I grin. “Then I guess I’d better get my butt back in the kitchen.”
She snags her apron from its hook. “Get to it, lady. I’ll open up and then come spring you at ten when Lucy gets here so you can go home and get some rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” I say, grabbing the empty plate from the table and heading around the counter. “I’ll stay until closing. We’ll get twice as many cakes done cooking together.”
She smiles. “I know I should tell you to go home, but I like being in the kitchen with you.”
“Me too.” I return her grin, trying not to think about the fact that my curving lips very nearly touched Jamison’s.
Things have been weird enough with Jamison. And I don’t want to make them any weirder. Especially since anything like that between Jamison and me would be doomed from the start.
I make a promise to myself as I step into the kitchen—what almost happened this morning between us is never going to almost happen again. Our lips will never meet, and our relationship will never change. We’ll stay just good old friends, the way we’ve always been.
It’s the best choice, the only choice.
But later, when the young woman we hired to work the counter, Lucy, arrives, and Naomi joins me in the kitchen, I can’t deny that the memory of Jamison’s lips moving closer to mine lingers, far more tempting than any Tall, Dark, and Delicious Chocolate Cake.
Chapter Seventeen
Faith
Valentine’s Day is a ridiculous day to lose your virginity.
Just ridiculous.
I know this—and despite the fact that I’m crazy in love and have romantic plans, I still loathe V-Day more than push-up bras and hose testing combined.
It’s just so commercial and cheesy and pink.
So grossly pink.
But I can’t stand the thought of waiting another day to be with Mick. Abstaining for the full month it took for my birth control prescription to become effective is seriously one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.
Ever.
If someone had told me a few months ago I’d be so desperate to pounce a man’s bones I’d be marking off the days until we can sleep together on my fridge calendar with obnoxious little heart doodles, I would have laughed my face off.
But that was BMW—Before Mick Whitehouse.
Mick, with his kisses that drive me wild, his hands that know my body better than I do, and his heart that makes me feel like the most beautiful, interesting, fabulous woman in the world. Despite my rough childhood—or maybe because of it—I’ve always had a solid sense of self-worth, but lately I’ve felt invincible.
With Mick beside me, I can conquer any obstacle, overcome any hardship, scale high mountains in foreign countries with names I can barely pronounce armed only with a backpack, walking stick, and several thermoses of water.
Yeah, we’re planning a trip to Tanzania to climb Mount Kilimanjaro—something we’ve both secretly wanted to do since we were teens—early next year. If all goes as planned, next January 1st we’ll be on our way to Africa to celebrate our one-year anniversary atop the continent’s highest mountain.
It’s going to be an amazing adventure, but nothing compared to the adventure I’ve had already.
In six weeks I’ve gone from lonely and pretty sure Captain Snugglepants was destined to be my only long-term steady date to being in a relationship that makes the world seem wonderful in ways it never has before.
I’m just so happy.
So happy not even spending Friday afternoon listening to Mama insist I need to “sweet talk Mick into proposing before the bloom is off my rose” can sour my spirits.
I simply take a deep breath and shrug off my mama’s crazy at the bakery’s front door. Then I weave my way through the crowd waiting to pick up Valentine’s Day treats with a grin on my face.
I hurry up the stairs, slip the key Mick gave me into the lock and ease inside, immediately feeling at home because this is where the man I love lives and breathes.
I spy him across the room, bent over his desk studying for his first big EMT exam, his curls standing up in a dozen directions because he runs his hands through his hair when he’s thinking, and my chest fills with a delicious, full sensation. And then he turns and smiles my way—clearly thrilled I’m back even though we’ve only been apart a few hours—and the feeling of fullness gets so intense I’m worried it might do internal damage.
God, I love this man.
I love him like nothing else, and I can’t wait to be with him tonight. My fears and nerves are long gone, leaving only a warm assurance that making love to Mick is something I’m never going to regret.
“Hey, sexy.” He rises from his chair, crossing the room to pull me into his arms. “I missed you.”