Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“You… you what?” she shrieked.
But I didn’t have time for her.
“I really have to go,” I said. “Next time, answer your freakin’ phone.”
With that, I darted out into the pouring rain.
Pouring rain that was set to turn into sleet at some point during the day, then later to snow.
We were estimated to get at least eight inches of snow tonight, an amount downright unheard of for Deep East Texas.
But, since last year we had that freak three days where it got to negative temperatures, nothing really surprised me anymore.
Thankfully, I would be doing the early morning drive to work in the wet, but not ice.
And wet it certainly was.
As in, pouring buckets. So much rain fell from the sky that my windshield wipers couldn’t keep up.
“Nothing good ever comes from eighty-degree weather in January,” I said to myself as I slowed to an almost-crawl.
Luckily, I was only a few blocks from the apex of town, which was where Jeremiah’s shop was located.
Yesterday, I’d looked up the history on the shop.
Jeremiah had established Intercourse ‘Sweet Spot’ in 2009, when things at the power company had become more stable. According to the article that’d been written about the shop, Jeremiah had a love for baking that his grandmother had instilled in him. And, when he finally freed up some of his time, he started the bakery on Main that would later become a TikTok sensation.
Speaking of the bakery on Main, I arrived with a flash of lightning to help guide me in to park.
When I shut the truck off, I cursed myself for not bringing an extra pair of clothes seeing as I was about to be soaked.
With nothing to do, I started to get out of the truck only to come to an almost-halt when Jeremiah arrived at the side of my truck with an umbrella.
Silently, he held it for me, giving me raised eyebrows when I remained frozen, staring at him with surprise at his sudden arrival.
“You getting out?” he mouthed through my quickly-fogging window.
I got out, stepping right underneath his umbrella and crowding in close.
Too close.
I could smell the scent of his cologne… or his scent. I wasn’t sure which.
What I was sure of was that it was delicious, and woodsy, and spicy. And I wanted to drown myself in it.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him. “I would’ve been miserable the rest of the day had you not saved me.”
He winked at me, then helped guide me toward the front door, his front to my back.
He practically walked in my footsteps until we reached the front door.
Leaning forward into my space, and pressing himself against me completely, he opened the front door and pressed his hips against me in a voiceless sign to move forward.
I was ashamed to admit, it took me a good thirty seconds to understand the sign and follow directions.
Because having Jeremiah’s hips pressed against me brought me to a time not too long ago when other things were not only pressed against me, but inside of me.
In fact, I’d woken up last night, twice, thinking about those things.
Entering the building, I stopped right inside the door to lose my wet shoes.
It was as I was bent in half, unlacing my shoes, that Jeremiah entered behind me and closed the door securely.
“Thanks for the dry entrance,” I said as I slipped out of the first shoe and moved to unlacing the second one.
That’s when I felt his heat at my back as he crowded in close to do the same as me. Only, his boots didn’t require him to bend, but merely toe them off.
I shivered in delight at the way he felt being so close to me, and reluctantly moved off of the mat across the wood floor to the display case.
“I was out there taking out the trash and saw you,” he answered, sounding off. “You ready to get started?”
I was ready.
More than ready.
Other than the constant wakeups of need that had pestered me throughout the night, so had the desire to bake.
The desire had been a spark in my blood since he’d told me when to be here yesterday afternoon when he’d dropped me back off at my truck.
“More than,” I answered immediately. “Where do you want me?”
I watched his face for a flash of a heartbeat and saw the second that something naughty crossed his mind. That flash was gone in an instant, but I’d seen it before it disappeared.
“On the quiche,” he answered. “We’ll put that out today. See how it does. But only make about five. I don’t want too many in case they don’t go for it.” He hesitated. “Usually, it’s the sweet stuff that sells like wildfire here. Not even my bread does that well. But the locals love it. Meaning, if I don’t have it on hand, there’s a riot.”