Don’t Go Away Mad by Lacey Black

Chapter Ten

Lyndee

I step aside, allowing Jasper to slip by me. I catch a hint of his sandalwood scent mixed with grease and cheese, which surprisingly, I seem to like. Of course, the smell could also be coming from the Styrofoam containers in his hand, and considering the way my stomach responds noisily, I’d say it likes the aroma too.

Jasper doesn’t call me on my blatant hunger, fortunately, just moves to the kitchen. “Where’s Dustin?”

“He went home. Today was a long day for him, and he was tired.”

“I made him a burger,” he adds, setting the two containers down on the end of the large island and pushing one in my direction.

“He was cooking a frozen pizza when I left to come back here,” I tell him, not reaching for the food, even though it smells like absolute heaven.

Jasper’s wide eyes meet mine. “Frozen pizza?” he shudders, making a big display of his disgust.

I roll my eyes and pop open the lid of the container in front of me. “We can’t all be world-class chefs,” I tease, my mouth watering as I gaze at the fresh fries and gooey cheeseburger.

Jasper snorts. “Uhh, we graduated from the same school, Lyn.”

I wave him off, taking a fry and popping it into my mouth. “Yes, but we had our eyes set out on two different types of cooking. I’m a baker, and all that other stuff was just fluff. Your fries are amazing,” I state, sliding a second between my lips.

“We cut them ourselves and it’s my own blend of seasonings,” he confirms, leaning a hip against the island, the smallest smile playing on his lips as he watches me eat. Usually, I’d be embarrassed to be the focus of someone’s scrutiny like this, but I know Jasper. He likes to watch you eat. He wants to witness every expression, every moment someone enjoys his food. And he’s just cocky enough to know they’ll enjoy it. Always has been, always will be.

“You don’t make your own pizzas?” he asks, clearly unable to get past the quick Tombstone meal.

I shrug. “I’ve made homemade before, but frozen wins hands down when you’re under a time crunch.”

Jasper stares at me as I eat another fry. “I suppose I can understand that, but nothing beats homemade anything.”

“You’re right,” I agree, picking up the burger and examining the toppings. “Is that avocado?”

“It is. Try it before you knock it,” he instructs, watching me intently as I bring the burger to my mouth.

“I’ve had avocado before,” I retort with a clip to my tongue. “I was just looking at what was on here.”

He just smirks, as if he’s enjoying getting me all riled up. “Avocado, bacon, and mayo. Oh, and cheddar cheese.”

My mouth waters, but to be honest, it would probably do that without knowing what was on the burger. I’m so darn hungry, chastising myself for not hanging around and stealing a slice or two of Dustin’s pizza. I take a tentative bite, enjoying the hell out of the savory explosion of bacon mixed with mayonnaise. “Wow, this is delicious,” I mumble with a mouth full.

The smile he gives me spreads slow across his lips, my body reacting immediately. Heat floods my core, a sharp tingle between my legs, like I was shot with Cupid’s lust-tipped arrow. “Isn’t it?”

I point to the other container, and as soon as I can get words out past the mangled meat and bun in my mouth, ask, “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Jasper snorts, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Classy lady,” he mocks, causing me to roll my eyes. “And I brought this for Dustin.”

Once I swallow, I reply, “He’s already eaten. You might as well have it, so it doesn’t go to waste.”

He seems a little uncertain, and maybe even a touch uncomfortable. “Oh, I wasn’t going to stay. Just dropping off food.”

“Well, you don’t have to stay, I guess. You can take it with you, but something this good shouldn’t be wasted,” I state, wishing my heart wouldn’t beat a little harder at the thought of him leaving.

“I don’t have to go,” he replies quickly, reaching for the food container and opening the lid. His mouth opens but doesn’t say anything. Instead, Jasper shovels a handful of fries into his mouth, as if they could keep him from saying whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

We stand in silence, both eating our food and stealing glances of the other without getting caught. Of course, every time I look his way out of the corner of my eye, he busts me, and I can feel his occasional gaze on me like a caress.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to since college,” I finally say when my burger is almost halfway done.

Jasper clears his throat. “Well, after graduation, I went to Cleveland and worked at a restaurant there. I started as a sous-chef for an abysmal man who barely knew the difference between braising and broiling. On top of that, he smelled like meat, but not the kind he was preparing. It was like he rubbed it in his armpits every morning and forgot to shower.”

My face must show how incredibly horrifying his words are, because he laughs when his eyes meet mine.

“True story. I dealt with his incompetence and lack of personal hygiene for a couple of months before I had to do something. Renaldo’s had a ton of potential, but the customers just weren’t returning the way they should have been. The food was subpar and overpriced. I went to Renaldo one night and told him if he made me head chef, I’d double his profits by the end of the year, or he could fire me. He gave me six months to help turn around his restaurant, and if I did it, he’d rewrite my contract and include profit sharing. It was really a no-brainer for him.”

“Cocky,” I blurt out, wiping a smear of mayo off my lip.

He just gives me that arrogant grin. The one I know and expect to slide so effortlessly across his face. “You know it.”

“And did it work?”

“Three months. He doubled his profits in three months and had reservations booked up almost two months in advance.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I reply, proud of a young Jasper to be able to walk into a kitchen and turn it around within such a short amount of time.

He lifts a shoulder. “It was. I only stayed through the end of that year, though.”

“You did?” I was surprised by this revelation. If Jasper was offered a new contract, including profit sharing, why on earth would he leave before he was able to take advantage of it?

He nods. “Sure did. Believe it or not, some of the staff didn’t like me much. Several tried to overthrow me,” he replies with a chuckle.

I try to cover my laugh with a cough, but he doesn’t buy it.

“It’s okay, you can laugh. Their coup didn’t work. I would have stayed, making their lives miserable as long as possible, but I was offered another job just down the street. I helped Renaldo’s, and then turned around and worked for his biggest competitor,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Really?” I ask, the food I’m chewing suddenly stuck in my throat.

Jasper shrugs. “Sure, why not? Isn’t the name of the game to make money, while doing what you love? Otherwise, why else do it? Lamonte’s had a great reputation and excellent cuisine. Their head chef was retiring after almost thirty years, and they were willing to pay me what I was worth.”

“Wow, good for you,” I reply, only finishing about three quarters of my food before my stomach feels like it could explode.

“I’d probably still be there, if not for beers and burgers with my friends one night several years ago. We had always said in college there was no place to eat good burgers, even went as far as considering what we’d do if we ever had our own place. Well, one night, we were sitting around at Walker’s house. He was bitching about the bar he was working at, when Numbers mentioned we should just open our own place. It was the first time we actually considered it, not just friends bullshitting, you know? We ended up deciding to check into it, which was the start of our partnership. That was about six years ago,” he says, taking another healthy bite of his food. “Are you done?”

“If I eat another bite, I’m going to have to unbutton my pants.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could pull them back in.

Jasper’s eyes flare with desire, the brown of his eyes turning black as they slowly drop down to my waist. He can’t see behind my apron, but I can feel his imagination running wild, as if he can physically see my pants unfastening.

When his eyes meet mine, humor mixes with lust. “I could help,” he offers easily, his voice low and gravelly. It reminds me of that one time…the time we almost kissed.

Rolling my eyes, I opt to keep this friendly. Mostly because it would be too easy to get sucked into naughty banter with Jasper. With that wicked gleam and devilish smirk, he’s what daydreams are made of. The problem is he knows it too.

“No thank you. I don’t need assistance.”

He tsks. “Too bad. Next time, maybe?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively to punctuate his offer.

I can’t stop the giggle that spills from my throat as I shake my head at his antics.

“So, how about you? What have you been up to for the last ten years?” he asks, finishing off his food in just a few bites.

“Oh, nothing exciting,” I reply, referring to the fact he worked at fancy restaurants, probably making more money in a year than I’ve made in the last five combined.

“I doubt that. We always had different food paths on the horizon, so where did yours lead you?” He’s referring to the known fact he was going places after graduation and I was headed home to bake.

“Home, mostly. I worked at a bakery there until it was sold, and the new owner didn’t share the same vision for the future. My mom had been gone a little while by then, and Dustin and I were looking for a change.”

“Why Stewart Grove?”

“My brother found our condo online. It’s handicap accessible and perfect for his needs. Then, during his search of the town, he discovered this place for sale. Dustin’s stubborn and like a dog with a bone once he sets his mind to something. He knew I wanted to work in a bakery and convinced me to open my own.”

“And how do you feel after your first official day open?” he asks, seeming to be genuinely interested.

“I’m exhausted,” I reply with a chuckle. “We did really well today, which surprised me, considering my only advertising is word of mouth and social media. I sold out of a few things early on, letting me know how I need to make adjustments moving forward. Plus, I took three cake orders for this weekend.”

He awards me with a sincere smile. When he does that, it makes me weak in the knees and a little breathy. “You’re going to be needing to hire more staff before you know it. Maybe even someone who specializes in a certain area, like cake decorating or breads and pastries, so you can focus on what you want. I could put some feelers out for you. I know a lot of people in this town now, a few which are in the industry. I’ll make a few calls and—What?”

I shake my head. “You’re just as bossy now as you were in school,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t take it as an insult.

When he barks out a laugh and shrugs, I realize he knows exactly how pushy he can be. “Guilty. I was just offering to help, but if you don’t want it,” he starts.

“No, I do appreciate it, but I’ve only been open a day. I don’t really know what I’ll need yet. It takes time.”

He watches me, those dark eyes assessing. “True.”

“Besides, I’m not taking too many custom orders right now. I want to focus on selling stock in my case, like pies.”

“Ahhh, yes. Pies.” There’s something in his tone that heckles my nerves.

“Do you have a problem with me selling pies?” I ask, slightly confused on why he’d have an issue. I mean, I own a bakery.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” he sings. “I recall your pies well.”

Then it hits me. “You’re still mad about the pecan pie thing?”

“Thing? You mean you barely edging by my top class grade with your rendition of a pecan pie?” His eyes flare to life with passion and maybe even a touch of anger.

“My pie won me that grade fair and square, buddy. In fact, I’ve won awards for that pecan pie,” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes.

“Fairs and festivals don’t count as winning awards,” he argues, stepping forward and slowly making his way to stand before me. When he does that, I have to look way up, reminding me of how tall he is in comparison to my short five-foot-two-inch stance.

I stand tall, refusing to let him affect me in any way. “I’ll have you know; my pie was featured in Foodie News!”

He snorts. “Like that’s a big deal,” he replies, even though we both know it is. Foodie News is a leader in both print and online food-related news all over the world. That feature was the highlight of my career, thus far.

“You’re just jealous because you lost to a little ol’ girl and didn’t get the top grade. I bet that’s been a thorn in your side ever since,” I retort, realizing I’m poking the bear with a very big stick.

Fire blazes in his eyes as he glares down at me. Though, it’s not a fear-inducing look. In fact, the way my body burns, I’d say it has the exact opposite response. Jasper takes one more step forward until we’re practically chest to chest. He leans down just a touch and whispers, “I haven’t thought about it since.”

I can’t stop the snort that erupts from my body like Mount St. Helens. “Clearly,” I reply sarcastically, rolling my eyes so dramatically, there’s no missing the fact I don’t believe him.

His eyes narrow into little slits as he focuses on my…lips.

My lips?

“Do you ever thing about that almost kiss?” he whispers, his words coming out in little pants.

All the time.

“What kiss?” I ask, barely breathing as he inches ever so slowly toward my face, his lips drawing closer and closer with each passing second.

Jasper smirks, clearly not believing my reply for a second. “No? Not at all, like when it’s late at night and you’re in bed? Or maybe in the shower and all alone?” He lifts his hand and brushes hair off my forehead, his warm touch lingering against my flushed skin.

“No,” I croak out, my throat parched and gravelly.

He tsks, the smirk turning into a full-watt smile. It’s breathtaking, really. I’ve never known a smile to be that beautiful, that mesmerizing. He leans down, his full lips dangerously close to my own, and I suck in a deep breath of oxygen.

Is he going to kiss me?

He moves slightly to the right, tucking loose hair from my ponytail behind my ear. His lips barely brush against my cheek, igniting a deep-burning inferno in my gut. Jasper holds my hair, his thumb making contact with my neck and sending shivers of lust bolting through my body. His hot breath tickles the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Liar.”

It takes a few seconds before I can clear the sex-infused fog from my brain and consider his word. When it hits me, I jump back, inhaling a greedy breath of air and narrowing my eyes even more. “Am not,” I argue lamely, wishing my nipples weren’t hard and poking through my top.

Jasper stands up to his full height and gives me a self-satisfying grin. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, sweetheart.”

I clear my throat, but before I can form words, Jasper speaks. “Well, it’s been great catching up with you, Lyndee,” he says, tossing his container in the trash can beside my industrial kitchen island and giving me another smile.

“Whatever,” I mumble, tossing my own trash in the bin and following behind as he heads for the front door. I try to catch my bearings as I reach for the lock, hoping he can’t see the slight tremble in my hand as I give it a turn. “Thank you for dinner.”

He turns around, standing directly in front of me. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you around,” I reply quickly, my voice a higher pitch than normal.

He grins. “You definitely will, sweetheart. You definitely will.”

And then he’s leaving, sliding into his incredibly expensive car and pulling away from the curb.

What the hell was that?

How can I let him affect me like that? After all this time? He still has a way of getting under my skin and making me want to rip off my clothes at the same time. Stupid girl. The last thing you need is to get all doe-eyed over Jasper Kohlmann. He’s hot but definitely not my type. I think it’s best to remember that. There’s no future with a man like that.

Besides a few naughty romps in the sheets?

Exactly. That’s all it would ever be, and that’s not what I’m looking for. I want a partner. A man who respects my desire to work and understands the commitment it takes to own and operate my own business. Jasper seems like the type of man who, if he ever settles down, would require his wife to stay home, taking care of the kids and joining the PTA.

Besides, it would never work out. We butt heads too much.

Good thing I’m not interested in him like that.

Keep telling yourself that.