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MACKENNA

T he sound of my phone ringing forces my eyes open just as the morning sun's rays greet me from outside my bedroom curtains. A groan crawls out of my throat as the soreness in my legs and back flares when I get out of bed.

My sister's voice is far too chipper when I pick up the screeching device. "Morning, Kenny Penny. Where are you? Are you home yet? I'm coming over unless you went home with some rando from the bar, and that's why your car is still parked outside On the Rocks."

My voice breaks as sleep fades further and further away from me. "You are way too hyper this morning, Maddie. I forgot I drove last night when I got a ride home. I'm going to hop in the shower. Come get me so I can pick it up."

"Fine, but you owe me breakfast," she replies and hangs up.

By the time she gets to me, I have to race out of the house before she decides to piss my neighbors off by honking in an obnoxious rhythm. Madison lets her hand hover above the horn, teasing me with impending chaos to force me to trot faster than I already am.

"You're such a dick," I laugh as I plop into the passenger seat.

"Speaking of dick, whose was it that made you forget about your car at the bar?" she asks with a giggle.

"I helped Dean after his bartender quit in the middle of his shift. He drove me home."

"That's it? He just drove you home? You guys have been beating around that bush—definitely not beating around your bush—for years now." She does an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"Don't be gross." I scoff and sing my next words playfully. "Stay out of my business, Mad Maddie."

She replies in a similar sing-song way. "I would stay out of your business if it didn't require me pushing my morning meeting back."

"I didn't tell you to wake me up at the crack of dawn, worried about why my car is parked in front of a bar."

She huffs and grins. "Considering you've been parking at this bar more than a few days a week, I'm right to be curious or even concerned. You're lucky Dad didn't see it. But this little ride also gets me breakfast. I want pancakes and?—"

I cut her off, finishing her usual order. "Scrambled eggs, extra cheesy, and an extra large coffee with two shots of espresso."

"Yes, yes, yes. Finally, someone who gets it right every time. I'm sure Dean would get your order right every time if you let him."

Shaking my head, my gaze shifts out the window. "Dean wants all or nothing."

"And why is that so bad? He's always been there for us, for you especially. I mean, you were a mess a few months ago. I know we were all mad that you forgot about our anniversary dinner for Mom, but you also dropped out of grad school to help our family when she got sick. It sucks that the burden fell on you. We forget how much her loss takes a toll on all of us."

I sigh. "Well, Dad was a mess. It was the right thing to do back then. Finishing grad school just didn't seem important anymore. Five years later, it's still not that important. I've been able to run my business with some degree of success, but these loans are killing me right now because it's so slow."

She lets out a soft exhale. "That's why it's only right that we try to help you after what you gave up for us. So listen to me now when I say, do something for yourself. Dean makes you happy. I know everything isn't perfect, but you should take a chance with him. Even if it's to distract you from work or inspire you to try something new to drum up more clients."

"Why are you sounding so reasonable this early in the morning? I like Dean a lot, but he is so quiet and grumpy, and I'm not. He's so considerate and has his life together, and I'm a fucking mess."

Maddie reaches over the center gear shift to tap my hand as she parks behind my car in front of the bar. In the brightness of the morning, there's a peaceful glow shining on the locked doors and shuttered windows.

I'm ready to get out when Maddie's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. She says, "You're not a mess. You've had a shitty eighteen months, and that's life. You've always told me not to let one setback set me all the way back."

"Maddie, it feels like everything is snowballing. These bills and loans are catching up to me. I can't thank you enough for helping me out, but it's not right for my younger sister to continually come to my financial rescue."

She smiles and inhales deeply with a side glance at me. "Don't mention it. We're family. Mom died your first year of grad school, and you took on everything for us. The least I can do is help you out whenever I can. And my help to you this morning, outside of dropping you off, is to tell you to date Dean. You've been crushing on him for as long as he's been making googly eyes at you."

"God, you're being extra weird this morning."

We laugh together while I try to bury the anxiety over upcoming bills that need to be paid.

She ignores me, playing her classic role as the middle child extremely well, saying, "I have some work for you once I get this house staged. I'll need some brochures and a social media campaign. You can come take a look at the place when you get a chance."

"Thanks, Maddie," I tell her as we both get out of her car.

She tips her face upward, inhaling deeply. "What is that delightful smell? Forget the pancakes. What's baking over there? That's Dean's bakery, too; why not plug him in with Rye and get some bakery ice cream collab working?"

"One thing at a time, Maddie. What you smell is a pecan streusel coffee cake muffin and probably snickerdoodle cookies that will be used to make ice cream sandwiches. On second thought, we should get Rye in on this. I was deliriously tired last night."

Maddie turns her gaze toward me. "How do you know what's on the menu?"

"Because after I helped Dean close the bar, I helped him prep the bakery, which is why my car is still here. He's probably in there right now."

Maddie doesn't let me get another word out before dragging me into the bakery, where I see the assistant baker desperately trying to man the counter as customers pile up. I skip the line to the aggravation of everyone waiting but step behind the glass display case.

It takes some convincing, but after giving her details of what's about to burn in those ovens, she lets me help. Maddie hangs back to watch in amazement as I manage the crowd and get customers out the door.

After I take over the register to help clear the morning rush, Maddie puts in a large order for the crew working on the house she's renovating. With a promise to be back after the lunch rush, she leaves me at the counter while the baker's assistant tends to the muffins and Snickerdoodle cookies. When the bell chimes over the door, I expect it to be Maddie, but instead Dean's shy smile greets me.

"Good morning, sleepy head." I flash him a grin as sweet as the muffins he has on sale.

"Mornin', Mackenna. I thought you'd be counting sheep right about now. What are you doing here?"

My eyes dart around the cozy bakery. White subway tiles line the walls, and black and soft beige floors brighten the place. The light birchwood tables offer warmth for customers sitting inside to eat their sweet treats. While I know Dean hates the social parts of his businesses, I can't help but push him to engage … even if it's just with me.

I motion my hand over my body behind the counter and then to the satisfied customers leaving the bakery. "Helping. So welcome to Sweet Treats, Mr. Rockland."

"Very funny, Mackenna."

A grin of teasing temptation eases across my face. "Can I offer you our muffin of the day? Pecan coffee cake? Or how about a chocolate chip one? The customers have been pairing it with the chai latte. There's also an order of three dozen donuts being picked up around two."

"You are doing way more work than the tips and day pay I gave you for working yesterday. Thank you for stepping in again." He leans in, and my thoughts scatter.

Fantasies of what could have happened last night erupt as I get the subtle scent of whiskey and coffee wafting off Dean. It's as if the air carries his cologne like snowflakes on a windless day. My heart skips a beat as he licks his top lip before reaching across the glass display case to wipe a smudge of cream off my face that I didn't realize was there.

He pulls his thumb away and sucks on it before asking, "Where is Dana and Evan? You know, my actual employees."

"Dana needed help, so I came in to help out. I only served a few customers and have been upholding the highest standards of service. I don't think Evan came in, so I'm behind here."

He keeps his voice low, whispering, "I'm happy to have you helping me out, Mackenna."

"But?"

He sighs. "But, based on how last night could have turned out, I think it's best if you stick to being a customer."

"That's no fun." I pretend to whine as I walk out from behind the register to stand beside him, inhaling that delectable scent of his.

"We can have all the fun in the world when I don't have a ton of work to do," he says.

"You always have a ton of work. How about you let me do some of that work for you? I can run the bar or help out here. I need to do something, Dean. My savings are drying up, and with Maddie being my only consistent client, I can't keep pushing bills to the side."

"I think I have a better idea. How much are your services?"

"Are you talking about digital marketing?"

He chuckles. "Yes. I've seen some of your stuff around town and think the bakery can use something new to drive business here. I was thinking about putting something together, but with Hank quitting, it looks like my time is going to be spent hiring a new bartender."

"I can put together a few proposals."

He flashes me a killer smile. "And share them with me over dinner tonight?"

"Where are we eating?"

"My place," he replies.

"What are we eating?"

"What do you have in mind?"

While inhaling every inch of his thick cock is the most appealing option to keep my mouth busy, I'm sure he wants me to offer up ideas about food. "I've been around sweets all morning. How about something savory, hearty, meaty?"

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and drops his gaze to my mouth. "I have something meaty for you. Does seven work?"

I don't remember the last time Dean was this playful, seductive even. He's usually timid, letting me guess what's on his mind unless his body tells me like it did last night. The anticipation of what can happen at dinner makes my nipples hard with desire. His fingers drove me wild, how much more his length sawing in and out of me? God, I need him like I need air.

"It does," I tell him.

The realization of how much I enjoy this spark between me and Dean feels like a feather could knock me over. I get a lightness in my chest whenever he’s around.

I gather my things to leave the bakery. We exchange information about incoming orders and what he's looking for in his marketing campaign. With everything I need to put together my proposals, I leave Dean with his coffee cake muffins and other delectable delights.

It's a boost to my mood and libido as I get to work once I bring my car back home. Excitement courses through me as I research Dean's target audience and all the possibilities for a successful marketing campaign.

When I look at his social media platforms, I'm practically gushing at the possibilities. Ideas flood in as I lose track of time until the sound of my phone's alarm ringing pulls me out of my trance. Thankfully, I won't be late for our dinner date.

A fresh shower, change of clothes, and putting together my proposals get me out of the house and on Dean's doorstep nearly ten minutes to seven. When he opens the door, a gust of aromas hits me just as my eyes take him in from head to toe.

Jesus. He puts all those hunky actors and models to shame.

Broad shoulders and a torso sculpted to perfection sit under a short-sleeved shirt that seems to taper toward his waist. Denim pants fit him nicely but hide one of my favorite parts of his body.

Sheesh. I can't remember the last time I've had sex, let alone go on a date, but seeing Dean like this makes me wonder if my lack of work is enough to keep me from committing to what he wants. Hell, it's time I acknowledge what I want.

And what I want is him. All of him.

"Are you going to come in or give me your proposal on the doorstep?" he asks, the side of his mouth lifting.

With my thoughts slamming to a halt, I follow him inside.

The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all in the same space. There's a large TV playing silently in the background. Some baking show is on as Dean grabs a towel off the dining table to handle a steaming pot in the kitchen.

"It's nothing fancy. Just meatballs, sauce, and, uh, you have some options. Pasta or baguette?"

"Pasta," I tell him, and he nods and makes me a heaping plate of food.

"So, Miss Monroe," he teases me like I did to him earlier. "Please tell me all the wonderful things I should do to drum up business for Sweet Treats."

I pull out my tablet and a few printouts to show him what I've been working on all day since he kicked me out of the bakery. Between work and catching up on time gone by, I've forgotten how easy it is for us to fall into comfortable conversation. Dinner is delicious, especially with the wine he's paired with it, and I sit back in amazement.

"It's incredible," he whispers, more to himself than to me. "I never thought of delivering videos of baking tips and recipes to devoted fans. Taking a few days out of the month to bank them all and schedule their send-out will take less time than I thought."

"That's only for subscribers, but we can tweak it once your fan base grows. You already have around ten thousand followers, which is phenomenal, considering you barely post. Your muffin of the day should be posted daily."

He chuckles. "It was great when it first started, but then it took off, and I couldn't run the businesses and the social media. I didn't have the time or the funds to hire someone full-time to manage it. I try to get around to it every few days. Thankfully, business in town keeps me floating way more than social media stuff."

"You've been coasting since, which is not bad considering how much you hate human interactions."

He laughs again, flashing me a half-cocked grin. "I don't hate human interactions. Patience with people isn't one of my strong suits."

"You've been patient with me."

He reaches across the table, hooking a finger under my chin to lift my gaze to his. "You're not people. You're my Mackenna."

I can barely stand how sweet he is to me when I don't feel like myself. I have to change the subject, gently moving away from his touch. I'm certain I sound abrupt as I speak. "This food is great, Dean. How is it that you bake, cook, and run the bakery and the bar so effortlessly? I feel like I'm losing the race of life, struggling to catch up to everyone around me."

Dean gets out of his seat to grab my plate. "It's life, Mackenna. There's no race. We all finish in the same place."

I follow him into the kitchen, where I help clear the dishes and wipe down the stove. We fall into a silent rhythm effortlessly—just like the bar, like everything between us. It's too easy, almost to the point that I don't deserve it.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean's voice cuts through our quiet movements.

"Anything."

"Why would you let me taste you, touch you, but when I want to feed you and help you, it's too much?"