Mary let out a long sigh. “Do you really want this, Sena?”
I blanched. “Of course, I do. I just need time. I want to make the right choice.” And it wasn’t just me who this decision affected.
“Okay. Call me after the holidays, and we can plan a trip for you out here. I really think you’d be a good fit. If we need to negotiate your offer, I’m open to that too.”
“Thanks, Mary. I’ll call as soon as the holidays are over,” I promised. We both hung up, and Adam pulled out his binder of recipes.
“I thought we could start with a traditional sugar cookie. I’ve compared three recipes, and the consistency of this one bakes evenly, but the taste of this one was voted superior in a baking contest.”
I let out an exhale. “I vote the one that tastes better,” I replied.
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Adam replied before carefully pulling out a laminated sleeve from the binder and setting it on the counter. I grabbed my apron and put it on, prepared for a day of very meticulous baking, when my doorbell rang.
“Who is that?” Adam chirped while measuring flour.
“Not sure,” I replied with a shrug before going to the front door to answer it.
Standing in the hallway was probably my favorite version of Vaughn. He was wearing casual jeans and a corded black sweater, and two coffees from my favorite café down the street were clutched in his fists.
“Vaughn? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I hadn’t heard from you since our date. Figured I’d stop by and see if you’d like to grab lunch,” he explained with a sheepish shrug. I was about to tell him that Adam and I were baking when my best friend called for me.
“Sena! I need you to crack the eggs. You know I hate the texture, and the thought of salmonella makes me anxious.”
“I’ll be right there!” I called over my shoulder.
“Adam?” Vaughn asked with a smile. They had met a couple of times, but they hadn’t spent too much time together.
“We’re baking cookies,” I explained with a smile.
“Great. I love cookies,” Vaughn said before pushing past me and walking inside. Well, okay then. I followed after Vaughn, catching up with him just in time to see Adam eyeing an egg with his lip curled in disgust. Vaughn cleared his throat. “I’ll crack the eggs.”
Adam stared at me, then back at Vaughn. Then at me again. And then back to Vaughn. “Hello, Vaughn,” Adam said while tilting up his chin. “Are you going to help us make cookies?”
Vaughn looked at me and smiled. “If that’s okay with Sena?”
I inhaled. “Yeah. I guess it’s a party.”
“You can’t just eat the batter, Vaughn!” Adam scolded while swatting at Vaughn’s hand. I was scooping dough onto a pan and giggling to myself. Vaughn had no idea what he was getting himself into when he agreed to bake cookies with us. Adam took baking very seriously. It was like a giant chemistry experiment to him.
“Half the fun is eating the batter,” Vaughn whined.
“It won’t be fun when you get dehydration from irritable bowels and salmonella,” Adam snapped.
Every surface of my kitchen was covered in treats. Adam liked to bake for all of his coworkers. He made them fill out a literal spreadsheet with all of their allergies, likes, and dislikes. He went all out on gift baskets and organized them by color and flavor pallet. It was kind of insane but extremely thoughtful.
Vaughn walked up to me and bumped my shoulder. “How many more cookies do we have to make?”
“Four dozen more,” Adam replied. “And some bread pudding. And homemade cinnamon rolls. We need more flour and sugar. I thought I measured correctly…” I didn’t dare tell him that I messed up and added the wrong amount to a batch of sad looking cookies. “I’m going to buy more. Please don’t let him stick his fingers in anything while I’m gone. Actually, just stop baking all together. I don’t trust the two of you not to mess it up.”
I stopped scooping the dough onto the pan, relieved for a break. “That’s fine with me.” I was worn out and ready to rest.
Adam peered at Vaughn. “I’m going to the market by my house. It’s approximately an eighteen-minute walk from here. It’ll take me six minutes to grab the ingredients and check out, then another twenty minutes back. I am accounting for the weight of my grocery bags and tiredness. That gives you forty-two minutes to have sex before I get back.”
Vaughn had just taken a sip of his coffee and started choking on it. My eyes widened, and it took all the strength I had not to launch for my best friend and strangle him. Vaughn coughed. “Good to know,” he finally said.
“Stay away from my cookies,” Adam said before going out the front door.
Removing my apron, I let out a huff. “Sorry about that,” I said before walking toward the living room.
“He’s the best. I can see why you’re friends. Although I’m probably never signing up for baking again…”
I laughed while plopping down on my couch. Vaughn sat down beside me and started massaging my neck. I nearly moaned at his skilled fingers. “Somehow, Adam and I kind of became a package deal over the years. He’s determined to go with me to San Francisco if I move,” I explained, hoping that we could actually talk about this. I needed to explore how Vaughn felt.
“Do you think he’d be happy there?”
I honestly didn’t know. “Maybe? He’s adaptable. He keeps sending me apartments to look at and facts about the city. But his career is here, you know?”
“And what about you?” Vaughn asked. “Do you think you would be happy there?”
I let out an exhale. “Mary’s publication is really awesome. It’s in a new space I’d like to explore, and I’d have a lot of decision-making power. Her offer is really good. But…”
“But what?”
“But it’s not New York. You’re not there. Adam isn’t there. I think I’m just scared of giving it up for you. What if we don’t work out? What if once the fear of losing me wears off, you lose interest? What if—”
Vaughn cut me off with a kiss. He threaded his hands through my hair and tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth. I moaned as he pushed me down onto the couch and started pulling at the band of my leggings. He broke our kiss to whisper in my ear. “We’re going to work out, Sena. I’m not going to lose interest.”
He kissed my neck. My collarbone. As he sunk lower and lower, I wiggled until his head was poised between my legs. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a rasp.
With a devilish grin, Vaughn started pulling down my leggings. “I’m about to eat something sweeter than Christmas cookies, baby.”
“Oh. You don’t have to do that—”
“Shh. I have”—Vaughn checked his watch—“thirty-two minutes to make you come on my tongue. Do you want this?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered.
“Good. No more talking unless you’re screaming my name.”
Chapter 7
I smoothed my skirt for what felt like the thirtieth time today. When Vaughn invited me to Christmas Eve with his mother, I thought he was joking. She lived in a penthouse in the Upper East Side and was known for throwing luxurious holiday parties. I’d hoped that my prior plans would get me out of it, but Adam had been team Vaughn lately. He had a theory that if I was getting daily orgasms, then I wouldn’t move to San Francisco.