation.
And what his eyes didn’t translate, his hands, mouth, and words did.
***
Sunday, Lukee existed in a bubble of amazement and happiness. She and Preston had the best day and night Saturday, and it carried over into her Sunday morning. The Friday night incident and her reaction never came up. She knew it needed to, at some point. But between the baking, all the talking, lovemaking, and each of them picking a movie to watch—they simply enjoyed one another.
All of her desserts sold, and she received some orders. Things couldn’t be any better. On Monday, she went to the city to replenish her baking supplies and meet up with Luther at the gallery. Preston texted her asking if he could come see her. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday morning and couldn’t wait to see him again. So, taking a chance, she replied informing him, she came into town and told him she could come by. He did offer Friday night for her to go to his place with him before she snubbed him outside the bar. So she felt safe asking to come to his home.
He agreed and gave his address. Realizing the location, she felt worse about her comments to him on Friday. He lived downtown, a few blocks over from where they had been. He probably walked over and she stood out on the sidewalk spouting unfounded remarks about him getting behind the wheel. She cringed thinking about it.
Drifting from her car to the gallery, she held her phone contemplating texting him and telling him, she couldn’t go by. She decided against it though. She needed to let it go. He did. He came to see her since, and they had a wonderful time. The windows at Luther’s still displayed her paintings. She had been so preoccupied with everything Preston and her desserts; she hadn’t celebrated or acknowledged the success of selling them. Not only in suppressing applause for the accomplishment of someone appreciating her art enough to purchase it, but the payment would repay the upfront costs she put into the dessert venture.
As quickly as she embraced her achievement, she released it. She couldn’t just accept good things. No, she had to dissect them until she found some facet to taint the positive. Katie, Luther’s assistant, greeted her, and advised her he had to leave. She gave
Luckee a check and informed her he wished to contract several more pieces asking if she had any completed to offer.
They talked back and forth for several minutes. Before she left, Luckee asked the name of the individual who bought the first ones. Preston Ingram. She wavered between acute disillusionment and mounting irritation. He never said anything. He let her believe she had genuine talent. He watched her revel in it at the showing. In front of her family and Nicole. Did he think she needed his financial generosity? Is that what she was to him—a charity project?
Emotions surged through her. She debated driving home and not going to see Preston, but she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else, so she went to confront him and get some answers. She felt like a fool. She wondered if he told Jessica…maybe even Lexie.
Preston greeted her with a severe scowl on his face and exuding serious annoyance. She barely had both feet through the door before he flung it closed and accused, “I guess I’ll go first since I have been more forthcoming with things than you.” The tension radiating off him paralyzed her. What could have him upset? That involved her? She had a bone to pick with him, not the other way around. “Were you ever going to mention it? You’ve had multiple opportunities to, and you didn’t.”
She drew a blank. What should she have mentioned? And when should she have?
“You recognized me. Didn’t you? And you never said a word? Don’t you think it was rather significant?” he scoffed.
Oh, she completely forgot about the initial, potential relationship-killer once she faced the most recent one. How long had he known? Or did he recognize her too and never admitted it? “What? What did you want me to say exactly? The first night at Jessica’s I totaled my car and was covered from head to toe in the messy culprit.”
“Let’s see…we spent the whole night together. Talked way into the morning hours. Woke up together,” he challenged.
“And then I told you to leave and had every intention of not seeing you again. So, when next would have been a great time to tell you about something so personal and devastating? I don’t like talking about it at all. I’ve always wanted to have a rewind and change things I said or things I did. But I can’t.” And speaking those words to him were the most she had spoken about it since it happened. No one knew all the horrible things Levi yelled at her before he climbed in the cab of the truck and tore away from that party. Except Preston. She wished no one ever did. But he did. And she hoped he would never remember. Maybe he always did. Maybe he bought her paintings as a form of conciliation.
“I’ve never much liked talking about it either. Who do you think I am? Do you think it didn’t bother me? Of course it did. Besides the fact, they plastered his death all over the local news and newspapers. Do you blame me for his death?”
“No, I never blamed you. I blame myself. And you aren’t who I thought you were. I did paint you in my mind as this party animal rich boy that never experienced a hardship of any shape in his life. But you aren’t that guy. You weren’t even that guy the night you stood up for me.”
“No, I’m not. The guy with you was being a jackass. What man would stand back and allow him to continue? So why didn’t you tell me? Money? If you wanted to take me for some money, all you had to do was ask for it. I would’ve given it to you.” He marched to a drawer and pulled out a checkbook. “What figure did you have in mind? Let’s just go ahead and get it over with.” His piercing blue eyes fixed on hers in a frigid glare puncturing her heart.
“How dare you accuse me of anything, especially financial driven. Is that why you bought my paintings? Or, because the poor li’l hick gal could use your charity and your wealth turns every Potter County chick into a horny bitch? You flaunt money around as if everyone has it. I have all I need. But no, you want to use yours as…blood money? I would never resort to extortion. Is that what you are implying? You don’t owe me anything. Why would you? What happened was an accident. A drunken, stupid, immature act. Levi and I weren’t a couple that night. We had an on again off again relationship. And that particular night we were off. And you got to witness why.” Her jaw tightened and her stomach contracted. She hated this. Expecting the worse and undergoing it were two different beasts. She found it hard to breathe. Every breath she managed came with excruciating discomfort.
“I didn’t care who he was, who you were. No person needed to be on the receiving end of his vicious outburst. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I bought the paintings because they’re good and I like them. And, I didn’t hide it. Well, not intentionally. I hoped you’d see them hanging here in my apartment once I take possession of them.” He slammed the kitchen drawer shut. “I hated he died, and I’m the one who forced him to leave, but he was out of control. I wouldn’t change anything I did. He needed to go, and he wasn’t driving.”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t want you to know I was ‘her.’ The girl associated with a drunken guy shouting vulgar, intimate slurs at her. And the things he said—”
“And now you believe every guy is like him. Damn, Luckee. I overlooked the outrageous assumptions you made about me. Drinking and driving. Drinking and unwarranted jealousy. Anything drinking, period. You never gave me a chance. And the rich excuses. I have money. I never made you feel…well I never meant to make you feel less than who I see you as. It’s sad you don’t see yourself that way.” He placed his palms on the counter and rocked to and from it awaiting her response and at an obvious loss for what else to say.
Every point he made rang true. Usually when he discussed his family and their money, he relayed sadness and loneliness. And, she didn’t know he lived directly across the street from the club they were at the night of the exhibit. He had no intention of getting behind a wheel. And even when he and Lexie danced together, he never gave Lexie the attention he lavished on her. Wow. She sucked. She spent so much time searching and exaggerating any derogatory trait he might have, she inflated her own. The awareness of that along with observing his frustration and angst became too much. “I’m sorry. I did want to tell you. I didn’t know how. You can return the paintings to Luther. I’ll give the check back. Or tear it up.”
“I like the paintings, Luckee. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have paid what I did. I could have come to you directly and cut his commission out completely, but I know the kind of exposure you can get through him. And yes, I can afford it. So what. I didn’t know until today you were the girl from the party. It was dark outside that night. All I focused on at the time was getting him away from you and off the property.”
Things were going downhill fast. Her chest ached. She struggled not to breakdown in front of him. Did she believe he would never discover they met before? Maybe she did. Or maybe she did after she realized she liked him more than she expected to. “I’ll go. We’ve already said too much,” she uttered.
“I don’t want the money back. I bought the paintings and I’m keeping them. And now that I have the opportunity to express my condolences and offer an apology for any inadvertent role I may have had or you believe I did in his death, I am.” He appeared downright defeated and it made her sick to her stomach.
A sob escaped and the tears fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” She gasped, crying harder. “If it wasn’t that night, it would have been another.” Now he would always see her as the weak and ignorant girlfriend of the drunken abusive guy he kicked out of his party and died during a mindless stunt afterwards.
Rushing for the door, she left him and his apartment as fast as she could. Running down the stairs, bypassing the elevator altogether, she somehow got inside her car and cranked it through her haze of tears. Noticing him coming at her from the right, she put the car in reverse and drove away. She had to stop several times on her way home and surrender to her breaking heart and her incessant sobbing.
Chapter Four
Three days passed and Luckee hadn’t heard anything from Preston. Not as if she could expect to. She could only fault herself. It hurt enough without
that gigantic reality crushing down on her. She missed him. In a short time they had more fun than she may have ever had. They laughed. They loved, well made love, and lots of it. Being in her apartment reminded her of being there with him.
So, she went to work. She went to bed. She went to work. She went to bed. She replayed conversations in her mind. And each time it concluded with their last encounter in his apartment. And how she could have prevented it, and didn’t. She brought it on herself. It disgusted her that she destroyed a probable dream relationship because she had so little faith in herself she didn’t trust he would either. And she gave him no reason to.
What a fucking mess. She needed to forget about it. What could she do to change it? Nothing. The confusion and letdown in his normally happy, bright eyes, and his allegation she had ulterior motives branded themselves in her memories and in her heart. Leave it be, Luckee. You didn’t believe it could work out, so you made damn certain it couldn’t.
Wednesday afternoon at the small dance studio she taught tap and ballet to young girls, Nicole showed up. She waited until Luckee dismissed the class, but not patiently. She paced. She slapped her hands on her waist. She glanced at her phone several times. She even huffed loud enough for everyone to take notice of her.
Rather dreading it, Luckee stalled, assisting some of the girls in changing out their shoes. Unable to further delay the inevitable, she made her way to her friend.
“You are so damn lucky, Luckee, that I love you. What the fu—” she started, before Luckee covered her mouth with her hand.
“Come on. There are kids here,” Luckee cautioned.
“Then I suppose you should take me to the office or something because we need to talk…now,” insisted Nicole. Luckee headed in that direction, and Nicole continued, “This is you…all you. For years, years now, I’ve supported you and kept my mouth shut. But, goodness gracious, Luckee. Did it ever, ever, once cross your mind that you deserve happiness and yours and Preston’s paths crossed because they were supposed to? No. Of course it didn’t. You told me Jessica requested you put your work in the show. You didn’t want to. You whined and bellyached about how you weren’t good enough. Then when some otherworldly force put you and Preston together, the one guy you placed on a pedestal so high no other could reach, and he’s into you…I mean really into you— I can’t even fathom what went wrong, or why you couldn’t reach out to me.”