Page 7 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

Not that I had anything against it…I’d just never been with a lover who wanted to play daddy games.

Whoa, stop. I had to get my dick under control. I was in danger of drilling a hole through my jeans when he quirked his brow and licked his bottom lip. My dirty mind had officially gone rogue.

I’d had a brief peek at Theo’s ass when I stood to let him into his seat. He had a nice ass. Spankable. Fuckable.

I wouldn’t hesitate to pull him over my knee, squeeze those cheeks, and spank him…just enough to see my handprint before running my finger along his crease and—

Okay. Enough.

We had a few hours to go, and I didn’t want to spend it talking myself off a horny cliff. I swallowed hard and squirmed in my seat, feigning interest when the bathroom light switched from red to green in the distance.

Theo was talking again.Focus, man. Focus.

“…kidding. You’re not that old,” he said with a teasing half smile. “And it sounds like you’re living a cosmopolitan life, doing something you love. You’re doing somethingIlove too.”

“Do you bake?”

“I’m a novice only, but I’ve consumed my fair share of treats and watched countless baking competitions too, so sometimes I feel like a pro.” Theo tilted his head. “Is there a chance I’ve seen you on TV?”

“Nope. I got my start the old-fashioned way. I worked in the kitchen at a café during college. One day, the chief baking guru got sick, I jumped in, andboom…insta-success.”

He blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“No, I was a disaster,” I deadpanned. “My only chore was to put premade cookie dough on a sheet and stick it in the oven. Fail. I burned them to a crisp. In fact, it was so bad, it set off the fire alarm. Seattle’s finest showed up just as the sprinklers went on, soaking the entire cafe. It was…a scene.”

Theo’s melodic laughter rang merrily in the quiet cabin. He set his hand over his mouth and whispered, “Oh, my God. That’s terrible.”

“It wasn’t pretty. The owner is my aunt, so I got a second chance. And a third.”

“And now you’re baking on the other side of the world.”

“Yeah, I was hired as a pastry chef for a Michelin-rated restaurant in the city at a time when…” I scratched my neck awkwardly, wondering how to finish that sentence. “I needed to shake up my life and make a change or two. My plan was to stay for a year, learn some new tricks of the trade, then head home and open my own shop.”

“But you stayed,” Theo finished.

“Yep.”

“Do you have your own shop in London?”

“Not at the moment,” I admitted. “I had one in Notting Hill for three years, but the owner wanted to sell the property when the lease was up. I’ve been looking, but nothing has felt right.”

“How do you sell your goods then?”

“I have long-standing relationships with some cafes and restaurants around the city. Plus, I cater and make wedding cakes. And I have two pop-up locations with short-term leases.”

“That’s good.” He did the hand-grab thing again and flashed his baby blues my way. “Please tell me you make cupcakes.”

I snickered. “You like cupcakes?”

“Who doesn’t love a pint-sized excuse to eat cake?” Theo countered. “Crazy people, that’s who. I’m partial to anything with chocolate, but I’ll never say no to red velvet or coconut or even vanilla.”

“Good to know. My best sellers are my red velvet cake, my Victoria sponge, Bakewell tarts, and raspberry scones, but I make everything…including bread,” I replied, adding, “and my friend, Becca, is my in-shop pie expert.”

“Mmm. Sounds delish. But…no cupcakes?”

“To be honest, I’m more likely to make fairy cakes. They’re the British version of a cupcake, but they’re smaller and have less frosting.”

Theo gasped in delight. “Fairy cakes! Those sound right up my alley.”