Page 74 of Merry Fake Bride

It was so sudden but so welcomed, and I kick myself for ruining it by touching her cheek.

I shouldn’t have passed that boundary but as soon as her soft lips collided with mine, I was wrestling every overwhelming urge to sweep her up in my arms and kiss her until we were both panting and aching.

Just one kiss was enough to give me a raging hard-on that took hours to fade, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

Her soft lips, the sweet way she could only reach my lower lip from her angle, and the burning, searing contact of her hand on my arm that I never wanted to end.

And she was right.

That kiss, as brief and sudden as it was, immediately soothed the rawness from my confession and I knew I’d done the right thing.

Regardless of what happens between us, sharing my pain with her was freeing.

I’m holding onto that feeling for the rest of my life.

“Sorry, Margaret.” I grin as we set the last cake down in the freezer. “I hate to break things off with you so soon, but we both knew this couldn’t last.”

“A gal can dream.” She croaks with laughter. “I expect you here when I reopen as payment for my freezer space.”

“If that’s all it costs then as soon as the snow thaws enough for you to reopen, I will be here.”

“It’s a date!” She cackles as she closes the door, and I hurry back across the snow-turned-slushy street to the bakery.

“Are we good?” I ask once inside, stomping snow from my shoes.

“We only lost two cakes,” Devon says, leaning over the counter and rapidly scribbling on a clipboard in front of her. “There’s no telling when the power will be back on, though, so in a pinch, I’ll have to remake yesterday’s compote and we’re going to need somuch fresh butter…” She trails off into a mumble as she makes notes, talking mostly to herself.

Martin lingers by a display case blowing on his hands to warm them up against the chill that’s swept into the bakery with no heating to keep it at bay.

“We’ve got another problem.” Hank stumbles through from the kitchen. “The Harrison wedding is still going ahead today and they just called demanding that the cake make it there on time.”

Devon looks up at her father. “Did you tell them about the blizzard?"

“Mmhmm.”

“And?”

“Mrs. Harrison to be said there was no snow on her side of the city so we should have no problem delivering the cake or the pastries for the Mr. and Mrs. display.”

“You’re joking.” Stress tightens Devon’s brow and she massages her temple. “That cake is five tiers. Even if we tried, there’s no way we’d be able to dig our way out of the town in time to deliver that cake or the pastries.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Hank mutters. “We could take the road to the highway and then double back.”

“There’s no time!” Devon throws her hands up. “Even without the snow, there wouldn’t be time for that. Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot about it…”

“Let me help.” An idea springs to mind as they discuss the difficulties of safely leaving the town with the cake. “I can get the cake there.”

“How?” Devon squints at me. “Even with Martin’s driving, your car will have to go slowly for at least five miles just to get out of town. After that, you have to get all the way to New York and then over to the other side. I’m not doubting your skills,” she says with a glance at Martin.

“Oh, I am,” Martin scoffs softly.

“But it’s impossible. And we have a truck for these deliveries, which is way more suited for snow than Martin’s car.”

“We don’t need to drive,” I say as I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. “Is there a park or a field nearby?”

“There’s the school grounds,” Hank says, visibly confused. “That’s the closest you’ll get to a field.”

“What are you doing?” Devon pushes off the counter and walks toward me, clipboard in hand as I lift the phone to my ear.