Evie sucked in a shocked breath.
“My wife, Elizabeth - Liz - and I had a son… he was the light of my life. Things were difficult between us, but when Archie was born, I was determined to turn things around.”
Evie knew something awful was coming and already felt indignant on Shepherd’s behalf. What sane woman had let this man go?
A bleak look came into his eyes, causing Evie’s tender heart to stutter. “But Liz wasn’t interested in working on our issues. She’d been having an affair, and it turned out Archie wasn’t even my son.”
“Oh!” The exclamation sounded like a bullet in the quiet of the bakery. Evie didn’t think, she threw herself at him, wanting nothing more than to comfort the hurt she knew he’d been nursing deep inside.
He gathered her to him. “It made me… cautious. And then with you and…” he gulped. “And Ollie… it brought everything back. I didn’t want to be vulnerable again. I didn’t want to get close to another little boy that wasn’t mine and have him yanked away from me.”
“Shepherd…” Evie didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know the right words.
Shepherd leaned back and searched her face. “So I ran away, because I was scared, and because what I really wanted was to kiss you over and over again.”
With that, he pressed a barely there butterfly kiss to lips that were open in shock before turning, collecting the deliveries, and tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll see you later,” complete with accompanying smirk.
Holy sheet cake!
What wasshe supposed to do now? Or actually, did she need to do anything? Neither of them was actually asking her for anything… were they?
Sugar! This was all so confusing. She’d been out of the dating game for far too long and didn’t know how it was played any more.
And then came Asher.
Evie had left Jane at the shop while she checked on her stall at the Frostvale Christmas Festival, since Asher had rung to say he was getting low on her signature Gingerbread Snowmen.
The festival was in full swing during this last week before Christmas, when it ran every day, and Evie was struggling to keep up with the baking. Next year, she needed to have a better plan, because one thing was clear; doing this as a single parent took more juggling than she’d been prepared for, and that was with Ollie spending the past week with his father.
Evie needed to consolidate her finances to see if she could afford to take on a full-time employee, and was relieved Gabe was going to help her with that.
“Thanks for watching the booth for me,” she was quick to tell Asher as soon as she arrived and started unpacking her goods. “And for letting me know we were running short. That was above and beyond.”
“Nonsense,” Asher denied. “We’re all earning a living, and I ‘m right here, so it’s no trouble.”
Evie didn’t altogether believe him, since the pair of them both suddenly had customers. She dealt with her own with the sneaking suspicion Asher was giving her own stand priority, rather than his own.
“A few more days and it will all be over,” Asher commented in the next lull.
“You’ll be able to hang up your Santa hat and stop worrying whether you’re going to scare some poor child so badly they pee on your lap,” Evie joked. Yes, that had really happened… more than once!
Asher looked at her, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I can think of someone I’d rather have sitting on my lap.”
He waggled his eyebrows, and her reflex was to laugh like he was making a joke.
“Or maybe over my knee.”
Wait!What did he just say?
Evie opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to think. Asher had never said anything so suggestive before, and… hang on - did he mean her?
He took a step closer and whispered in her ear, causing the fine hairs on her neck to stand up as a shiver rolled down her back.
“What do you think, Evie? Does Santa’s little elf deserve a Christmas spanking?”
A flurry of customers interrupted the moment - thank the gooey, chocolate goodness, because Evie couldn’t think. Her brain had short-circuited, and her clit throbbed, causing her to press her thighs together in a vain attempt to find some relief.
Son of a biscuit, she needed to get laid!
