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And I try to focus. I really do. But now, seconds before seeing the man I’ve been in love with for years, I’m rethinking every single decision I’ve made in my life.
“If you’re lonely, we can arrange to have some of your family meet you in Winnipeg, or I can always have a, um, a lady waiting for you.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Did you seriously just offer to send me a Canadian prostitute?” “She doesn’t have to be Cana—”
Not sure if I’m supposed to or not, I hold my hand out in Michael’s direction. But he’s still not paying attention. My hand wavers in the air.
“Hi,” I breathe the word. “Hi.” His simple reply goes straight to my core. Hi.
Her wide green eyes meet mine and, for a long second, I wonder if throwing her over my shoulder and walking out of here would really be that big of a deal.
I throw a glare at him before focusing back on the angel in front of me. If Joey thinks he can give her pet names and win her affections with his fake-ass charm, he’s gonna be thinking differently when I shove a whisk down his smarmy throat.
Fucking hell, if this woman doesn’t tamp down her reactions, I’m gonna do something to embarrass us both.
I hosted a special on the Baking Network years ago before this show was created, and after trying an amazing cake, I picked my fork back up to take a “second bite.” It’s a misnomer since I take multiple bites when I’m trying something to get the full experience. But if a creation is so good that I pick my fork back up to take another bite, it gets the Second Bite label. People liked it, so the name stuck.
If there was another man, he’s done now. He let her out, let her cross my path, and that’s his own fault. Because if she was mine, I’d keep her tied to my side. Literally, if necessary.
How I’m managing to keep myself from dropping to one knee, and demanding for her hand in marriage, is beyond me.
“Oh, dear.” Pamela’s sentiment says it all. As a collective, we all stand and stare at the atrocity of a snowman that I created. The round circular face isn’t a pretty speckled white. It’s a jagged, splotchy mess of mottled snow flesh with streaks of gore. The button eyes and coal mouth look menacing and evil. And the black top hat is the literal icing on top of my monstrous creation.
“Very nice.” Pamela smiles before I can say anything. “You did a good job with the gingerbread.” “Thank you.” Alice’s voice cracks. Aw, fuck. I know I was being tough but— One of Alice’s hands releases its death grip on her skirt, and she reaches up to brush across her cheek. My chest tightens. Is she— Alice sniffles. And a jolt of pain shoots down my spine. She’s crying. My Alice. My beautiful Christmas Miracle is crying. And I’m the cause.
“Please don’t cry, Baby Cakes.” The pressure of his hand on my back increases. “I can’t take you crying.”
Using my fingertip, I trace M + A into the condensation on the window, and feel a small smirk start to form. If only.
I’m sorry I called your ice cream the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Sorry I spit it out in front of the whole world.
I’m sorry for making you cry. I know you don’t know a thing about me, but I’m
pretty sure I’m half in love with you and I’d rather die than make you cry again. Sorry I didn’t just eat the whole disgusting cake. Because I will, if it’ll make you smile.
His words cut off at the sound of the elevator door dinging open. Voices drift down the hallway and it only takes one laugh for us to both recognize it as Joey’s. “Shit,” Michael growls, taking a step toward me, closing the distance between us. Our bodies collide, my breasts pressed into the hard planes of his chest. But Michael doesn’t stop. He circles an arm around my back, and in one swift move, he lifts me, steps forward—propelling me back into the room—and kicks the door shut.
“Fuck it,” he growls, a brief moment before his mouth closes on mine.
The sensation of having Michael so close is vibrant. Decadent. Precious. It’s like a string of lights has been wrapped around me and plugged in, with no regard for safety.
“Take more,” she sobs. “Take whatever you want.” Images of our life together flash through my mind. Diamond rings. A white dress. Sunny beaches. Tiny babies. She doesn’t realize what she’s offering. What I’m willing to take. But that comes later. That’s what I’ll claim after.
But after tonight, she won’t need that seed money to build a bakery. I’ll give her whatever she needs. Whatever she fucking wants, her wildest dreams, it’s hers. Alice Hatter will want for nothing.
“Yes.” Michael’s voice sounds like pure sin. “Very beautiful.” I open my mouth to thank him and find his eyes on me instead of the cake, stealing my breath away.
His jaw flexes. “You left.” “I…” My mouth opens and closes. “I was told we were done.” Michael shakes his head. “We’re not done.” “We’re not?” My voice trembles. He takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us. “Baby Cakes, we’re never gonna be done.”
“Never run from me,” I growl between kisses. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”
“Good girls get sweet things. Naughty girls get it rough. And you’ve been very naughty.”
“So yeah, we’re dating for the next few days, or however long it takes me to find you the perfect ring. And after that, you’ll be my fiancée. Then, if I have my say, I’ll be calling you wife by the time the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
“I love you, too, My Chef.” The way she calls me that has my balls tightening. That’s something to explore.
