“If I eat another bite, I’m going to have to unbutton my pants.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could pull them back in.
Jasper’s eyes flare with desire, the brown of his eyes turning black as they slowly drop down to my waist. He can’t see behind my apron, but I can feel his imagination running wild, as if he can physically see my pants unfastening.
When his eyes meet mine, humor mixes with lust. “I could help,” he offers easily, his voice low and gravelly. It reminds me of that one time…the time we almost kissed.
Rolling my eyes, I opt to keep this friendly. Mostly because it would be too easy to get sucked into naughty banter with Jasper. With that wicked gleam and devilish smirk, he’s what daydreams are made of. The problem is he knows it too.
“No thank you. I don’t need assistance.”
He tsks. “Too bad. Next time, maybe?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively to punctuate his offer.
I can’t stop the giggle that spills from my throat as I shake my head at his antics.
“So, how about you? What have you been up to for the last ten years?” he asks, finishing off his food in just a few bites.
“Oh, nothing exciting,” I reply, referring to the fact he worked at fancy restaurants, probably making more money in a year than I’ve made in the last five combined.
“I doubt that. We always had different food paths on the horizon, so where did yours lead you?” He’s referring to the known fact he was going places after graduation and I was headed home to bake.
“Home, mostly. I worked at a bakery there until it was sold, and the new owner didn’t share the same vision for the future. My mom had been gone a little while by then, and Dustin and I were looking for a change.”
“Why Stewart Grove?”
“My brother found our condo online. It’s handicap accessible and perfect for his needs. Then, during his search of the town, he discovered this place for sale. Dustin’s stubborn and like a dog with a bone once he sets his mind to something. He knew I wanted to work in a bakery and convinced me to open my own.”
“And how do you feel after your first official day open?” he asks, seeming to be genuinely interested.
“I’m exhausted,” I reply with a chuckle. “We did really well today, which surprised me, considering my only advertising is word of mouth and social media. I sold out of a few things early on, letting me know how I need to make adjustments moving forward. Plus, I took three cake orders for this weekend.”
He awards me with a sincere smile. When he does that, it makes me weak in the knees and a little breathy. “You’re going to be needing to hire more staff before you know it. Maybe even someone who specializes in a certain area, like cake decorating or breads and pastries, so you can focus on what you want. I could put some feelers out for you. I know a lot of people in this town now, a few which are in the industry. I’ll make a few calls and—What?”
I shake my head. “You’re just as bossy now as you were in school,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t take it as an insult.
When he barks out a laugh and shrugs, I realize he knows exactly how pushy he can be. “Guilty. I was just offering to help, but if you don’t want it,” he starts.
“No, I do appreciate it, but I’ve only been open a day. I don’t really know what I’ll need yet. It takes time.”
He watches me, those dark eyes assessing. “True.”
“Besides, I’m not taking too many custom orders right now. I want to focus on selling stock in my case, like pies.”
“Ahhh, yes. Pies.” There’s something in his tone that heckles my nerves.
“Do you have a problem with me selling pies?” I ask, slightly confused on why he’d have an issue. I mean, I own a bakery.
“Oh, no. Not at all,” he sings. “I recall your pies well.”
Then it hits me. “You’re still mad about the pecan pie thing?”
“Thing? You mean you barely edging by my top class grade with your rendition of a pecan pie?” His eyes flare to life with passion and maybe even a touch of anger.
“My pie won me that grade fair and square, buddy. In fact, I’ve won awards for that pecan pie,” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes.
“Fairs and festivals don’t count as winning awards,” he argues, stepping forward and slowly making his way to stand before me. When he does that, I have to look way up, reminding me of how tall he is in comparison to my short five-foot-two-inch stance.
I stand tall, refusing to let him affect me in any way. “I’ll have you know; my pie was featured in Foodie News!”
He snorts. “Like that’s a big deal,” he replies, even though we both know it is. Foodie News is a leader in both print and online food-related news all over the world. That feature was the highlight of my career, thus far.
“You’re just jealous because you lost to a little ol’ girl and didn’t get the top grade. I bet that’s been a thorn in your side ever since,” I retort, realizing I’m poking the bear with a very big stick.
Fire blazes in his eyes as he glares down at me. Though, it’s not a fear-inducing look. In fact, the way my body burns, I’d say it has the exact opposite response. Jasper takes one more step forward until we’re practically chest to chest. He leans down just a touch and whispers, “I haven’t thought about it since.”
I can’t stop the snort that erupts from my body like Mount St. Helens. “Clearly,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes so dramatically, there’s no missing the fact I don’t believe him.
His eyes narrow into little slits as he focuses on my…lips.
My lips?
“Do you ever thing about that almost kiss?” he whispers, his words coming out in little pants.
All the time.
“What kiss?” I ask, barely breathing as he inches ever so slowly toward my face, his lips drawing closer and closer with each passing second.
Jasper smirks, clearly not believing my reply for a second. “No? Not at all, like when it’s late at night and you’re in bed? Or maybe in the shower and all alone?” He lifts his hand and brushes hair off my forehead, his warm touch lingering against my flushed skin.
“No,” I croak out, my throat parched and gravelly.
He tsks, the smirk turning into a full-watt smile. It’s breathtaking, really. I’ve never known a smile to be that beautiful, that mesmerizing. He leans down, his full lips dangerously close to my own, and I suck in a deep breath of oxygen.
Is he going to kiss me?
He moves slightly to the right, tucking loose hair from my ponytail behind my ear. His lips barely brush against my cheek, igniting a deep-burning inferno in my gut. Jasper holds my hair, his thumb making contact with my neck and sending shivers of lust bolting through my body. His hot breath tickles the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Liar.”
It takes a few seconds before I can clear the sex-infused fog from my brain and consider his word. When it hits me, I jump back, inhaling a greedy breath of air and narrowing my eyes even more. “Am not,” I argue lamely, wishing my nipples weren’t hard and poking through my top.
Jasper stands up to his full height and gives me a self-satisfying grin. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart.”