Sweet Obsession

Mason grabs his coffee and the bakery box. “No worries. You can buy me a round tonight to make up for that little blunder.” He trains his eyes on me, stepping back. “And you. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Damn it. I try, really, really try not to smile, but he throws on that damn ‘yeah’ at the end of his sentence, and I can’t help it. It’s cute. I like it.

Luckily, I don’t give him the chance to see it.

I duck down behind the counter, looking busy. “Mm. Yeah, all right. See ya,” I call out as I stare at the gray speckled tile on the floor.

The door chimes. Joey crouches down beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispers, searching my face.

“Working.”

He glances around the tiny corner I’m tucked into. “Yeah, okay. What was all that talk about giving him an answer? An answer to what? Did you not tell me something last night?”

I straighten and shove past him, moving into the kitchen. “You are lucky I tell you anything, Joey McDermott.”

Snatching my apron off the hook, I join Dylan at the worktop.

My mind begins cataloging possible outfits for tonight. I’ll definitely be wearing heels, that’s for sure. Mason seems strangely intrigued by our height difference.

Maybe he normally dates taller women?

Oh, my God. Why am I even thinking about what kind of women he dates? That damn kiss has left me stupid.

Joey claims one of the stools, pouting. “Brooke is holding out on us, Dylan. Can you please explain to her that there are no secrets within these walls?”

Dylan keeps her eyes on the frosting she is piping, flatly replying, “Brooke, you know the drill.”

I secure the apron string around my waist, ignoring them both.

Screw that. I don’t need to divulge anything.

Joey slaps the wood, then stands. “Fine. I’ll just go ask Mason myself.”

I grip his forearm. “Heyyy, that’s . . . not necessary. I’m sure he’s busy.” I press against his shoulder until he’s seated again, then I start to pace around the room, suddenly no longer able to stand still. My palms begin to sweat.

Damn it. I’m about to recollect this morning, that goddamn kiss.

“Uh, okay, so, you know everything that happened last night. Nothing new to report there. I was getting our coffees and Mason walked in, looking all . . . whatever. You saw him. He explained to me in a very private alley a few blocks down that he wants more with me. Like talking, and . . . dates, I guess, before all the sex stuff. He wants to know me first. How crazy is that?”

I chuckle awkwardly. Everyone else remains silent.

Crickets. All of a sudden, I’m surrounded by crickets.

I do another lap around the room. “So, that’s basically it. He asked me if I can give him that. More. I didn’t really answer. I mean, I kind of did. Not really. Oh, and he kissed me. On the mouth.”

“As opposed to . . .”

I snap my head up to look at Joey, then drop it into a quick nod. “Right. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

Dylan sets her piping bag down. “I take it the kiss was good? You seem a bit wound up.”

Good?

No. It was fucking phenomenal.

I limply shrug as I grab two baking racks off the shelf.

I’ve confessed enough sins today. They don’t need to know how wet I got from fifteen seconds of making out.

“I like him,” Joey beams, resting his chin on his hand.

“Me too,” Dylan smiles at me. “Brooke?”

I set the racks on the worktop. My next words come as I keep my head down and my hands busy. “You know what I like? Working. Getting a paycheck. Orgasms are also nice, which I doubt come with liking this guy, so, no. I don’t like him. How many special orders do we have today? Three? We need to get started. I need to get started. And God, I need to eat something before I collapse.”

I shuffle up to the front and murder a cupcake.

Brown sugar praline. It never stands a chance.

I’m the last one to arrive at The Tavern later that night. I decide to blame my lateness on the traffic, not the forty-plus minutes I spend getting ready, or the pacing I do around Billy and Joey’s condo.

“Traffic? What traffic? It’s not rush-hour.”

My sister Juls quickly calls me out on my lie after I explain my tardiness. I pretend I don’t hear her as I slowly sip my Long Island and gage the crowd. Imagine Dragons pumps through the speakers overhead. My foot taps along to the beat.

Ian returns with a few beers for the table. “Two dollar beers. I fucking love college night.”

Reese reaches for his mug, his other arm permanently fixated around Dylan. “Don’t you feel old being here with this crowd? I feel like everyone’s looking at me like I’m a chaperone.” He tugs at the knot in his tie, loosening it.

Joey chuckles. “Uh, no. They’re looking at you ‘cause you’re a DILF.”

Reese frowns. “A what?”

“A DILF.” Dylan rests her head on his shoulder, grinning. “Dad I’d like to fuck.”

“Get the hell out of here,” he mutters, lifting his beer to his mouth.

“You’re sexy, Reese. Own it.” Joey holds up his mug. “You know who else is sexy?” He quickly kisses Billy. “Besides my baby.”

I swirl my straw around in my glass. A group of women giggle obnoxiously at the next table. One of them nearly falls off her stool.