Tied With Me (With Me In Seattle)(21)

“Thanks, partner. I’ll go check on her.”

“See you tomorrow,” he responds and hangs up.

I glance longingly at my comfortable bed and resign myself to being awake for a few more hours.

There’s no way in hell that I’ll leave her to fend for herself today. Not if I can help her.

I dress quickly in jeans and a black T-shirt and drive quickly to the bakery.

Sure enough, it takes me five minutes to find parking, and when I finally step inside, there is a line to the door. Nic is smiling widely but clearly overwhelmed, bustling behind the glass case, back and forth between plating cupcakes and ringing up customers.

This is a two-person job.

She hasn’t even noticed I’m here when I slip back into the kitchen and grab a spare white apron, pull it over my head and tie it around my waist.

Oh, we’re going to have fun with her apron very soon.

Before I can spend too much time daydreaming of tying her up with her apron and f*cking her blind here in her kitchen, I join her behind the counter, startling her.

“Matt!”

“How can I help?” I ask calmly.

Her cheeks are flushed and her hands are shaking as she brushes a piece of hair off her face.

“You don’t have to,” she replies but swallows hard.

“Clearly, I do. We’ll talk later, just tell me what you need.” I smile reassuringly and brush her soft cheek with my fingertip.

“Can you fill cupcake orders while I make coffees and ring them up?” she asks.

“I can do that,” I reply.

“I need two minutes,” she informs me and disappears into the kitchen.

I’m just filling a white box full of a half-dozen carrot cake cupcakes when she returns, chewing on something.

“Better?” I ask.

She nods and returns to the cash register, attending to her customers. That red ribbon is tied around her head again. It seems to be a part of her uniform. I do believe we’ll find a way to have fun with that as well.

God, she’s f*cking beautiful.

We work side by side for the better part of the morning without a break. I can’t believe how busy her little shop is. I grin in pride when an elderly man approaches Nic to ring up his sales.

“My Margaret and I sure do love your sweets, girlie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Larsen. How is your pretty wife?” Nic asks with a grin.

“She’s been a little under the weather, but these will brighten her right up.”

“I hope so,” Nic replies and drops some chocolate-covered cherries into a bag to give to him as well. “These are new. I’d love it if you two would let me know what you think.”

Mr. Larsen winks at Nic and grins before walking out with his purchase.

Nic knows most of her clients’ names and deals with them all with humor and grace.

At two thirty, there is a lull in customers, so Nic slips in the back for a few minutes and returns with more trays of cupcakes to fill empty slots in her case. She has a stick of string cheese hanging out of her mouth, chewing away on it.

“So what happened?” I ask as she arranges the case.

“Anastasia, my other part-time helper, called out sick this morning,” she replies with a sigh. “Tess is in college, so she can’t help during the week. So that left me.”

“Maybe you should hire someone full time to help out,” I suggest, but she glares at me from across the space.

“Trying to tell me how to run my business now, Matt?”

“Hey,” I reply, holding up my hands, “it was just a suggestion.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingertips. “I haven’t had enough to eat today. It makes me grouchy.”

“You close at four?” I ask. I walk behind her and begin kneading the tight muscles in her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she replies and sighs deeply, leaning against me. “Jesus, that feels good. Why did you come in?”

“Asher called me. Said you were pretty busy, so I decided to come check in on you.”

She spins around, her jaw dropped in surprise. “But he said you two worked all night.”

I smile patiently and step closer to her, needing to be next to her. She smells of vanilla and sugar, and it’s the most alluring smell I’ve ever experienced.

Who knew sugar could be so f*cking sexy?

“You needed me,” I reply simply. “And I’ve missed you this week.”