Page 11 of Sugar for the Mountain Man
“You’re going to make it hard to leave,” I groan under my breath as I drink in a baker’s paradise. Do I want to look in his fridge and see how much space he has in there, too? No, that might be pushing my luck a little too far.
My ears might be playing tricks on me, but I swear I hear the sound of a chuckle leave his lips. He doesn’t tell me I can’t stay, but he doesn’t feed into the joke by offering me his home.
If he did, I really would never leave. Seriously.
Once he’s setting down my ingredients, I don’t waste any time spreading each one out while keeping them grouped together. While I’m working, Wesley grabs a container of fresh mushrooms. They still need rinsing, but I doubt he’s offering to do so.
Instead, he’s staring at them with a pinched expression like he’s trying to figure out if I brought them on accident or not.
“Pastries don’t have to always be sweet,” I explain as I dig through his pots and pans next. The more I pull out, the more I realize how much of a mess we’re going to make by the end of this. It doesn’t take long to familiarize myself, and I kind of make this room my own by the time I’m ready to start cooking.
He should’ve just let me bring him the final product. That’s the amazing part of this. Instead, he wants to see the boring parts, too.
Well, I think he does. For the most part, I feel his eyes stuck to the back of my neck. He’s trailing my movement, all while keeping his distance. Between making me feel like he wants to ask for help, and trying to stay out of my way, I try not to overthink it.
It’s strange having an audience. Thankfully, what I’m doing doesn’t seem to have his attention.
His fingers drum against the marble countertop. He seems rather nervous. Every time I’m near him, he always seems like he’s sitting on edge.
“You look like you’re about to blow up.” While I prepare the ingredients for the first pastry, a half dozen mini quiches. After refreshing my knowledge, I picked some pretty good choices this time around. If I’m right about him not liking sweet things, then these choices are going to hit the spot. “You’re not trying to admit that you’re not a fan of vegetables.”
Wesley sighs at how easily I can read him. “Nothing like that.”
More silence trickles between us, but I don’t push the words out of him. From the pinch in his brow and the curl of his lips, I know whatever he wants to tell me is too serious to start cracking jokes.
“Wesley.” Dragging his name out, I hope to reassure him with a smile. From the sagging of his shoulders, I think it works. “What is it?”
“I need to tell you who I am.” The words leave him like each one weighs more than the last. “I’d hoped coming here, you can see that I’m not just a normal guy.”
Ah.I knew we were going to have to havethatconversation eventually. I kind of hoped it would happen after I made him fall madly in love with me.
“You’re Wesley Haverford,” I tell him as I push around chunks of mushroom. “I know who you are.”
He does a small double-take before his brows come together as he tries to put together how I know his name. I guess I can see why he wouldn’t go telling people it, but I can’t seriously be the only one who knowswhohe is. I mean, I only found out because I stared at his card.
“I, uh, wanted to see if you were on social media so I could do a little extensive research.” Pursing my lips, I take in his panicked expression. “Yeah, your controversies led me down a pretty deep rabbit hole. It’s almost creepy to admit how much Iknow about you. Especially since you don’t really know anything about me.”
I’m not nearly as impressive as this guy. Going to college for a couple of years to get a degree in baking management isn’t very exciting. Especially when I realized that I actually didn’t want to run a bakery. Making food that’s enjoyed has always been my passion. My identity is actually quite boring, in comparison to his.
“Then you know about Michelle.” He leans back like he’s been pushed. “You know about her videos.”
“Sure, I’ve watched them through a few times.” Continuing to cook, I pretend he isn’t staring me down like the weight of the world could crush us both. “Had to scroll past all over her lavish lifestyle vlogs first since, you know, she went viral.”
I don’t tell him the truth. “A couple of times” is a lie. Each time I watched a new part of her story, the more curious I grew.
How can a man she swears is foul enough to sexually harass his personal assistant be the same man who acted afraid to touch me? Last I checked,Ihad to kisshim.
“You don’t believe the videos?” Disbelief fills his voice, but that’s not all. There’s something else choking him.
“If I thought you could be a bad guy, do you think I’d invite you to the bakery late at night?” Scoffing at the very thought, I shake my head. “Sure, it would be nice to hear the truth from your lips, but if I thought you were some evil guy, do you really think I would’ve come all the way up here to knock your socks off with some pastries I’m not even sure you’re going to like?”
He doesn’t laugh with me, not even at how ridiculous it sounds. Instead, he finally chips away at some of the space he’s planted between us.
“You believe I’m innocent.” Like he’s struggling to understand the concept, he asks again.
My next smile comes easier. “I do. Is that really so weird?”
It could be, but it fuels the relief that fills him. What was once a few feet of space now becomes nothing as he finally stands close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him.
