“No, no, no,” I groan as I resist the urge to kick the oven in front of me.
“What’s wrong?” Neil questions, coming around the corner from the living room, a concerned expression on his face.
“My oven,” I cry out, gesturing toward it with both hands. “It’s acting up, and I don’t have time for this mess.” Sighing, I rip the oven mitt I had on off, tossing it onto the counter.
“I thought you finished the cookies last night.”
“I did,” I say. “But, I have orders I need to get started on tomorrow if I’m going to ship them out by Thursday. I’m already planning on being late to school that day because I need to drop the cookies off at the post office first thing in the morning.”
“Aren’t you still using that delivery service you told me about?”
“Yeah, but I only use them for special orders. These cookies are going to a couple of local customers and some more to Jackie. She’s working long hours, and I thought I’d send her a tin to make her feel better.”
Neil’s face softens, and he enters the kitchen, taking me into his arms. “You’re so damn caring. Jackie will love those. She often talked about how eating one of your cookies or pastries would brighten her mood when she was stressed.”
“I know, but thanks to my crappy oven, she might not get to taste them this year.” I frown as I turn to the oven, and this time I don’t stop myself when the urge to kick it strikes.
“Ouch! Dammit,” I squeal, remembering, thanks to the sharp pain, that I’m not wearing any shoes.
“Hey, hey, hey, I don’t think breaking shit is going to help anything.”
“It’ll help me release my anger,” I reply.
“Yeah? And how’s your foot feeling after that kick?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I have two feet, ya know. The oven might’ve won that round, but that won’t stop me from putting my other foot up your ass if you continue mocking me.”
Neil throws his head back and laughs, utterly unaffected by my threat. His laugh and presence are so damn effusive that they flood my senses, turning the heat down on my frustration and annoyance.
“Calm down there, ninja warrior. What if I lent you my kitchen to bake?”
I blink. “Really?”
“Why wouldn’t I open my home and kitchen to my woman when she needs it the most?” he asks as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
Neil stiffens, but his grip around my waist tightens. I hold my breath, awaiting his response. A million thoughts race through my mind. Is it too soon? Of course it is. We’ve been dating for what? Almost two months? Indeed, that’s too soon for the admission of love. Add to that the drama with my family. It’s been a little over a week since we returned from the mountains and I still haven’t spoken to my parents.
My mother hasn’t called or stopped by, and I haven’t done so either. Now, I’m standing in my kitchen, my oven on the fritz during the busiest time of year, and a guy I just admitted to loving after eight weeks of dating.
“I love you, too,” he finally says.
Air whooshes from my lungs, and I feel as if my heart starts beating again. “Good. I thought I was going to have to bury your body in the woods somewhere to live down this embarrassment if you didn’t say it back.”
Neil’s laughter is infections. “Baby, that’s the second time in five minutes that you’ve threatened me.”
I give him a lopsided grin. “What’s your point?”
“My point is,” he growls, pulling me tightly into his firm body, “that you’re starting to turn me on.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Not seeing a problem there.”
He chuckles some more before placing a kiss to the side of my neck. “It is when I have to leave in five minutes if I’m going to make it to work on time.”
Frowning, I say, “Details.” I roll my eyes at the reminder that we both still have day jobs that we need to get to.
“Of course, if you owned and worked at that bakery, you could make your own hours. Also, it would alleviate the trouble of you having to deal with this unreliable oven.”
