Page 23 of Matthias’s Protective Embrace (Cardinal Falls #3)

“I’ll see if I can get your father to help with the last tray.” Mrs. Rosso looks longingly at another pan full of undecorated dough. It takes all my self-control to hold back a chuckle. This woman is a master manipulator.

Frank gives me a look I can’t read. My manners tell me we should stay and help.

It’ll only take a few more minutes and then we can be out of here, consciences clean.

Plus, his mom will be much happier. On the other hand, I can tell Frank’s anxious for us to get going.

If I let her, I suspect Mrs. Rosso would find new tasks for the two of us to complete all night long.

That’s probably at least half the reason Frank doesn’t like spending time here between his packed schedule.

“Well, I think we have time to do that last tray, but then we really do have to go so we can make our reservation.” I stress the word but , making sure she hears it.

“Thank you, Matthias. I don’t know what I’d do without Frank’s help.

He’s famous, you know. Everyone at church is so happy he’s back home and helping with the cookies again.

We make more money with the ones he decorates.

” I suspect at least half of that’s true.

Frank turns a shade of bright red that starts at his face and spreads down his trunk and arms. I can’t help but wonder how far down his body it stretches.

Maybe later tonight I’ll get a chance to find out.

A new tray of cookies appears in front of us. Frank’s shoulders sink as he stares at all the undecorated shapes.

“I’ll leave you boys to it.” She hangs her apron up on the back of a cabinet and uses it to wipe her hands. “I’ll be in the other room if you need any help.”

“This is going to take forever,” Frank whines .

“Not if we work together.” He gives me a sly look. My cookie decorating skills might be on par with an elementary schooler, but at least I know how to keep the sugar on the cookies and not in the pan. “Give me instructions. It’ll speed things up.”

I can see he wants to make a dirty joke about it but refrains. “Can you do a dusting of red sugar on each of the maple leaves?”

“Sure.” Am I supposed to know which ones are maple leaves?

There are four different shapes on the tray, which means I’ve got a twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

I dig through my brain for information, but I’m at a loss.

Lucky for me, Frank bails me out, pointing to one of the larger shapes.

“Thanks.” I grab the deep red sugar shaker and get to work, carefully sprinkling it over each of the maple leaves.

“How’d I do?” I’m not sure I want an honest assessment, but Frank gives me a nod that warms my chest.

“Okay, now the yellow on these.” He points to a different shape, another leaf I can’t identify.

We switch spots a few times to allow each of us better access to the work area. Despite my best efforts, some of the sugar doesn’t make it to a cookie. Hopefully, Frank doesn’t get blamed for my mess.

It takes us at least thirty minutes, but eventually, Frank is content with the way they look.

“Are we good to go then?” I admire our work—well, mostly Frank’s work. It’s not bakery quality, but I suspect they’ll bring in some good money at the bake sale.

“Shhhh…” He holds a finger up to his mouth.

“Keep quiet.” His face is so serious that I manage to stifle a laugh.

“We’re gonna sneak out.” I’m not sure I like that plan; it won’t win me any points with his parents, but since it’s my fa ult we ended up in this position in the first place, I’m not going to argue.

We did a lot for them this evening. I must have a few points in reserve at this stage. “Grab your coat,” he whispers.

I swipe my jacket from the chair, peering around the corner to see if anyone’s watching.

The hallway’s clear, so I duck back into the kitchen.

I’m a little sad to see Frank has lost the apron, but the disappointment disappears when he pulls on a beautiful black sweater.

It looks stunning on him, hugging his body in all the right places and bringing out the color of his freckles.

He motions to me to follow him as we sneak around through the kitchen toward the front door.

He grabs his shoes and cracks the front door open.

I grimace, waiting to hear a creaking sound, but nothing happens.

How many times has he snuck out of this house?

Probably more than I want to think about.

He slips out, holding the door open for me to follow.

I have to push it open a little more, not able to slide through the same slim opening he did.

As soon as I’m out, he sticks his head inside. “Cookies are done. Bye,” he calls loudly, shutting the door behind him. “Go, go, go.” He takes off toward my car, still carrying his shoes.

I can’t help but laugh watching him. He might be in a rush to get away from his parents, but there’s something about the carefree way he runs across the front yard in his socks, waiting for me to follow, that makes my chest swell.

That playfulness is something my life has been missing for a long time.

Everything over the past twenty years has been focused on my education and career, neither of which has left much time for fun.

Now that I’m here, it’s clear that I missed out on a lot. Hopefully, Frank will reintroduce me to those simple joys.

He waits for me by the passenger door. I hold back on clicking the button to unlock it until I’m right next to him.

“Let me get the door for you.” It’s the right thing to say based on the little shiver that runs through him.

If that’s his response to such a simple gesture, I can’t imagine what he’ll be like in bed.

It’s going to be a long night at the restaurant waiting to get him home.

I adjust my cock as I make my way around the back of the car, willing it to behave for the next few hours. Frank deserves a real date, not a race to the bedroom.

“All set?”