When he comes inside, he tells me he’ll be right back before his broad shoulders disappear around a corner just off the kitchen. I pick up LeFou when he appears at my feet and cuddle him against my chest as I take the moment alone to explore Gaston’s living room.
There are only a few photos on the stand below the TV, and I assume the one with him and a beautiful older woman who’s smiling hugely at the camera while he laughs down at her is Gaston and his mom. In another photo a man—most likely his dad, since they look alike—is surrounded by three beautiful women, and the youngest two are kissing his cheeks. The other woman, who’s obviously their mom, has her arms wrapped around his neck from behind and her chin resting on the top of his head, smiling softly. I can tell by the look in his dad’s eyes that he was happy, he was loved, he was living his best life, and there was nowhere he’d rather be than with his family. I’m glad he got to experience that kind of happiness and love before he passed away. The last photo is a shot of an old woman who’s standing at a stove, stirring something in a pot that looks almost as big as her. Her gray hair is up in a tight bun, and her plump body is encased in a formfitting green dress with a white apron tied around her waist.
I stare at that photo the longest, because I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen my own grandmother in that exact position. Anytime I went to visit her, she was in the kitchen, cooking something or baking some kind of sweet treat. She was the best; she never complained when I wanted to help. Instead, she’d smile and tell me to get my stool, and then she’d give me a job, and I’d work along with her. I know if she were alive today, she’d be in my shop helping me, and I would love every second of having her around. Actually, I’d relish it.
I finish my perusal of the living room, and just when I’m heading back toward the kitchen with LeFou still in my arms, Gaston reappears. He’s no longer wearing the jeans he had on but has changed into navy-blue slacks that show off his amazing thighs and a fitted button-down shirt that’s tucked in, emphasizing his muscular torso. He has a fancy belt around his hips and shiny shoes on his large feet. He looks every bit the businessman he is. He also looks way too gorgeous and seriously out of my league.
Our eyes lock from across the room, and I stand in place, stuck in some kind of trance. He comes toward me, taking his dog from my arms and placing him on the ground.
“I should wait to kiss you good night until after I’ve walked you to your door, but I’m feeling a little greedy,” he tells me, and my breath catches as he once again palms the back of my head and lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss is just as hot as the one we shared earlier—maybe even hotter, which seems impossible. I melt into him, and my lips part, allowing him to sweep his tongue across mine. He tastes like mint and beer—a combination that is uniquely him.
The kiss deepens, and I cling to him so I don’t fall on my face. When he slowly pulls away, I’m in such a daze I don’t even think as he grabs my bag and coat. I just follow him out of his apartment with my hand held firmly in his and get into the elevator.
When we reach my floor, he hands me my purse, and even as I find my keys and unlock the door to my place, my mind is still buzzing, which means I can hardly remember my name when he kisses me again. As he pulls away once more, he promises to see me tomorrow before handing me my coat with a cocky grin, telling me softly to lock up before leaving, and then closing the door as he goes.
I stare at the closed door with my bag and coat in my hand, and my heart beats wildly in my chest. Still drunk on his kiss, I know I really need to talk to Leah. At this point, I don’t care that she’s away on her honeymoon. Tomorrow, I’m going to call her.
With that thought in my head, I walk into my living room, drop my stuff on the chair, and then go to my bedroom to strip out of my clothes. I don’t take a bath; I just crawl into bed, where I think of Gaston, his kindness, his cute little dog, and the way he makes me feel before I fall asleep.
Suggestion 6
FIND YOUR HAPPINESS
CHRISSIE
With a cup of coffee in one hand, I open the fridge to try to figure out what to make myself for breakfast. Unlike my bakery, which is always stocked with everything I could possibly need, my fridge at home is mostly empty. I have a carton of egg whites, a few pieces of turkey, and some cheese. With no other options, I decide on an egg white omelet, making a mental note to stop at the grocery store after I close down the shop tonight.
I take a sip of coffee, then set down my coffee cup and grab a pan to place on the stovetop to warm up. Just as I start to pour the egg whites into the now-hot pan, there is a knock at the door, and a sudden thrill runs down my spine.
I touch my wet hair and glance down at my short kimono-style robe, under which I’m wearing nothing, then look toward the door, debating what to do. I can guess who it is, since no one ever stops by without calling, especially not this early. There’s only one person I know who’d have a reason to be up right now.
Three more knocks come in a row, so I tighten the belt around my waist and try to calm my suddenly pounding heart. I check the peephole and swallow hard as I unlatch the locks and let Gaston in.
My focus zeroes in on the two paper coffee cups and the brown paper bag he’s carrying, and the scent from the bag makes my stomach grumble. It smells delicious, like eggs, bacon, and fresh-baked pastries. If he brought me food, I might just ask him to marry me.
“Sorry, I’m not dressed yet,” I say, but his eyes aren’t anywhere near my face. No, they’re riveted on my robe and legs—mostly my legs. “Um, I’m just going to put something on.” My cheeks feel warm as his gaze slowly wanders up my body and then over my face and wet hair.
“You’re stunning, seriously fucking stunning, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” I bite the inside of my cheek. His dark eyes track up and down me once more, causing my nipples to pebble and my core to tighten. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man look at me with so much desire; it’s a heady feeling.
“Please don’t rush to get dressed on my behalf.”
I’m pretty sure that if I don’t put something on and he keeps looking at me like he is, I’m going to jump him, and I don’t think that would be a very good idea, so I say, “I’ll be back. Make yourself comfortable.” I rush for my bedroom, then skid to a stop when I remember I left the stove on. I make a beeline for the kitchen, turn off the burner, and move the pan into the oven to cool.
I spin around after slamming the oven door shut and crash right into a hard body. A spark of excitement rushes through me as warm hands capture my waist, and without thinking, I lift my hands to his chest, then slide them up to his shoulders—not to push him away, but just to hold on.
“I need to get dressed.” I lick my bottom lip, causing his eyes to drop to my mouth, and I shiver when his hands slide farther down my back, pulling me closer against his muscular torso.
“Why’s that?” he asks, his voice husky. The deep, growly sound and the feel of the silky material of my kimono sliding up the backs of my thighs and bottom as he bunches it in his fists make me instantly wet.
“I don’t have panties on,” I whisper, and he groans, brushing his lips softly over the top of mine before moving them to my neck. “I don’t think it’s very appropriate for me to be walking around my kitchen with you here without anything on under this scrap of material.”