I was frozen in place. My long neglected libido flared to life.
Holy. Fuck.
Did real men have voices like that? Voices that sounded like they were dipped in chocolate sauce or honey.
“That would be me, Sugarplum.”
Oh. My. Ovaries.
Now, in northwestern New Jersey, we were no strangers to cowboys.
In fact, Barren County hosted rodeos every couple of months at the fairgrounds. But inside of town, I hardly ever ran into a man who looked like him.
And Devil’s Food Bakery was smack dab in the center of Dry Creek. Right on the corner of 3rd Avenue and Main Street.
I had a fairly decent sized storefront. The walls were painted brilliant white, semi-gloss for easy cleaning. But the accents were all black-stained wood and dark red.
The colors complemented my bakery’s custom logo, which featured my cutesy little she-Devil that I’d had designed by a local artist.
People told me black and red were not the right colors for a bakery, but even my haters had to admit my place looked good.
The store was welcoming, warm, and inviting. I even had six designated parking spots for customers in the lot in the back, and Sundays were, of course, my busiest day.
People loved to have sweets after family lunches or dinners, and I was happy to provide them.
Slowly, but surely, I had been building up my business, even offering my services to catering companies for parties and events.
The point I was making to myself was that Dry Creek—hell, make that all of Barren County—was super small population-wise.
I knew all of my regular customers.
But I didn’t know him.
“Cat got your tongue, Sugarplum? I think I can fix that,” the stranger said.
He licked his kissable lips. That intense, dark gaze roamed over me from head to toe, as if he could see through the counter and the display case in front of me.
Okay, well, technically he could. The case was made out of glass, but there was stuff in the way, so I wasn’t totally wrong in feeling so utterly shook by his apparent appreciation. His gaze zeroed in where my, well, where my suddenly needy little pussy was now soaking my underwear, and oh my God, I felt warm all over.
Could he see past my clothes, to the not sexy granny panties I had on?
“C-can I help you?”
“I think we can help each other,” he replied boldly.
His stare was borderline rude. I cleared my throat and held my breath for a moment, trying to calm my runaway nerves.
Okay, so the guy was hot. There was still no reason for me to forget myself just cause he had a devil’s smile and eyes that glittered like my favorite sapphire pendant tucked away in my jewelry box at home.
It was one of the few treasures I’d kept after the divorce, selling everything else I had to go all in with the bakery. Not that piece, though. It was special. I’d gotten it from my mother.
“Well, what do you say?” he asked, and I swear I felt that sexy rumble all the way to my toes.
Never had I been so immediately attracted to someone. But there was something about him that made me want to walk around the display case and plaster myself to his super sexy, muscular body.
Come to mama.
Eeep!
I couldn’t believe I just thought that. I needed to clear all the lustful thoughts I was having right out of my head. This man was a customer, and it just wasn’t like me to drool over customers.
For heaven’s sake, I was a professional, and this was my place of business. Not some bar where I went to pick up guys. Not that I did that either.
Was it hot in here?
I wanted to fan my face but resisted. Barely. I was already making as much of an ass of myself as I was willing to.
I opened my mouth but made the mistake of looking at him again, and all capabilities of coherent speech just flew right out of my head.
Oh. My. God.
His sapphire blue eyes met mine, framed by impossibly dark lashes, and I shivered at the heat I saw inside them. My breathing grew shallow, and I had the funniest feeling way down deep, past my belly.
Like right between my thighs. And how the hell was I supposed to react to that?
In the seven years I’d been a married woman, I had never been so thoroughly turned on in so little time, if ever. But there was something about him that told me he knew exactly how to make my motor run.
But this feeling, this attraction, went deeper than my lusty appetites, which was something my ex often complained about.
Burt always made me feel like there was something wrong with me for wanting sex. Like I was irregular or broken because I craved intimacy.
Anytime I was in the mood was just never the right time for him. I always felt embarrassed and rejected when he gave me that look and shook his head.
At first, I thought it was my body he was uncomfortable with. I tried dieting and wearing clothes he liked. But that didn’t work. Then I thought maybe I was bad at sex.
The jury was still out on that one.
True or not, at least now I knew Burt just didn’t want it with me.
But this guy? He looked like he wanted me. In fact, I was almost sure he did.
Was that weird?
He smiled at me, a wicked grin and I felt my lips return the expression before I could even think about what I was doing. It was like a strange sort of vibe had settled over me.
My anxieties fled till all I felt was warmth and comfort, excitement and thrill. I felt like I knew him. But that was silly. He was a stranger.
Okay, so maybe not knew.
Maybe recognized was a better word. But that was equally ludicrous.
Where the heck would someone like me, a regular country bumpkin or as close as I could get to being one in the Garden State, have met someone like him?
Despite his everyday cowboy regalia, the man oozed money and power. I recognized it.
Sometimes city slickers got this idea they could just come out to the country and try their hand at farming and ranching.
Like it was easy.
Usually, it was just a matter of time before they tucked tail and ran.
He was probably one of those.
Someone playing at being a rancher.
Disappointment flitted through me, and he frowned like he felt it, too.
I knew better than to believe in fairytales even if he did look like one of the dark heroes, you know the type.
I just loved reading about over the top, larger-than-life alpha males who were sweet for their woman. And I did, frequently. I even got Avery to start reading again, sharing my latest book binges with her whenever I was finished.
Thank you book bloggers everywhere for the recs.
Now was not the time to indulge in fantasy. But, since he was still standing there and all, I went ahead and took a longer look at him.
He had a mouth and bod made for sin, but it was his teasing grin that really did it for me.
Oh yeah. I was right the first time. There was no way I knew him. I would definitely remember a man like that.
So, this man is my cupcake fanatic, I thought and tried for professional.
“So, um, you are here for?”
“I’m here for you,” he said, voice deep and holy shit, I think my heart started galloping.
He leaned forward and breathed in deep, a rumbling growl seemed to spill from his lips.
Goddamn, I wished I could save that sound for later.
For when I was reading in my bed, and doing other things, in the middle of the night.
Calorie free fun was what Burt has called my reading habit.
Fuck Burt, I thought. Truly, I had to stop thinking about him and his determination to ruin everything that had ever brought me joy.
Fun sucker.
Back to that growl. It was like the Witcher meets the Wolfman.
A sound every male voice narrator the world over wished he could make, and I knew I would not forget it anytime soon.
Holy. Hell. Who is this guy?
He looked like every one of my deepest darkest fantasies come to life.
His lips curled into a grin, like he could hear my thoughts. I shivered involuntarily, wondering what it was about this man that made all my girly pink bits—pieces of me that had been ignored and neglected for far too long—stand up and take notice.
Horny little devil.
It was the first thing that popped into my mind when I took him in from the top of his dark head to the soles of his—holy fuck.
Were those cowboy boots to match his hat?
When people thought of New Jersey, they often thought of cities and turnpike jokes. But there was a hefty section of the local population that was heavily invested in cowboy culture.
Who doesn’t like a cowboy?
I didn’t think he was from around here, but he was wearing the boots and the hat. And if it walked like a duck and talked like a duck, well, you know the rest.
Only let’s substitute fuck for walk and talk and hot as hell cowboy for duck.
Yeah. Let’s do that.
The man looked like what would happen if a runway model and a lumberjack had a baby. He was enormous and fine as hell.
Did they make male runway models with more muscles than any normal person had use for? And could I order one for personal inspection?
“I won’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours unless you tell me, Sugar. But whatever it is, I’m sure I can accommodate you and your, uh, needs,” he growled the words.
My mouth dropped open. Any second now, and I’d be drooling all over my cherry red chef’s coat.
He had to be six foot three or four inches tall, at least. He had wide shoulders and short dark hair, bright blue eyes, promising all sorts of naughty goodness, and a body I’d only ever seen on professional athletes and movie stars.
The whole inspection couldn’t have been more than seconds, but it felt like hours had trickled by since he’d walked in.
If this is what looking at him does to me, imagine the effects his dick would have? OMG. I am a horn dog.
But this was not the time or place to freak out.
“Uh, I am so sorry. Where are my manners? Um, what can I do you for? I mean, for you,” I mumbled, and felt my face flame with embarrassment.
“What can I do for you?” I corrected myself more firmly.
“I think you had it right the first time, Sugarplum.”
“What?” I asked.
“Forgive the nickname, but it just popped into my head on account of you being so sweet and supple.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Did supple mean fat?
“Okay there, cowboy. Easy does it. I’m just about getting ready to close up shop for the day. So, what do you need?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Besides you?”
“Whoa. Slow down, partner,” I replied.
This man threw me off balance, and I didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Using my annoyance, I tried to gain control of myself.
Who did this guy think he was? Walking in my bakery, looking like that and tossing out pet names like he had the right?
Oh yeah. What a jerk. Boooooo…oh who am I kidding? Seriously, go climb that man like a mountain and get to bang town already!
Okay, so my inner voice was not happy with me, but whatever.
I never was one of those girls who jumped on rollercoasters all willy-nilly, raising their hands in the air and just letting go.
Too unpredictable.
Too many variables.
I was more a carousel girl. But nowadays, even that made me dizzy.
Still, I didn’t need some overly good looking man to waltz into my store and pretend-flirt with me out of misguided pity or because he was looking for a favor.
“Sugar, I think you are underestimating your charm—”
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow or better yet never—”
“Ouch, that is harsh. What about my order?” he asked, still grinning at me like I hadn’t just been rude.
“Your order? Oh shit, the cupcakes.”
I snapped my fingers just as my best friend entered the storefront with a bang of the swinging door.
“Here you go, Penny. Holy Hubba! These cupcakes are packing, and so is he,” Avery blurted as she came to an abrupt stop right beside me almost upending the triple decker boxes of cakey goodness.
I grabbed them before they could fall and placed them on the counter and frowned hard at my bestie, who was currently inspecting the man like he was a bug under a magnifying glass.
“Um. Thank you, Avery,” I mumbled and glared at her.
“Yeah, sure. So, who are you?” Avery asked, ignoring me completely.
I didn’t like what was happening to me, but I was adult enough to admit it. Watching my very pretty best friend talk to this guy was making me feel uneasy.
A little jelly, truth be told.
Avery was beautiful and single and fun as fuck. She was the best person I knew. But I had never felt jealous of her before. And I didn’t like feeling that way now.
It made me feel like a lousy friend. And I was not that. I frowned again.
Hard.
“Hello there,” he replied with a smile for Avery that made my stomach tighten and my breath hitch.
What the actual fuck?
Okay, this was insane. I did not know this man from Adam, and I had no claim on him whatsoever.
I’d sworn off men after Burt, or at least, I thought I had. But this man, this stranger, with his dark good looks and liquid blue eyes was making me feel things I should not be feeling.
Rule number one of besties, you did not pant after someone who was obviously interested in your friend.
“The name’s Maximillian Leeds, but you can call me Max. And you are?” he asked Avery.
“Um, here’s your order. I believe you prepaid over the phone. Thank you and enjoy,” I said, cutting off both of them and shoving the full pastry box at the man, er, Max.
He grinned at me, lifting one eyebrow, but left the boxes on the counter.
Jerk.
“I’m Avery Brown,” my soon-to-be former best friend said as she pushed past me.
“This is Penelope Abruzzi. She is single, talented, and she owns this bakery. Well, she just went through the worst divorce—”
“Avery!” I hissed, my face positively flaming.
“Well, I would say I’m sorry to hear that, but actually, I’m not,” Max replied, and his gaze went right back to me.
“Why aren’t you sorry to hear that?” I asked.
Was he seriously that rude?
“A couple of reasons, Sugarplum. None of which I think you’re ready to hear. But suffice it to say if some pitiful excuse for a man was stupid enough to let you go, then he isn’t worth your time. You’re better off without him. So, no, I can’t be sorry about that,” he replied, stealing my breath away with his frank sincerity.
Well shit.
What the heck was I supposed to say to that?