by Sabrina Sol
Daisy raised her eyebrows and muttered something about cleaning windows then walked out, leaving them alone to face each other from opposite sides of the kitchen.
Amara twirled an errant strand from her ponytail and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Can’t we forget it about it? Please?”
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to be forgetting. You haven’t told me a thing, remember? But somehow I’ve managed to piss you off, and I think I deserve to know what the hell I did!”
She flinched at his hard tone, but then her eyes went cold. “Fine. I’m upset because you never told me what happened to you!”
It was his turn to flinch. He’d never heard Amara yell at anyone. She was right, though. Here he’d been thinking they were on the verge of this thing between them turning into more than a “thing,” and yet, he hadn’t trusted her with his past. His secrets.
It made him feel like an ass.
Determined to make things right, he crossed the room and tried to pull her into his arms, but she stood motionless. He sighed and settled for holding her stiff body against his.
“I know we’re not in a real relationship,” she said, “but you know everything about me and what I’m going through, and there are twelve years of your life that are a complete mystery to me.” She softened and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to tell me all your secrets because I could care less if you’re on the lam, or some secret government spy. It’s just hard to trust you with my future when I don’t even know your past.”
My future. God, he loved hearing the words, even if he’d yet to earn them. He let go of her so he could look into her eyes. “Ask me anything. I promise to tell you whatever you want to know.”
She looked unconvinced. “Really? Anything?”
Nodding, he took her hand and was relieved when she clasped his fingers. And she didn’t let them go for the next twenty minutes. He told her how devastated he’d felt when Mariah miscarried, but how it was nothing compared to when she’d confirmed his suspicion that the baby wasn’t even his, and that she’d only let him believe it was because the other guy wouldn’t have wanted her to keep it.
He’d dodged a bullet, for sure. And although he’d felt some relief, he also felt anger. Lots of it. So he started drinking that night and didn’t stop. Not until he totally missed his graduation ceremony and woke up in his car a day later in some parking lot in Montebello. When he got home his mom was hysterical, telling him how he’d devastated his abuela. He still felt the sting of her words: the one thing she wanted more than anything in this world was to see her only grandson get his high school diploma and he couldn’t even give that to her. It didn’t matter that the ceremony was just for show, that he could still go pick up his diploma. His mom kicked him out then and there—just five days before his eighteenth birthday.
“So where’d you go?” she asked. “Why didn’t you come to our house?”
“I guess I was ashamed. I didn’t want to pull you or your family into my drama. So I slept in my car for a few nights and then I called one of my cousins who lived in Las Vegas. He said I could crash there and that’s where I’ve been all this time.”
“And the drinking?”
He winced at the question. “When you’ve been doing it since you were fourteen, every day is a fight to stay sober. But it’s under control. I have a sponsor, and I found a good AA meeting here. I’ve only been a couple of times but it’s a good group and it helps me, knowing they’re there when I need them.”
“I’m glad you’re still going to meetings. You don’t ever need to be ashamed to ask for help. And that includes asking me.”
“It’s not that I’m ashamed. Well, maybe it is a little. But part of it is I don’t want to drag you into my problems. You’ve got your hands full here, and the last thing you need is to worry about whether I’m sneaking shots of whiskey while I’m installing your drywall.”
He laughed to hide his own anxiousness. It was true. He needed Amara’s trust, and telling her all of his failures and weaknesses wasn’t exactly the best way to earn it.
“I won’t think that,” she said, and he believed her. “All I ask is that you’re honest with me. I can’t sleep with someone I don’t trust.”
He moved his hands back to her waist and pulled her against him. Her eyes widened and he smiled. “So that means you’re still willing to sleep with me?”
She pulled his head down for a kiss. His heart quickened at the taste of her—delicious and sweet and sexy all at once.
“What do you think?” she asked, teasing him with her words and soft lips.
The warmth of her body and the feel of her breasts against his chest stirred his cock, and he groaned as he felt it straining against his jeans. Eric couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed her by the ass and lifted her up onto the stainless steel counter. He moved his hands to her head and kissed her deep, their tempo and passion building.
“Damn, I want to fuck you right here,” he murmured against her lips as his hands cupped the sides of her breasts through her thin T-shirt.
“Keep doing that and I might just let you,” she said in a breath. He believed her and that made him nearly explode in his jeans.
“But I can’t. Right?” He knew they couldn’t have sex in the bakery’s kitchen. Daisy could walk in any minute, so could a customer. Hell, so could her parents. He still needed to double check though. Because if she said okay, he’d be inside her within a matter of seconds.
“Right. We can’t,” she answered back. “Tonight, though. Tonight for sure. Okay?”
He nodded, knowing that if they didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to control his body any longer. So he tore his lips away and dropped his head onto her shoulder. His ragged breathing eventually slowed. His heartbeat went back to normal. His jeans became more comfortable. And when he trusted himself to touch her with his hands again, he picked her up and set her gently back onto the floor.
Jingle. Jingle.
They looked at each other and smiled at having stopped just in time.
“Tonight, then?” He searched her eyes for any lingering doubt about him or his intentions. Maybe it was his simmering desire or his own naive hope, but he didn’t see any.
“Tonight,” she assured him.
As he left the bakery, he tried not to think about how few “tonights” they had left.
Chapter Thirteen
The night didn’t end up going quite the way Eric envisioned, though he wasn’t complaining.
Amara had come back to the bakery at nine o’clock, but she’d stumbled in loaded down with presentation folders, sticky notes, poster board, markers, glue sticks, and different stacks of paper.
He hurried over to help before she tripped and fell. “Do you have homework or something?” he joked.
“Actually, we have homework. I’ve been going over everything I’m going to say to my parents tomorrow, and the one thing that kept nagging at me was how unprofessional it’ll look. The last thing I need is for them to think this isn’t a real business meeting. In their minds, it’ll probably just be another morning at the bakery, talking to Amara about her crazy ideas. So I think I came up with a way to make them take me more seriously.”
“With all of this stuff?”
“Exactly. I’m going to do a real, professional business presentation, complete with handouts, charts, and diagrams. I started some of it already but I can’t do this by myself.” She looked at him, her eyes a little too wide. “So what do you think? Am I being stupid? Maybe this was all a bad idea.”
In all his life, he’d never seen someone so determined to make her dream come true, yet still so afraid. He’d promised to help her, so if that meant spending the rest of the night coloring pie charts or cutting out pictures instead of rocking her world, so be it. “I think that maybe I would’ve done a lot more homework back in high school if you had been there helping me,” he said. “Amara, I know you can do this. Let’s get
to work.”
She threw her arms around him. Planting quick kisses on his forehead and cheeks, she thanked him over and over again.
The contact immediately made him grow hard. So much for keeping himself under control for a few more hours. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but those cute little pecks aren’t going to cut it. I need to taste you.”
He claimed her lips, and the way she immediately opened to him threw gasoline on his already burning desire for her. He hauled her body against him, and she groaned or sighed or hummed, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that the vibration against his lips drove him crazy—so crazy that he worried he’d never be sane again. So he deepened the kiss and moved his hand between her legs. Although the crinkly, thin fabric of her long skirt created a barrier, he could still feel the heat of her pussy underneath. He took satisfaction in knowing that he’d made her so hot, and the more he rubbed, the hotter—and wetter—she got.
He moved his lips to her neck and then to the top of her shirt, pushing the edge of it down with his chin as he went.
“God, I want to bend you over and fuck you right here,” he growled.
“Then do it. Our homework can wait.”
It was all he needed to hear. He guided her into the back storage room and locked the door. It didn’t matter that it was late; they’d left the front lights on and he couldn’t risk her dad or brother walking in and seeing what he was about to do to her.
Eric moved his hand behind Amara’s head and took her mouth again. His tongue swept the bottom of her lip and she nipped it, sending a cascade of shocks through his body. He loved it and would gladly let her bite him all night.
But his dick had other plans.
He reached between them and found the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, unveiling a lacy purple bra that was so sexy he decided to leave it on. Then his hands slid down the sides of her body, pulling her skirt and panties with them until they reached her ankles. He lifted each foot gently, opening her thighs as he went, then knelt in front of her.
“Sweetheart, I need you to grab hold of my workbench behind you and hang on.”
Before she could ask why, he spread the glistening lips of her pussy and took a long, deep lick.
“Ohhhhh,” she gasped and arched her back, her thighs quivering as they made contact with the stubble of his jawline.
“Fuck, yeah,” he whispered back, lost in his own reckless lust and need. Although he loved tasting her sweetness, he knew the world wouldn’t be right again until he could slide his cock in where his tongue was now.
He took one last suck and then stood up. “Turn around and bend over,” he ordered.
As she did, he worked furiously to undo his belt and scramble out of his jeans. Within seconds, he’d removed his boxer briefs and sheathed his cock.
He focused on the glorious sight before him. Amara was bent over his workbench with her ass in the air. He couldn’t resist planting a kiss on each cheek, his finger trailing from her clit to the dimples at the base of her back.
“God, you have a beautiful ass,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy grabbing hold of it while I pound into your pussy.”
With one hard thrust, he was inside her, and as promised, he held on tight, digging into the flesh of her ass as he pulled her against him over and over again.
“Do you like me fucking you this way, baby?”
“Yes. Oh. Yes. Oh,” she answered between thrusts.
“I knew you would. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because deep down you’re a naughty, naughty girl who loves her pussy licked and loves to be fucked from behind with your ass in the air. Tell me that you’re a naughty girl, Amara.”
“I’m a…I’m a naughty girl,” she cried out.
Her words and the clenching muscles of her pussy around his cock unraveled his control. He leaned across her back and hooked one arm under her so he could drive in deeper. Her body shook as the orgasm rolled through her and it set off his own physical and emotional eruption.
And in the aftermath, he knew he was well and truly screwed.
…
Why does it feel like I’m going to a job interview?
Nerves jumbled her insides, so much so that she could barely force down a cup of coffee earlier. Now, as she stood staring at the front door, waiting, she didn’t just feel nauseated, she felt faint.
Daisy, on the other hand, was happily munching on a doughnut. “Hey, why do you look so pale? It’s just your parents,” she said with a wink.
Amara glared at her cousin.
They were about to present their ideas to Ricardo and Consuelo on how they planned to revamp the bakery. Despite her mother’s wishes, she’d actually convinced Señora Rios to change her order back to the fondant cake by telling her how unique and special it would be. The cake had been such a hit with her grandson that Señora Rios asked Daisy and Amara to take care of her anniversary party next month.
The business was already growing and they hadn’t changed much. Now it was up to her to make her parents see just how much more could be done.
“Okay, we’re here,” her mother announced as she opened the bakery’s front door. “Let’s get this done quickly. I have to go help the ladies at the church get ready for the rummage sale next weekend.” Her dad entered after her and Amara directed them to have a seat at the table.
Her hands shook as she gathered the presentation folders she and Eric had created last night after having sex…twice. Each contained a proposed gourmet selection of new desserts and coffees all targeted to bring in the students and faculty of neighboring Cal State Los Angeles. Amara had also included a list of the traditional breads and desserts they would keep on the menu because they were still popular sellers, and a note that she would continue taking cake and cupcake orders for the weekends—with a few new options for cake flavors and fillings.
Daisy’s contribution included screen captures of a new website, Facebook page, and Twitter account—things they knew her parents wouldn’t quite understand at first but were necessary to show their strategy to attract the college customers. She also listed local events where Amara could sell desserts, a draft of advertising fliers, and a mock-up of a new bakery logo: a white line drawing of a steaming cup of coffee next to a piece of bread inside a brown square.
Eric’s section showed hand-drawn diagrams of a new floor layout that included a new public restroom area and opened up the entire front space of the bakery with new slimmer display cases that Eric would build on his own. He’d added swatches of deep oranges and yellows – his suggestions for repainting the building’s exterior. Finally, he’d drawn a few more tables for the inside and outside to encourage people to stay at the bakery while they ate pastries and drank coffee.
The last section of the presentation folder included a trial business agreement with L.A. Cuchara for the restaurant to exclusively sell Robles’ gourmet desserts for the next three months as part of a special weekend menu. Amara would bake the desserts at a negotiated discounted price, and in return, Brandon would help promote the bakery with signage and fliers inside the restaurant.
“Well, what do you think?” Amara asked after going through the presentation page by page with her parents.
“How much?” Her dad was the first to speak. “How much is all of this going to cost me?”
“Nothing,” Amara said.
“Don’t be ridiculous! More chairs and tables, new display counters. Expanding the space! This is all going to cost money, Amara,” her mother interjected.
“Mom, can you let me finish, please? Anything that is in addition to what you originally hired Eric for is not going to cost you and dad a thing, because I’m going to pay for it.”
Consuelo’s eyes grew big. “With what? You have no money.”
“I’m going to get a small business loan.”
“Again, with what? You have no collateral. No bank is going to give you money without you putting something up for it.”
/> “That’s why I want you to sign the bakery over to me.”
“Estás loca!” her mother said with a laugh. “After what happened last time? No, Amara. No.”
The words stung. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was crazy. After all, she’d tried once before and failed on an epic scale. Part of her wanted to tell her parents never mind, to just forget the plan. But she heard Eric’s voice urging her to stand up to them to tell them once and for all what she wanted.
She lifted her chin and pressed on. “I know how hard it’ll be to trust me with the bakery. But things are different now. I know what it’s going to take to make this a successful business. But to do it, I need to be the one in charge. This bakery is going to close if you don’t let me save it.”
“We don’t need you to save it,” her dad insisted.
“Stop, Daddy, just stop. We both know you’re having a hard time making the payments on the loan you took out on the house. I work here every day. I know how much money we’re making—or rather how much money we’re not making.”
“It’s not that bad,” her mom said with a sniff.
“I’m sorry. But it is.”
Her dad shot up from his chair, his face red and contorted. “We’ve been through tough times before and we always survived. This is my business and I’ll fix it.”
“But Dad—”
“But nothing. I’m sorry, mija. I know you’re only trying to help, but taking the bakery away from us isn’t the way to do it. I’ll find another way.”
Amara looked at her mother, expecting her to tell her again why this had all been a crazy idea.
Instead, her eyes were sad. Her face? Scared. And that’s when Amara realized that her mother knew just how bad the situation was now, and how bad it was going to get if something didn’t change soon.
And that broke her heart even more.