Page 24 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

He doesn’t push me out of the way, but he definitely lets me know he’s there to help. To wash dishes. What man willingly volunteers to wash dishes? My ex-husband hated it. He would rather have left a pile beside the sink than take a few minutes to wash them.

But Kameron understands that dishes are a part of owning a food-based business. To be completely transparent, that alone boosts his hotness by a million percent. Why? Because any man who helps with any of those pesky “woman’s” household chores is a man to marry.

Not that I’m thinking of marrying him.

I’m not.

Why would I?

Our relationship is fake, even if the orgasms weren’t.

But a real relationship isn’t built on orgasms, and while we have chemistry, that still doesn’t scream long-term relationship.

It screams fun while it lasts.

Ignoring my Debbie Downer moment and the way my heart sinks at the thought, I head to the freezer to retrieve my cake rounds. I pull all three out and place them on my workstation.

“You froze your cakes?”

I glance over at Kameron, who’s watching me intently, and nod. “It makes it easier to decorate.”

After a couple of seconds, he offers a simple, “Huh.”

I retrieve my ingredients for the vanilla buttercream and set them aside.

The butter was already pulled from the refrigerator and should be room temperature soon, which is the one step you don’t want to forget.

Anytime I’m prepping to decorate, if I’m making buttercream frosting, the butter must be warmed to room temperature.

Otherwise, it doesn’t blend well and doesn’t give the best results.

Just as I start adding the ingredients to my mixing bowl, I hear the bell chime over the door. Kameron is just finishing drying the second pan, setting them aside on the counter, and turns to me. “I’ll get it.”

Surprise must transform my face. “You’ll get it?”

He shrugs. “Yep. I’ll holler if I need anything.”

I should continue to prepare the icing, but I can’t. I want to witness the moment Kameron goes up front to help the customer. Plus, I’m sure he’s going to need help. Whether it be for a coffee or blended drink or using the register, I know he’ll have a question or two.

“Kameron! What in the world are you doing here?”

I push through the swinging café doors that separate the front serving area and counter from the kitchen and find one of my favorite customers at the counter, having recognized her voice.

“Hi, Mrs. Rhodes,” he replies to Gabe and Hallie’s mom.

“Oh, stop that. Call me Debbie.” She looks over at me and smiles.

“I heard there was a new budding relationship in town, and I’m so happy to see it’s true.

Two of my favorite people,” the woman proclaims. To Kameron, she adds, “It’s been a while since you’ve come over for dinner.

Now I see why.” She adds a wink with her smile.

Kameron chuckles. “It’s new. We’ve been taking it slow,” he says to her, glancing over his shoulder and meeting my gaze.

“Well, I admit, this is a pleasant surprise. When I decided to stop by and see what sweet treats were left for the day, I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

“Jillian is preparing to decorate a cake, so I offered to help her out. What can I get you?” he asks, lifting his chin and clearly falling into his self-proclaimed job easily.

“I’m happy to see cookies. I’d like a half-dozen,” she informs Kameron.

When he looks my way, I point to the middle-sized white box on the shelf. It’ll hold six cookies perfectly and make transportation easier.

Kameron grabs the top box and opens it up.

Before I can say a word, he grabs one of the clear serving gloves from the box and slips it on his hand.

Both Debbie and I laugh when we notice the tight fit.

I stock the medium size since everyone who works here has smaller hands, but it’s clear Kameron could use a larger size.

You know what they say about big hands, right?

It’s true.

I fight the blush and turn my attention to watching him open the case. “What flavors would you like?”

“I’m not picky. Surprise me,” she tells him.

Kameron pulls out two chocolate chunk cookies, one frosted sugar cookie, a chocolate drizzled peanut butter cup cookie, and two strawberry shortcake cookies. “Is that all?” he asks, closing the box.

“That is,” she confirms, retrieving cash from her purse.

Kameron turns and grabs a small square box, one that fits a cupcake or piece of cake. He slips a lemon cupcake from the case and sets it inside. “My treat,” he tells her as he places the small box on the counter.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she insists.

“Yes, I do. I had one earlier, and it was amazing. So I’m buying one for the woman I’ve always considered a second mom,” he tells her. There’s a heaviness in his words, in the insinuation.

I can’t help but notice Debbie tear up, seeming to struggle to swallow over an onslaught of emotions. “Well, I’ll think of you the entire time I enjoy my afternoon treat.”

He rips off the glove and tosses it in the trash can before moving to the cash register.

It’s an electronic device, with a touchscreen and easy to find categories.

I don’t have any specifics on the screen, just a generalized listing like cupcake, slice of cake, cookies, and more.

So it’s not hard for him to figure out how to use it, and he’s able to add a half-dozen cookies to the order quickly.

Only when he goes to total it do I step forward and help.

“Since it’s after noon, everything from the case is half price,” I remind him.

He watches as I tap on the discount button and indicate it’s a fifty percent off item.

My cookies are two dollars each, and a dozen receives a free thirteenth one.

The baker’s dozen special, as I call it.

“Six forty-two,” Kameron tells Debbie, who hands over a ten-dollar bill.

He easily makes change and slides her treats toward her as she adds her change to the tip jar. “Thanks for visiting Flour Power Bakery. Come back soon,” he says, making me smile.

“Oh, you know I will. And Roger and I will be by the restaurant this weekend. Our anniversary is coming up, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than with a wonderful meal made by my son’s best friend.

The one who helped eat me out of house and home during those horrible growing pain years of high school. ”

Kameron chuckles. “I think I owe you more than just a cupcake,” he says with a wink. “I probably owe you a few dinners too.”

“Don’t you even think about it.” She gives him a stern look before abandoning her purse beside her pastry boxes and walking around the counter. She throws her arms up, indicating she’s expecting a hug from Kameron.

He obliges, stepping into her embrace and giving her a hard squeeze. She’s so much smaller than he is, but neither seems to mind. Their embrace lasts several long seconds, and I feel my own emotions lodging in my throat. I know I should look away, to let them have their private moment, but I can’t.

Finally, they pull away and she offers me a hug as well. “Be good to my boy. He has a tough exterior, but his heart is pure gold.”

I nod, not able to find words all of a sudden.

“I’ll leave you two to get back to work,” she says, retrieving her purse and boxes. “Thank you for this. You’ve both made my entire day.”

“See you this weekend,” Kameron says. “I’ll save you the best seat in the house.”

She offers another motherly smile, full of fondness and adoration, before heading for the door. With one final wave, she exits the bakery, leaving us alone once more.

He taps on the screen, ringing up a cupcake—the one he gifted Debbie.

I can’t help but notice he doesn’t add the fifty percent off discount, and before I can say a word about it, he hits total and pulls money from his wallet.

Not only does he pay full price for the treat, but he also puts the change in the tip jar.

Turning back to me, I can’t help but notice how utterly perfect this man is. From his handsome, rugged good looks to his willingness to help and learn. Plus, he knows his way around a kitchen.

And a female body.

I need to remember this is fake.

Clapping his hands together, he offers me a big grin. “Let’s decorate a cake.”

Yeah, I’m toast.