by Amity Cross
“Just like that?” I asked, shocked. “You haven’t seen me bake yet…”
He laughed, throwing his head back. “This isn’t an episode of MasterChef. If you would like to cook for me, then you can. I won’t say no. Perhaps I can come by your shop and see this cake everyone is making such a fuss about?”
“Sure. If you like.”
“It’s a big decision,” Hector went on, not even taking a breath. “Take some time, and think about it. I’m willing to give you a break, Callie. I know your shop is opening within the fortnight. I can help you with finding a suitable manager to keep it going, not to mention staff from my own ranks. Training and new experiences are vital parts of the culture here. They could learn a lot from the simplicity of cupcakes. It’s a true art form.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I nodded and forced out something polite. “I will. I’ll think about it.”
“Tell me, have you ever thought about expansion? Taking The Fitzroy Cake Company to the world?”
Outside, the air was clear, and I breathed in the crispness. Melbourne was bustling. I stood on the street corner, watching people walk to-and-fro as a steady clip of trams rumbled down Swanston Street.
One thing was certain. I wasn’t sure how to take Hector Vanderhall. Was he patronizing or encouraging? I just couldn’t place my finger on it. Everything he said was wonderful. Learning, traveling, expanding my experience…those were all things I wanted, but at what cost?
Thinking about The Fitzroy Cake Company, I sighed. Wasn’t a simple dream enough? I’d started out wanting a little shop where I could do my own thing, but now I was being told I needed a chain of them, along with a cookbook, television appearances, and a range of signature bakeware.
I wasn’t sure that life was for me. Then there was the elephant in the room. Mark.
If I took the job, I would have to leave him behind. There was no way we could continue the kind of relationship he needed with me on the other side of the world. Even if he came, my time would be severely limited. Coming home to a hotel room, exhausted and grumpy didn’t make for a healthy situation. Mark needed to be loved, and we were still new… Deep down, I knew it was him or the job. I couldn’t have both.
What was I going to do?
20
Storm
I had a weird feeling in my chest when I woke. Usually, I felt sluggish like a weight was sitting right on top of me, but today, it wasn’t there.
Maybe this was what hope felt like. What a trip.
Staring at the ceiling, I thought about Callie. My beautiful, ashen-haired, emerald-eyed Callie. I opened up and let her see some of the darkness inside my heart, and she believed me.
My phone pinged with a text. Like I’d call out to her telepathically, it was from Callie. If you’re free, come to the shop.
Sitting up on the couch, I pulled my boots on, grabbed my jacket, found my keys, and legged it downstairs. Any excuse to be with her was a good excuse. Actually, I didn’t need one of those. She was so passionate, bright, and damn cheerful about everything it was beginning to rub off. Even when she was deep in a serious conversation about my moronic ways, she was a ball of positivity.
I could learn a lot from a woman like Callie Winslow.
The back door was unlocked when I arrived at The Fitzroy Cake Company. The sweet scent of cooking filled my nose as I pushed the door inward and stepped into the stock room. This was where we’d met. This very spot. It looked a fuckload better without all the smoke damage.
“Hey,” I called out as I stepped into the kitchen.
“I have a kitchen,” she said with a sexy smile. “Isn’t it just perfect?”
She was wearing a cute little skirt that showed off her legs and a tight blouse. The top few buttons were undone, and my gaze fell to the swell of her breasts. Then there were her sexy as fuck lips…and the rest of her.
“I don’t know much about it, but if it makes you smile like that, I’m all for it.” I peered into the stainless steel bowl she’d put down when I’d come in and wondered what she was making.
“It’s chocolate ganache,” she said. “I’m making miniature fruit cakes with white marzipan icing with chocolate drizzle. Then on top, I’m putting little sculpted flowers and dusting them with these silver flakes.”
“Sounds complicated,” I said, picking up the container. The label read edible silver luster flakes.
“If they work out, I might add them to the menu for opening week.” She snatched the container off me and put it back on the counter. “They’re a little involved. It might be more trouble than it’s worth.”
I dipped my little finger into the chocolate and stuck it into my mouth. “Tastes good, though.”
“Hey!”
I went back for more, but this time, I wiped it onto her nose much to her horror.
“Mark!” She wiped at her nose, smearing chocolate on the back of her hand.
“What you going to do about it?” I asked wickedly.
Rolling her eyes, she picked up a spatula and mixed it through the chocolate like a pro. “Who am I to start fisticuffs with an actual real life cage fighter?”
“Even with the broken arm?”
“Especially with the broken arm.” Whipping the spatula into the air, she slapped the end against my cheek with a crack.
The kitchen fell silent, and her mouth fell open in shock. For a minute, nothing happened other than the chocolate running down my cheek, and then all hell broke loose. Snatching the spatula from her fingers, I gave her a taste of her own medicine as I wiped the other side down her face and shoved the end down her top…right between her breasts.
Callie stood there in stunned silence before bursting out into fits of laughter. “You didn’t just shove that between my boobs!”
“I’m going to have fun licking that off…” I said darkly, lowering my head. Tugging her blouse, the top button popped open, and I ran my tongue over the curve of her breasts. “You make a real fucking good ganache, by the way.”
She moaned softly before dipping her finger into the bowl. “Where can I put this? It seems only fair.”
“Wherever you like…” My cock might be a good place to start…
Her other hand went to my fly and started to fiddle with the button, but then she slipped her finger into her mouth and sucked.
“Tease,” I said.
“Did you just pout?” she asked.
“No way.” I puffed out my chest.
“You did! You pouted!”
Grunting, I darted forward and caught her with a kiss. This felt real fucking good. Things were beginning to become easier. I could talk to her, and she seemed to believe me. This could really work. Maybe, just maybe, I could be happy again.
“I went to a job interview yesterday,” she said sheepishly before sucking on her finger again.
My gaze dropped to her lips, and I swallowed hard. “But you already have a job.”
“Hector Vanderhall requested to meet me himself.”
“Hector who?” I frowned. I knew nothing about her world, and it began to bother me. I should pay more attention if I was going to keep her, right?
“He’s a celebrity chef,” she explained. “He’s got restaurants all over the world, has his own line of knives and pots and pans, and he’s been on TV a lot.”
“And he wanted to meet you? That’s great.”
“He saw the Twister cake,” she said.
I smirked and wiped my thumb over the chocolate on her cheek. “Was that the cake inspired by me?”
“The one and only.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled my thumb toward her lips. When she sucked and licked her tongue around the digit, my cock began to twitch.
“Shit, Callie,” I murmured.
“He offered me a job.”
“What?” My head was beginning to spin.
“Hector offered me a job. He wants me to go to Amsterdam and help him set up his new restaurant. I would be in charge of developing the dessert menu.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. She was going away? My heart sank, and it was all I could do not to let it show on my face. It was a great opportunity for her, but where did that leave me?
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, stepping closer. “I’ve got a lot to consider.”
“It’s a great opportunity,” I said, sounding like a robot.
“I don’t know…” Her arms snaked around my waist, her big emerald eyes meeting mine. “It feels like I’m doing the exact thing I was accusing you of.”
I tilted my head to the side. “What’s that?”
“Using the fire as a stepping-stone.”
“They came to you,” I retorted. “You didn’t manipulate the situation to your benefit.”
“Maybe…” Her cheeks flushed pink. “It still feels rotten. I almost died, and you risked your life. Getting a big break off the back of that seems…slimy.”
“Don’t feel like that,” I murmured, smoothing her hair back with my good hand. “It’s a good opportunity. It could really help your business. No one would think badly of you if you took it.”
Fuck, why was I convincing her? Supporting her was the right thing to do, but it felt like shit. This job would take her away from me, and I would be back at square one, only this time, I knew what I was missing.
“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” she murmured, looking forlorn.
Was she regretting being with me? We hadn’t talked about exclusivity or any of that shit. We’d known each other for like a month. That was nothing in the grand scheme of things even though it had been an eventful could of weeks. If she wanted to cut me loose, now would be the time to do it. I didn’t like it. At all. She was forcing me to confront feelings even I didn’t understand yet.
“Mark…” Her fingers hooked under the waistband of my jeans.
Was this how Lori felt when I told her I was leaving for America? If it was, then I hated myself even more than I already did. Was there a word stronger than that? I was such a bastard.
“Mark, please say something,” Callie whispered, starting to panic.
“Amsterdam is a really long way from here.”
Her fingers buried into my hair, and she pulled me close. “I haven’t said yes, you know.”
“It’s not my place to tell you what you should do,” I replied.
“Fuck…” she whispered before placing her lips on mine.
She kissed me softly at first, then as I wrapped my arms around her, she demanded a more specific kind of attention. Opening to me, I deepened our embrace, my breathing picked up as I tasted chocolate on her tongue. We hadn’t slept together since our second date, and my body was humming with a pent-up energy I wanted to pour inside her.
“Callie,” I muttered against her lips. My cock was thickening in my trousers at the thought of having her right here, right now.
“I’m wearing a skirt,” she said breathlessly.
“I see that.” If she was going to leave, then I had to make the most of moments like these, right?
Tightening my grip around her waist, I lifted her onto the empty bench behind us. Her legs parted, and she wrapped herself around my waist and began moving against me as my mouth went back to her cleavage. Opening more buttons, I licked along the edge of her bra before tugging the material down and capturing her taut nipple between my teeth. Biting gently, she arched into me, a moan bursting from her pink lips.
Bunching up her skirt, I tore at her underwear, but I was hindered by the cast on my left arm. She lifted her ass off the bench so I could pull them down, then she greedily undid the button on my jeans.
Rubbing my fingers between her legs, I moaned, thoroughly enjoying spreading her wetness to her clit.
“I’ve never done this before,” she murmured as I freed my erection.
“Done what?” I asked as I rolled on a condom.
“Had sex on my kitchen bench.”
“I hope you’ve got some disinfectant,” I retorted, stroking my shaft. “Your bare ass is on the countertop.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Industrial grade.”
I positioned myself at her opening, and her smile faded as I circled my thumb around her clit. The moment she relaxed, my crown slipped into her, and I couldn’t hold back. I thrust, burying my cock deep into her body. Sliding her forward to the edge of the bench, I pulled out and delved in once more.
I had her hard and fast, and her body quivered violently as she came. The sight of her coming undone in such primal way sent me over the edge before I was ready. My balls flared, and I emptied into her, my right arm cradling her against me as the last of my release ran its course.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her chest heaving against mine. “Zero to obliterated in under five minutes.”
“I usually have more stamina,” I retorted.
“It’s something to do with the level of horniness.” She smirked as I pulled out.
“I’ll say.”
Removing the condom, I found the bin and chucked it in, and by the time I turned around, the air had changed between us. Callie was watching me with an air of sadness…or was it regret? Shit, and my ass was still hanging out.
“Mark, I…”
Her eyes were sad, and I knew she was struggling with her decision. It was the job or me. She didn’t have to say it for me to understand. Did she have to choose? What if I took myself out of the equation? It would make things real easy for her then.
“I’ve gotta go,” I muttered, jerking my boxers and jeans back up.
“Mark…”
“I’ve got shit to do,” I fired back, fixing my fly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I pushed out the back door and into the alley, and she didn’t try to stop me. Not even once.
That night, I went to The Underground.
Two weeks had passed since I’d broken my arm, and I hadn’t been back. Until tonight. Until shit got rough. Seemed like the circle of life where I was concerned.
Leaning against the bar, I sipped absently at my bottle of Corona, ignoring everyone around me, especially Faye who was attempting to rile me up with her inane questions. How’s your arm? Free tonight? That chick is staring at you. I bet she’ll suck your cock then let you do her in the ass. Nothing got a rise out of me tonight. I was too miserable.
Callie’s situation bore a startling resemblance to mine in a way. I was offered a shot at the UFC, seemingly out of the blue, but from there, I knew our paths would be different. She was integrity personified. Her heart was strong, and she was determined to make her way on her own merits.
But even I knew not everyone was an island. Even the most cunning people were done over from time to time, and I was worried for her. Worried or selfish? I couldn’t tell the two apart anymore.
Simply put, I didn’t want her to go, so why couldn’t I say it to her?
Someone sat on the stool next to me, and I tensed. I wasn’t in the mood to let anyone down easily tonight. Glancing out the corner of my eye, I was surprised to see a shock of cobalt blue hair. Turning fully, I looked her over and scowled.
“Lori.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Storm.”
“I haven’t been here in two weeks,” I said. “I never took you for a gambling woman, so who told you?”
“Hamish texted me,” she said with a shrug.
“Now you’re in cahoots.” I rolled my eyes.
“I can see you’ve fallen back into bad habits, or are you still sautéing in them after our last conversation?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring her on purpose. “It’s been what? Almost a year and a half since you vowed not to grace The Underground with your presence?”
“Look who’s keeping count.”
“Is this an intervention?” I drawled.
“Nah.” She waved a hand at me. “It’s a friendly chitchat.”
“About?”
“Callie.”
I scowled and turned back to my beer.
/>
“How are things there? Did you fight?”
“A little,” I muttered.
“And?”
“She believes me.”
“Why are you so shitty about it then?” she asked. “That’s fucking great, you know.”
“She was offered a job in Amsterdam yesterday,” I replied.
“Amsterdam? That’s very specific.”
“Some celebrity chef saw her cakes online.” I shrugged. “He’s opening a new thing there or something. Wants her to develop the desserts.”
“And?” Lori raised her eyebrows, prodding for more information.
“Why are you interested all of a sudden?” I asked, my hackles rising. “I apologized for the other week. I didn’t mean to drag you back here with a vendetta.”
“It’s not a vendetta,” she retorted. “This is going to sound like complete and utter bullshit, but I saw something in you the other day. You’ve changed, Storm. You might be going about it the wrong way, but you care about other people now. That’s a huge deal considering who you used to be.” She turned to face me and smiled. She actually fucking smiled after giving me that awful excuse for a compliment. “I never used to think it was possible. That people could change the core of who they were. I thought you would be a dick for eternity, but deep down, you’re not. You need to stop all this bravado and just be that guy.”
My scowl deepened. I was beginning to understand one thing about myself. I didn’t like taking criticism.
“Your Callie seems like a smart woman,” she went on. “I doubt she would be with you if she couldn’t see over all the walls labeled ‘bastard’ that you’ve put up.”
“Thanks,” I drawled, raising my beer in a mock salute.
“If you don’t want her to go to Amsterdam, then tell her.”
“It’s make or break,” I muttered.
“Seems simple to me,” Lori declared.
“Yeah? Enlighten me.”
“Tell her how you feel.”