"Oven mitts," Hawthorn said without looking up from the dough he was shaping.
I held them out. His fingers glided over my skin and my hand tingled as it did every time we touched. Hawthorn's jawtightened in response and I wondered, did he feel it too? Or was it a nuisance? Or worse, something that turned his stomach?
"Thanks." He took the mitts and turned away abruptly.
I was beginning to recognize his tells. His shoulders became rigid when I got too close and his hands moved faster and more aggressively through the dough when he took a deep breath and caught my scent. And a muscle ticked in his jaw when our eyes met for too long.
Was he counting the days until I left town? Sometimes I wanted to ask him if I made him uncomfortable. But I tamped down those questions because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
My wolf kept urging me to get to know Hawthorn better. But he was my boss. He'd taken a chance on me, and this job was temporary. I couldn't allow any relationship complications to derail my life even if that rich espresso scent made my knees weak every morning when I walked through the door.
Hawthorn pulled out a tray of gingerbread cookies from the oven. The smell of molasses, ginger and cinnamon filled the air. He set them on the cooling rack, and the subtle rippleof muscle along his forearms caught my attention.
"Those are the last of the cookies for the Axley’s Christmas party." He wiped his hands on his apron. "Two hundred cookies shaped like snowflakes but they need to be iced."
"I can help with that."
"You don't know how to ice cookies."
“Teach me." I moved close enough that the heat radiating from him blazed over me and the espresso scent was intensified by the warmth of the ovens. "I’m a fast learner, remember?"
Hawthorn's nostrils flared. Was he scenting me? I was aware of my scent getting stronger when I was near him. My body was advertising my interest whether I wanted it to or not.
"Fine." His voice had that gravelly edge and again a flush crept over my skin. "But if you mess them up, you're starting over."
He showed me how to mix the royal icing and fill the piping bags which was simple enough. But creating delicate snowflake patterns on each cookie required skill. His hands were steady but I was concentrating on something other than the technique, especially his long fingers when he squeezed the piping bag. Goosebumps crawled over my skin as I wondered how those fingers would feel digging into my bare flesh.
“Are you paying attention?"
I jerked up. Hawthorn was watching me with those dark eyes, and his wolf was at the forefront, making his gaze almost predatory. My cheeks flamed and I wished I could dunk my head in ice water.
"Yes." My voice came out breathier than usual. "You want snowflake patterns. I’ve got it."
“Show me.”
There were a few things I’d like to show him, but none of them were appropriate for the workplace. Sweat dribbled down my spine into my briefs.
He handed me a piping bag. I focused on the cookie in front of me, trying to ignore how close Hawthorn was standing and how good he smelled. The espresso aroma was so uniquely him and it made my mouth water.
My mind wasn’t on what I was doing but rather what I wanted to do to him and the snowflake came out lopsided. Damn. I was tempted to blame my wolf but he said it was all me.
"Try again." Was that amusement in his voice and was it because of the cookies? "Slower this time and keep the pressure steady."
I tried again. It was better, but still not great. I was acing everything else at the bakery. Why couldn't I get this right?
"Here." Hawthorn moved behind me, and his hand covered mine as he guided the piping bag. His chest pressed against my back while his breath warmed my neck. Oh gods, every nerve ending in my body lit up like Christmas lights and I hoped I wasn’t sparkling. My wolf was doing backflips because he was so excited.
"Steady." His husky voice in my ear sent blood surging into my length. "Don't rush it."
The snowflake formed under our joined hands. But I couldn't breathe or think of anything other than his hands on mine. My wolf was practically howling with joy at being in Hawthorn’s arms.
Then I felt it. The unmistakable hardness pressing against my lower back. Hawthorn was aroused. So it wasn’t just me. He wanted what I did.
But with no warning, he let me go and put three feet of space between us.
"Keep practicing. I need to check the bread."
He almost scurried away to the other side of the kitchen.
