Page 49 of The Sweetest Risk

Two days too long, Cupcake. I need to see you tonight. It’s not even a want for me anymore.

My heart leaps. As much as I need to see him too, I need to get this done more. This is a really important client for me and I can’t afford any distractions.

Can we take a raincheck? I am probably going to be wiped after I frost the last cupcake.

Three dots appear, then disappear. My stomach sinks a bit, but I literally have to get this done and then I plan on vegging out on the couch and binge-watchGilmore Girlsfor the thousandth time.

About forty minutes later, I am halfway through piping frosting on my cupcakes when someone knocks at my door. I set down the piping bag and run my hands under the sink. I take a kitchen towel and dry my hands as I pass my TV –Lorelai and Rory are in an argument because Lorelai didn’t tell her she was dating again.

I look through the peephole and see Tristan standing outside my door with a bottle of wine and a plastic bag. He is the most determined man on this planet.

I check my appearance in the mirror next to my door. I adjust some rogue strands of hair and wipe some flour off my nose. I am a mess but, to be fair, Tristan’s seen me look a lot worse. Then again, I wasn’t sleeping with him when he saw me at my worst. I exhale and open the door.

Tristan stands there with one arm up on the doorframe, leaning in toward me. Shivers cover my body at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here, Hot Shot? I told you I was…”

“Busy. Yeah, I know.” He kisses me, almost habitually, as he steps into my apartment and makes his way to my kitchen. Heplaces the plastic bag on the one empty space on my counters and takes out two pints of ice cream. Before he can close the freezer, I glimpse the label: Strawberry Cheesecake. My favorite flavor. And he brought my favorite wine…again. This man is spoiling the hell out of me with my favorite things and I am glad he is progressively becoming one of them. He closes the freezer door and shrugs. “I wanted to come help you out. Plus, like I said earlier, I needed to see you.”

He taps my nose, then grabs my chin and presses his lips to mine. The invigorating scent of mint and cedar hijacks my senses. He smiles against my lips. “You taste like chocolate.”

“Well, like I toldyouearlier, I ensured that the cupcakes were up to par.” I grab the bottle of wine. “Is this your master plan? To get me drunk and have your way with me, Lawson?” Secretly, I am not opposed to Tristan having his way with me.

“I would never get you drunk and take advantage of you, Cupcake. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s not really my style.” He sits down on one of my bar stools and assesses my mess of a kitchen.

“I know it’s not. I was joking.” I grab the piping bag and continue to layer icing intricately onto the top of the cupcake. “Are you sure you want to be here, Tristan? I have about thirty more of these to go and then I was just going to chill on the couch and continue watchingGilmore Girls. Super exciting things are happening at the Beckett residence this evening.”

“Anything that involves you in the equation is always exciting in my book.” He hops off the stool, walks around the island and starts washing his hands. “What can I do to help? Do you need me to frost some of these to speed up the process?” He takes the kitchen towel off my shoulder and dries his large, veiny hands. I bite my lower lip and remind myself to calm down. He literally just dried off his hands–that should not elicit such a visceral response from me, but it does.

I laugh off his suggestion to help. “I don’t know if you could frost one of these, Hot Shot. It’s kind of intricate work.”

He closes the gap between us and takes the piping bag from me. “I got steady hands, Cupcake. I thought you knew that by now.” He licks the excess frosting coming out of the bag with an unruly grin.

“Fine.” I grab another piping bag and spatula white icing into the clear bag. “But none ofthattonight, you seducer of women.”

Tristan’s laugh booms in my small apartment. “I’m hardly a seducer of women.”

I snort. “Whatever you say, Hot Shot. I see the way women look at you. They are practically foaming at the mouth.”

“I guess I haven’t noticed. None of them are you, so what’s the point?” He has a serious, focused look on his face as he pipes frosting almost like a pro. His tongue sticks out of his mouth and I smile because he only has that look when he is concentrating really hard on something. He is legitimately trying his best.

He must sense me staring at him, because he stops and shifts his gaze toward me. “Am I doing this right?”

I pretend to inspect the cupcake, which is perfect, and say, “That’s pretty good for an amateur. I approve. You can continue.”

We carry on for about fifteen more minutes. Tristan helps me wash and dry the dishes and get the cupcakes into the containers for transport. After getting the ice cream out and pouring glasses of wine, we make our way onto the couch. I plop down and start rubbing my feet.

“God, my feet are killing me. Those little monsters at school were running rampant today. And then having to bake tonight has really done me in. And I even wore comfortable shoes to work.”

Tristan sets his wine glass on my coffee table. “C’mon, give ’em here.” He taps the top of his lap. When I hesitate, he reachesdown and grabs both of my ankles with one colossal hand and props them on his thighs. He places the perfect amount of pressure on the balls of my feet. I rest my head back against the arm of my couch and say, “Oh my goodness. Do you moonlight as a masseuse or something? That feels so good.” I let out a moan.

“When would I have the time to moonlight as a masseuse? I barely have time to relax during hockey season, and I hardly get a vacation before preseason training starts back up.” His thumb presses into my foot, traveling from my heel to the ball of my foot and I let out a moan again. “And you better stop doing that, Cupcake.”

I grab my glass and take a sip. “Doing what?”

“Moaning like that. Add that to how you look tonight. Talk about me being a seducer. You are being a temptress right now. And I’m trying really hard to be on my best behavior tonight per your request.” He moves on to my other foot and keeps his gaze on the TV.

“Tristan, I am wearing gray sweatpants, a white tank top and my hair is up in a clip. What about this image makes me a temptress?”

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