Make It Sweet

by Kristen Callihan

“Lemons remind me of happiness.” “Happiness,” Lucian repeated, as though baffled. “I don’t know how else to explain it.” I shrugged with a small laugh. “I smell lemons, and I feel happy. Hopeful.”

Someone put all their skill and care into something that wasn’t meant to last but was to be enjoyed in the moment. In return, I felt cared for too.

“Just because all good things must come to an end doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to mourn them.”

“She loved the fruit as well,” Sal said, cutting into my thoughts. He smirked, munching on the cracker. “Though you can hardly take credit for that.” Watch me, buddy. I’d picked that fruit, cleaned it, sliced it at just the right thickness. That was my fruit. Every bite she’d put in her mouth, every moan of pleasure she’d made, had been because of me. And fuck, that turned me on so badly my hands shook.

“Plotting your next form of culinary seduction, are we?”

“Give it up. You’re all marshmallow on the inside, Oz. No one who bakes the way you do could possess anything other than a sweet heart.”

“That woman is the type you keep.” Forever. “I’m not in the market for that. And trust me; she’s not in the market for what I have to offer either.”

he made me laugh, even when he was pretending to be a grump.

“If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll stay out of your way for the rest of your visit. Regardless, I want you to feel safe, so can I explain something?”

I won’t lie and say I’m a stranger to violence.” He didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate to meet my eyes. “But you? You could slap me, punch me, kick me in the nuts, call me names, disparage Mamie, whom I love more than anyone on Earth, and I still wouldn’t ever raise a hand to you. Because I don’t hit women or anyone weaker than me. Ever.” He stopped there, his concerned gaze darting over my face. “I apologize that my behavior made you feel unsafe. It wasn’t my intention. If you believe anything about me, believe I will always be the guy who stands with you, never against you.”

I was still recovering from the shock of him actually inviting me to do something with him, but I shook it off. Because wherever he was, I wanted to be, which should have terrified me, but it weirdly made me feel stronger.

But when Lucian and I were together, I felt wholly myself, not the “everything is perfect; keep moving along” front I projected to the world.

I could no more keep away from her now than I could stop breathing.

Her body. It was insanely cute,

Emma was slim and fit, but nothing short of starvation was getting rid of that ass and those thighs, thank the Lord.

Anytime I looked at her mouth for too long, I wanted to kiss it. Hell, anytime I thought of her mouth, I wanted to kiss it.

I wanted her to feel free and easy with me. But I’d smashed the foundation of our budding . . . whatever it was. I could blame only myself. I would rebuild it, though. It had become imperative to me in ways I didn’t really want to examine.

I was beginning to realize I’d take her anywhere she wanted. Whatever she needed, I’d do my best to provide. It was unsettling as hell, but some things weren’t worth fighting against.

I liked Emma, but I loved the way she teased.

If you ask, I’ll hold you. I won’t let go until you feel safe again. Ask me, Em.

“Bees make honey, Em.” I nudged her again, hard enough to rock her and make her squeak with a laugh. “And you seem intent upon making me sweet.”

“Snoopy, honeybee . . . I’m not certain I like that you have so many names to tease me.” Lie. I loved it. But he didn’t need to know that. Lucian, however, got that gleam back in his eyes, even though he kept them on the road. “Put Brick back into the rotation, and we’ll be even.”

Under the table, Lucian’s foot touched the side of mine. Support. In the smallest of ways, and yet it felt like everything.

“Life doesn’t remain the same. It shifts and turns, and we must shift with it. Which isn’t a bad thing. How boring would it be to never see any change?”

“Failure is simply opportunity in disguise. I do not know of a single success story that did not have its share of failures along the way. We try, we grow, sometimes we fail. You either crumble and stop living life, or you pick yourself up and use the experience to set a new course.”

I knew that if any man needed to live life to the fullest, it was him. More unsettling was the fact that I wanted to be there when he did.

I was so gone on this man. It wasn’t even funny.

“Don’t be such a prude.” “If you knew what was running through my mind, you’d never accuse me of being a prude.”

“Em, if you’re naked in front of me, there’s going to be touching.”

Feeding Emma somehow fed my soul as well.

A honey pie, lovingly made. The tiny sugar bee, still perched on the edge of the flaky crust, mocked me. That little bee nibbling on her honey pie.

My grumpy man with the ability to create sweetness in the most unexpected of ways.

“Honeybee, I’ll make you anything you want.”

“But I have a suspicion he’d take it to mean I was interested.” “And you’re not.” I couldn’t bring myself to frame it as a question. It was hard enough imagining. If she was, I’d . . . fuck if I knew. Go cry somewhere, probably.

Did I prefer to be the one driving? Actually, no. This way I had the perfect excuse to watch Emma as long as I wanted. It was a better view than the Pacific coast outside my window. By far.

He prefers being the passenger princess 🫶🏼

I heard Delilah and Emma talking, Delilah telling us to make ourselves comfortable. On the bed? The one fucking bed? The door shut, and I blinked, suddenly alone with Emma. In our room. Hell.

“His pastries are the best I’ve ever tasted.” A flush of pride washed up my neck and over my face. At some point, hers had become the opinion I valued the most.

“I know you don’t like mangoes.” A faint curl of humor danced on his lips. “You know?” How? How did he know this? “I’ve been feeding you this whole time, remember?” With his hot buttered voice, it sounded dirty, illicit.

“With you, honeybee, I will always be a gentleman.” He laughed softly, like he was imparting a secret. “Unless you don’t want me to be.”

“Thing is, the more I get to know you, the more beautiful you are to me.”

“Think about touching you again, tasting you. I go to sleep with your name on my tongue and your scent on my skin.”

“I feel owned. By you. And I like it.”

her head resting on my chest, as though she could no longer hold it up. That was fine; I could do the lifting for both of us.

“When I finally get to taste you,” Lucian had stated, “I want to be able to sink into you afterward. I need that, Em.”

“Lucian Osmond, you wrecked me.” His arm wrapped around my shoulders as his lips touched the crown of my head. “Only fair. You’ve been wrecking me from the moment we met.”

“Emma. Sweetheart. I don’t want you to see me weak.” “Well, that’s good. Because all I see is strength.”

I let her fuss over me, getting me slices of bread, a glass of lemonade. Because it made her happy. And a happy Emma glowed with an inner light that I couldn’t take my eyes off.

“If we’d met as teens, I would have invited you to my room. Or crawled into yours.”

“I would have noticed you.” Her fingers trailed up my shoulders. “How can you be so sure?” “Because I cannot conceive of a situation where I wouldn’t.”

“But that’s on me. I’m always building castles in the air, only to find out there’s nothing solid to rely on.”