Baking Lessons

by Katie Allen

  * * *

  Sliding the cupcakes out of the oven, she slipped the thermometer probe into the center of one as she craned her neck to look at the time. It was two minutes to six, and this was the last batch of cupcakes to bake. The thermometer read 207 degrees, and Leah smiled grimly. It had been a heck of a morning, but she’d pulled it together and finished in time.

  Putting the cupcakes on the rack to cool, she pulled off her gloves and turned off the last oven. After switching her apron for a clean one, she headed to the front, tying the strings behind her back. She grabbed the front door key from the register and circled the counter.

  A dark figure stood outside. Leah’s heart stuttered as she lurched to a stop. The figure took a step closer, and she recognized Hamilton. Hurrying toward the door, she unlocked it, her still-shaking fingers making it difficult. Her heart was pounding from the surge of adrenaline, and she took a deep breath, trying to convince her body that the scare was over. It seemed like an overreaction. Maybe the whole situation with Jude was making her jumpy.

  Shoving the door open, she smiled at him. Even though he hadn’t texted, and he’d just startled the life out of her, it was still so nice to see him. “Hey.”

  Giving her a short nod in response, he walked toward her. She automatically backed up until the edge of the counter dug into her back. He kept coming, pressing his body against hers, and she arched her neck so she could see his face. Catching the back of her head in his hand, he leaned down and kissed her.

  Immediately, she was lost in him. All it took was the contact of his lips on hers, and everything disappeared, leaving only Hamilton. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was thorough, and her mind was spinning by the time he pulled away with the tiniest smug smile.

  Reality snapped back in place, and she gave him a little shove. “Where have you been, mister?”

  “Cleaning up a flooded building.” He released her, stepping back enough to let her move around him. She started going through the opening routine on autopilot, plugging in the open sign, and turning on the lights and the background music. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rub a hand over his face. He looked more exhausted than she felt. “It was a mess.”

  “Hmm.” After seeing him, all her irritation had immediately—and annoyingly—vanished. “Did you lose your phone?”

  His hand went to his pocket, as if checking for it. “No.”

  Since subtlety was obviously not working, she put her hands on her hips and just asked, “Why didn’t you call?”

  He looked confused. “Call you?”

  “Yes! Call me. Or just send me a text. It would’ve taken two minutes.”

  He’d gotten a wary look, as if he suspected he was walking through a field of land mines. “Why?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again, not sure how to answer. She’d expected him to offer excuses or apologize or something, not to ask why. “To let me know you wouldn’t be coming over yesterday.” It sounded weak, though. She didn’t have to go to the bakery on Sundays, so he didn’t need to walk with her. He didn’t need to account for every second of his time. They weren’t even dating, not really. “Never mind. Sorry. I’m just tired and cranky. I didn’t sleep well.”

  “Why not?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him that the bed felt empty and lonely, not after he’d just reminded her that he didn’t owe her a text. “Not sure. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to stop in before work, make sure everything was okay.”

  “Work?” Her gaze ran over him. If he hadn’t distracted her by sticking his tongue in her mouth first thing, then she would’ve noticed he was wearing a suit and dress coat, and his stubble was freshly shorn. She was tempted to run her hand over his jaw and cheek, to feel the temporary smoothness of his shaven face, but she knew that would just lead to more kissing, and customers would be wandering in soon, looking for their early morning dose of caffeine and sugar. “It’s early, isn’t it?”

  “I get more done when I’m alone in the office. No one’s bothering me with questions or emails.”

  She was tempted to ask him to stay for a while, but she swallowed the request. Their earlier discussion about him not calling or texting her yesterday was niggling at her, reminding her that they were seeing this relationship or near-hookup or sort-of-friends deal or whatever it was differently. They needed to discuss things, but now wasn’t the time. She held out her hand toward him, feeling a warm squeeze of her chest when he immediately caught it in his own.

  “You’ll need some treats for work, then.” Giving his hand a tug, she towed him around to the other side of the counter. “The first batch of mini-cupcakes are probably ready to be iced. Do you want to bring enough for your coworkers?”

  “No.”

  She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Greedy bastard.”

  “They’re my cupcakes.” He stopped by the kitchen door and pulled her against him. Even though his coat and suit jacket and shirt and her top and apron were between them, her whole front buzzed with sensation, her skin prickling like his bare chest was pressed to hers. Tipping his head forward, he buried his face in her neck, and his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “You baked them for me. You put extra frosting on for me.” She hadn’t realized he knew she deliberately put more frosting on his cupcakes. She couldn’t help herself. When it came to frosting, he was so entranced and appreciative. He was the only person she knew who was as in love with frosting as she was. His hands slid to her hips, and he pulled her tightly against him, making her gasp. “They’re mine.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was a little shaky, but she was impressed she could talk at all with Hamilton pressed against her. “So let me go put extra frosting on your cupcakes.”

  Instead of releasing her, he tugged her apron strap and T-shirt aside, leaving her shoulder bare except for her bra strap. His teeth nipped her, making her jump as an electric jolt shot from that spot all the way down to her pussy, and then he sucked. Her hips moved of their own volition, jerking against his, rubbing against his hard bulge as she wished the bakery and all their clothes would disappear.

  Instead, he lifted his head and shifted her shirt and apron back into place.

  “What was that?” Her voice was hoarse as she touched her shoulder. “Did you just give me a hickey?”

  His mouth turned up at the corners in a very proud, smug way. “Yes.”

  She lightly punched him on the arm even as she laughed. “I haven’t had a hickey since I was fifteen and had to wear a turtleneck in August to hide it from my grandma.”

  “That’s why I did it here.” His hand ran over her shoulder and down her arm in a slow caress that made Leah’s knees get all jellylike. “So no one would see it, but we’d both know it was there.”

  “Caveman.” She didn’t really mind, though. As long as customers couldn’t see it, she kind of liked knowing that his mark was on her body. “Can I give you one?”

  “Yes.” His answer was quick and his gaze got so intense that her insides melted into a hot, sticky puddle.

  Her eyes traced over him, thinking of all the places she’d like to nip and suck and kiss and—

  The doorbell rang, and she stifled a frustrated moan. “Be right there!” Turning back to Hamilton, she said quietly, “Rain check on that. Now go grab the cupcakes on the far right of the cooling rack, the bowl of frosting, and a small spatula, and I’ll ice some for you to take to work.” She gave him a teasing look. “Just for you, though, so no sharing.”

  “Extra frosting?”

  “Of course.” Surreptitiously reaching under his open coat, she pinched his ass, making him jump. Before he could retaliate, she booked it toward the counter.

  “I’ll get you for that,” he called after her, and she held back a giggle.

  “Good morning!” she said to the older couple waiting at the counter. “What
can I get you?”

  As she poured their coffee, she hummed along with the background music. After Hamilton’s arrival, she didn’t feel at all tired anymore.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The day flew by. Leah marveled that if just a kiss and a hickey from Ham was enough to leave her in a happy cloud for hours, actual sex with him was going to blast her off into space. She restocked the napkin dispensers, humming happily, when the doorbell sounded.

  “Ham!” She couldn’t stop a huge grin from spreading over her face when he walked in the door. “What are you doing here? I brought my car today, so I don’t need an escort home.”

  He gave a small shrug, his mouth doing that tilting-up-at-the-corners thing that Leah was starting to think of as his secret public smile. The man acted like he got fined by the emotion police for every facial expression. “I thought we could have dinner at my place again tonight.”

  “That sounds great.” Her smile grew even more. Maybe tonight she’d finally get to feel him inside of her. A buzz of arousal made her clench her thighs together, and she forced herself to focus on their conversation. “Do you want to meet up there? I’ll be closing in fifteen, and then it’ll take me about another half hour to clean up and shut everything down.”

  “I’ll stay and help.” He walked around the counter as a customer entered. Her stomach bubbling with excitement, Leah tore her gaze off of Hamilton and turned to the approaching woman. Before she could greet her, Hamilton placed a hand on her hip and held her still while he brushed his lips against her temple. Releasing her with a pat, he headed into the kitchen, and Leah couldn’t keep herself from watching him go.

  “Oh, he’s cute,” the customer said, and Leah dragged her attention away from the door that Hamilton had just disappeared through. The woman wiggled her eyebrows up and down, making Leah laugh.

  “A little too cute, sometimes.” The customer looked doubtful, but Leah just shrugged instead of explaining. “What can I get you?”

  The woman bought a couple of loaves of bread and walked out of the store, leaving it empty except for Leah—and Hamilton in the kitchen. She was dying to join him back there, but she forced herself to stay up front, in case any last-minute customers popped in. Besides, she really did want to stick to the no-sexy-times-in-the-kitchen rule.

  Glancing over the very few remaining loaves and pastries, she smiled. Mondays tended to be slow, but today had been nice and steady. Hamilton would have a light box of leftovers tonight, but he’d survive—especially since she was hoping to offer a different kind of sugar. Her body flushed with heat at the thought, but she pulled herself up short. First they’d talk, so Leah could figure out what was happening in their odd, undefined relationship. Once that was done, maybe they could have fun.

  She hummed happily as she grabbed the spray bottle of disinfectant and a clean towel. Since no one was here, she might as well start cleaning up. The quicker she finished the closing tasks, the sooner she and Hamilton could go up to his loft, where they’d be alone. Her skin warmed again, and she smacked down her anticipation. Calm down, she warned her giddy self. Saturday had been so disappointing. She couldn’t get her hopes up until she knew that things were really happening.

  As she wiped off the tables and chairs, she couldn’t stop her excitement from poking through the wet blanket she tried to contain it with. She was bursting with it, and even started swaying to the beat of the background music. Dancing over to the register, she started wiping down the counter when the doorbell sounded.

  Of course a customer shows up right at closing, she thought, just knowing that it would be a struggle to get them to leave. That seemed to be the rule when she wanted to sneak out early—there was always something or someone that stopped it. Turning, she forced a smile, but it dropped away when she saw who’d just entered.

  Jude.

  Swallowing a groan, she moved behind the counter. Jude wasn’t a big guy, but she still felt better with a physical barrier separating them. “Can I help you, Jude?” She kept her voice steady and impersonal as possible, even though she wanted to throw something at him for all the annoyances he’d caused in the past week.

  He was silent as he walked, hands stuffed in his coat pockets and body hunched in on itself, up to the counter. Leah resisted the urge to dart for the kitchen. His face was pale, his eyes boring into her as if he was trying to dig into her brain, and it was freaking her out. Her gaze darted to her bag as she wondered if she should grab her cell phone and call Officer Castillo, or if she should just shout for Hamilton. She’d hate for him to get in trouble for doing something to Jude, though. Hamilton had been inconvenienced enough by Jude’s behavior.

  “Jude, what do you want?”

  He didn’t say a word, just continued to stare at her with that disturbing look on his face.

  She raised her voice, trying to make it carry to Hamilton in the kitchen without it being obvious that she was calling for help. “Why are you here, Jude?”

  “Why did you...?” The words burst out of him before trailing off, and he visibly swallowed. His skin was so pale there was a green cast to it, and sweat soaked his hairline. Leah wondered if he was sick—physically sick. “You told my sister that I lied.”

  “You did lie.” Her voice shook slightly, and she resisted the urge to look at the door to the kitchen. Had Hamilton heard her? If he had, what was taking him so long? Had he gone upstairs to his loft? The thought made her lungs tighten. If he had, she was alone in the bakery with her stalker—and that stalker looked like he was losing it.

  “I didn’t lie!” His voice rose to a shout on the last word, and Leah jerked back a step. She instantly regretted it. Even though it moved her farther away from Jude, her cell was now out of reach, as was the bakery landline phone mounted on the wall next to the cappuccino machine. Easing closer to the counter again, she tried to slow her quick, nervous breaths as her heart pounded.

  “Yes, you did.” Despite her best efforts at keeping her voice calm, her words still shook. It was crazy, but she was in a yes-you-did/no-I-didn’t argument with her stalker like they were a pair of five-year-olds. “You told her we’ve been dating for months. You said that I cheated on you. Those things aren’t true.”

  The muscles along his jaw worked, making him look even more alien. “I was in here every day, Leah. Every day for months. We’d talk for hours, and you’re trying to say we weren’t in a relationship?” He was shouting again, and she resisted the urge to retreat. Stay close to the phone, she reminded her ready-to-flee brain. “I told you everything about my life, and you threw it all away because I came in the wrong door one time?”

  Her mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do, not knowing if she should try to talk him out of his delusion or if she should play along. Both seemed risky and fairly hopeless. What she needed to do was to get away from him. Hamilton still hadn’t come up front, so she accepted that he was probably upstairs, oblivious to the drama happening in the bakery. It was up to her to get away from him. He was on the other side of the counter, so that would eat up a few seconds and give her a tiny head start. She needed her bag, though, so she could call for help once she got away.

  “It wasn’t because you came in the back door,” she said slowly, trying to distract him as she pressed her hips against the edge of the counter. The strap of her bag was almost within reach of her fingers. She’d just need to bend her knees and dip down slightly, and she’d be able to grab it. “It was because you were acting strangely and wouldn’t leave. You’re a customer, Jude. That’s all, and you’re starting to scare me.”

  “I’m not just a customer!” He was screaming now. “You can’t just dismiss me like that.”

  At his wide, wild eyes, she knew the time for talking was over. She needed to run. Grabbing her bag, she whirled around and darted for the kitchen door. She hit the swinging door with full speed, breaking into the silent, empty kitchen. Even
though she’d been fairly certain that Hamilton wasn’t in there, his absence hit her hard. A small part of her had still been hoping that he’d save her, but it looked like she was on her own.

  Dodging around the center table, she bolted for the back door. The kitchen, which usually felt so roomy and open, now felt like a maze—one that ended in a trap. The swinging door made the light thump sound when it closed again, and Leah knew her tiny lead was closing. She forced herself not to waste precious seconds looking behind her, but it was a struggle. Knowing that he was behind her but not knowing where, or if his hand was about to grab her, was a nightmare brought to life.

  Somehow, she managed to keep her gaze fixed on her goal—the back door. She sprinted past the cooler and the flour bins, never looking away from the exit—her route to safety. It got closer and closer, until finally her palms smacked against the metal door. She fumbled with the first of the two dead bolts, twisting it open, and then she reached for the other.

  She was too slow.

  Hard hands grabbed her upper arms, yanking her back, away from the door and freedom. She screamed, swinging her elbow back. It connected, and she heard him grunt as he lost his grip on one of her arms. Satisfaction that she’d hurt him—at least a small bit—made the agony radiating from the point of impact up and down her arm worth it. Ignoring the pain, she yanked her arm forward, preparing to elbow him again.

  His arm looped around her neck, and then something cold and hard pressed against her temple. She’d never felt anything like it before, but she immediately, instinctively knew what was digging into the side of her head.

  It was a gun.

  She went still at the realization. Struggles seemed pointless and possibly deadly now. All she had were her fists and feet and elbows, and her untrained body was no match for a gun—especially a gun in Jude’s hands. Keeping the muzzle flush against her skull, he turned her to face the kitchen.