Page 90 of Desserts for Stressed People

My heart squeezes with guilt as I recognize the words I told him as Nevaeh, and I move away, afraid he’ll notice my expression and find out thatsomeoneis me. “I think the coffee is ready.”

“Right. We keep getting sidetracked. The chocolate ganache.” He taps his finger on the top of the container.

“Yes. Why didn’t you donate that too?” I ask, pouring coffee in the two identical mugs—I don’t normally drink coffee this late, but it’s not like I have any hope of sleeping anyway.

“I thought it could have a better use.”

When I turn to him, his grin widens. “What’s that?”

“You said you like cleaning. And I imagine after what happened yesterday, you must be a little upset. Maybe...stressed.” He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, uncovering slender forearms sprinkled with short brown hair.

Entranced by his tan skin and perfect muscles, I abandon the cups on the counter and give him a doubtful nod. What the hell is he doing?

“Well...is there something in particular you like to clean?” he asks as he bends over the table.

We both laugh, and I don’t know why. Maybe he brought the container because he wants me to wash it? “How do you mean?”

He lifts the lid. “Do you enjoy cleaning the floors? Washing the dishes? Dusting the shelves?”

There’s not a hint of judgment in his voice. Most people think my obsession with cleanliness and order is weird or annoying, but not him. He just expectantly waits for an answer.

As he sets the lid of the monstrosity on the table, I look at the delicious chocolate ganache and shake my head. “I like all cleaning.”

He points at the ganache. He wants me to taste it, but I don’t. I’m terrified, because he’s obviously planning something, but I have no clue what that is. When he notices my hesitation, he dips his finger into the ganache, then brings it to his mouth as his eyes appraise me. They’re hungry enough to make my breath catch as the tip of his finger disappears behind his lips. If there’s something like eye-sex, I think we’re doing it. “There. It’s not poisoned.”

I raise my hand in defense. “People at the officedocall you an asshole, so...”

He playfully shoves my arm, then points at the monstrosity. “You, now. I want to know if you like it.”

Oh, God. Did he put salt in it or something? And what does that have to do with cleaning?

I peer at the brown, velvety spread and swallow. Idideat a handful of candy after lunch, plus there were those two cookies I earned by cleaning the restroom. And if we’re about to eat those brownies too...

“You deserve it, Heaven,” he says with a tiny smile. “You’ve been strong, and I know it wasn’t easy.”

I press my lips together. “It’s just, today I’ve already—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He tucks some hair behind my ear, shivers spreading down my spine. “You always deserve dessert.”

With a nod, I dip the tip of my index into the cold cream and suck on it, immediately letting out a moan, because it’s that freaking good. Sweet, but not nauseating. The taste of chocolate is so rich, and the texture buttery and delicious. I almost wish he didn’t donate the cake. “God, this is amazing.”

A proud grin opens up his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re lucky we have enough to fill a small cottage.”

With a booming laugh, he shakes his head. “Man, you’re going to regret saying that so much.”

I’m about to ask why, when a flicker of mischief brightens his irises. He fits his hand into the container as I stare at him, wondering if he’s lost his mind. Once he takes his hand out, it’s covered in chocolate.

“What the...What are you doing?”

Chocolate drips down on the floor and his clothes, leaving huge brown stains all over the place.

“Well...” He steps back and shrugs. “As I said, this is a stressful moment for you. We need something to clean. Don’t we?”

He bites his lower lip, his hand landing on the white cabinet behind him. My pantry.

My mouth widens as he drags his hand down until there’s a long chocolate handprint all over the first cabinet door, then he freezes with his brows up and a nervous smile.