I clear my throat, but before I can form words, Jasper speaks. “Well, it’s been great catching up with you, Lyndee,” he says, tossing his container in the trash can beside my industrial kitchen island and giving me another smile.
“Whatever,” I mumble, tossing my own trash in the bin and following behind as he heads for the front door. I try to catch my bearings as I reach for the lock, hoping he can’t see the slight tremble in my hand as I give it a turn. “Thank you for dinner.”
He turns around, standing directly in front of me. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll see you around,” I reply quickly, my voice a higher pitch than normal.
He grins. “You definitely will, sweetheart. You definitely will.”
And then he’s leaving, sliding into his incredibly expensive car and pulling away from the curb.
What the hell was that?
How can I let him affect me like that? After all this time? He still has a way of getting under my skin and making me want to rip off my clothes at the same time. Stupid girl. The last thing you need is to get all doe-eyed over Jasper Kohlmann. He’s hot but definitely not my type. I think it’s best to remember that. There’s no future with a man like that.
Besides a few naughty romps in the sheets?
Exactly. That’s all it would ever be, and that’s not what I’m looking for. I want a partner. A man who respects my desire to work and understands the commitment it takes to own and operate my own business. Jasper seems like the type of man who, if he ever settles down, would require his wife to stay home, taking care of the kids and joining the PTA.
Besides, it would never work out. We butt heads too much.
Good thing I’m not interested in him like that.
Keep telling yourself that.
Chapter Eleven
Jasper
When I can’t sleep, I cook, and tonight, I’m wide awake. Sure, I could blame it in part to my insomnia, but I know that’s not entirely the reason. I can’t stop thinking about Lyndee. About the fire that burned in her eyes, right alongside the lust. About the way her breathing hitched when I got close and the fact she stopped breathing altogether when my lips barely brushed against her cheek.
I drove home hard as a rock and remained that way until I took a shower. It was images of her standing beside me or down on her knees that eventually helped take care of the situation with my cock. Only, it was short-lived. The moment I lay down in bed, it was raring to go once again, as I pictured her beside me, my pillows and sheets absorbing her rich, sugary scent.
I’ve been in the kitchen for an hour, baking a pie. With Christmas around the corner, I’m working on a few desserts to offer at the restaurant. No, we don’t sell a lot of them, most patrons filling up on our delicious hamburgers and fries, but we do sell a few of our desserts. I usually make something that’ll keep several days. I change our dessert options often, depending on my mood or the season. Right now, I have a homemade red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, topped with a warm fudge drizzle, but I’m suddenly feeling like switching it up to pie.
Chocolate candy cane pie, to be exact.
Once my creation is in the oven, I set the timer and start washing the dishes. When I cook or bake at home, I use everything. I remember my mom always complaining about it when I was younger and wanting to help out. She spent most of the night washing all the dishes than enjoying the fact she didn’t have to do much to prepare the meal.
With the dishes drying on the rack and having another ten minutes before the timer goes off, I head for the living room. I consider texting one of my friends—they’re used to my random late-night messages—but think better of it. I hate disturbing Walker, now that Mallory and Lizzie live with him, and Isaac sleeps like the dead, rarely waking during my midnight barrages.
Jameson is the one I know will answer. The man sleeps probably as little as I do, though for different reasons. My insomnia keeps me from getting the necessary rest, but for Jameson, it has more to do with his own demons that haunt him.
I fire off a text, even though it’s almost one in the morning.
Me: You awake?
The bubbles appear within seconds.
Jameson: Yep. You cooking?
Me: Baking.
Jameson: Normally, I’d say Isaac will be happy, but he may actually be a little disappointed not to go to the bakery. Of course, he could still pop in there without really needing to, right?
Fucker. Why’d I text Jameson?
Me: Who said you guys are getting any of this?
Jameson: Who else do you bake for? Unless you’re trying to impress a certain woman across the street?
Me: No
Jameson: No? Keep telling yourself that.
Jameson: Is that why your car was there after you got off work?
I sigh, wishing I would have just kept my phone in the other room.
Me: I took her dinner. She was there late, getting ready for tomorrow.
Jameson: You’re such a good guy.
No, I’m really not. Most of the time I fantasized about kissing her.
Jameson: So, how was her first day?
Me: Sold out of a lot of product.
Jameson: Good deal. I hope she’s successful. It’ll be nice having a bakery in downtown. Plus, she’s easy on the eyes. *insert smirk emoji*
Jameson: No comment?
Jameson: Fine, I’ll keep talking.
Jameson: I think you really went over there because you like her and refuse to admit it.
Jameson: I mean who wouldn’t like her? She’s pretty and smart and funny and has the cutest button nose…
Jameson: I bet she doesn’t stay single for long.
Jameson: Maybe I’ll head over there after work. See if she wants to hang out for a bit. You know…*insert smirk emoji* *insert eggplant emoji*
My fingers are already moving before I can even think better of it.
Me: The hell you will! You can’t sleep with her, Tank!
The thought has me seeing red.
Jameson: *insert laughing emoji* *insert laughing emoji* *insert laughing emoji*
Me: I hate you.
Jameson: You don’t. You love me.
Me: What do I do? I can’t stop thinking about her.
Jameson: How should I know? I’m the one in our group NOT in an actual relationship. I have no advice. Unless you want suggestions for positions in the kitchen to keep your ass from freezing on the stainless steel countertop. Otherwise, you need Walker.
I snort out a laugh just as the sixty seconds to go notification sounds on the oven.
Jameson: I guess my only offering would be if you like her, go for it. Life’s too short to settle for midnight baking when you could be enjoying midnight nookie.
Me: Speaking of nookie, no Amie?
Jameson: Not the same. That’s casual. Nothing more.