Shoes are flying everywhere as I rummage through Dylan’s small closet. How she manages to fit her and Reese’s clothes in this thing, along with her gorgeous selection of handbags and other accessories is beyond me. They are in serious need of a bigger space, but I get it. She likes living above her bakery, and Reese will do anything to make her happy.
With this third baby coming though, one of them might have to start sleeping in the bathtub. No way is another crib fitting in this loft.
“Oh, hello pink.” My hands close around a delicious pair of Steve Maddens. I toe off my sneakers and remove my socks.
Maneuvering carefully down the stairs, I re-enter the bakery, now three inches taller. Dylan and Joey take notice immediately.
“Help yourself to my wardrobe, Brooke.”
Her sarcasm isn’t lost on me.
“Will do.”
I grab an empty bakery box and slide the display case open, reaching inside.
Joey nudges against me. “Do you really think he’s going to be staring at your feet, Miss Cleavage?” His words are muffled by the mouthful of danish he’s devouring.
“I always feel more confident in heels.”
“And the cupcakes?”
“It’s a gesture. Welcome to the neighborhood, now let’s go get naked and eat these off each other.”
Dylan laughs quietly. “I think it’s sweet. What’s that saying? The fastest way to a man’s cock is through his stomach?”
“Mm, I don’t think that’s right,” Joey says, laughing. “Although, how many apple turnovers did Reese consume when you two were dating, but not dating, but totally dating?”
“Shut up.”
I straighten and close the box, rounding the counter and heading for the door. “Right. I’d say wish me luck, but we all know I don’t need it.”
Their remarks, if they have any, are lost amongst the traffic from the street as I step outside. I wait not so patiently for a break to cross, shifting on my feet, taking quick bursts of air into my lungs.
Why am I suddenly nervous?
Because you’re about to suggest a night of scandalous indecency to a man who looks like the definition of the word ‘orgasm.’
Ridiculous. He can’t be that hot. I’m sure some of his attractiveness will soften the closer I get.
Like a mirage. He’ll vanish before I can touch him.
Steadying the box in my hands, I quickly pad across the street.
Determined.
Mildly apprehensive.
One hundred percent turned-on.
MASON
I did it.
Holy fuck, I actually did it.
Linking my hands behind my head, I gaze up at the sign I had installed yesterday. The morning sun strikes against the sharp edge of the letters, deepening the richness of the color.
My chest swells with pride. My stomach flips wildly, reminding me of my nerves and the giant risk I’m taking doing this.
Contradicting reactions battling for dominance. Equal in strength, I’m the perfect blend of fearless and frozen.
This is official, scary as hell, and quite possibly the biggest thing I’ll ever do. I’ve dreamed of owning my own studio for years, since I first started instructing. The passion I have for this, the drive, it’s there, but bloody hell, so is the worry I’m in way over my head. Never did I imagine I’d actually get this opportunity. And here I am, starting this new venture in a city completely foreign to me.
I pinch my eyes shut through a slow inhale.
This has the potential to be amazing, my greatest accomplishment, maybe the only fucking thing I’ll ever do that’ll mean something.
I have the potential to completely fuck it all up.
Right, mate. Way to stay positive.
“Admiring the view?”
My arms fall heavy to my sides. My eyes fly open.
“I gotta say,” the low, velvety voice behind me continues. “I really don’t blame you. I’ve been doing my own fair share of staring this morning.”
I turn my head, intrigued.
A woman, obviously, I knew before I turned around I’d be coming face-to-face with a woman. Only not this woman. Never in my wildest imagination could I conjure up this vision as she steps up to join me on the footpath, then stumbles forward the second our eyes lock.
“Oomph!”