SHAY
ICE ON HIS crotch.
Ice on my forehead.
Sitting side by side while the rest of the class mixes cocktails and the sweet, buttery smell of cinnamon baking rolls fills the air.
That’s when he tells me the suitcase he brought isn’t mine. Which means all those rushing vibrators don’t belong to me, and I completely embraced myself for nothing.
“It could happen to anyone.” He drops his ice pack into the ceramic bowl on the dining room table.
Ice clinks and water spills over the rim, beading across the wood.
He shifts, and his thigh brushes mine.
I pretend it didn’t happen. We’ve already had enough accidental intimacy for one afternoon.
I tilt my head at him, and the pain beneath the ice is muted.
“Of course it could.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “When doesn’t a woman crash a baking event and take credit for a suitcase full of vibrators?”
He laughs, deep and warm right in my ear, making the situation feel smaller.
Lighter.
Less awkward.
My lips twitch before I can stop them.
“That’s it.” His arm nudges mine. “It’s funny.”
“It’s humiliating.”
He shakes his head. “I partner with brands like that all the time. Toys sell well with my content.”
His content. Right. The whole naked-baker, make-women-drool-on-their-phones thing. An internet thirst trap with a whisk.
Apparently, that’s a career now.
Who am I to judge? It’s not like I’ve got anything figured out. I have no career. No idea what kind of career I want. Just a rough route scribbled in my head, a broken-down car, and a concussion earned while nearly dry-humping a stranger in public.
My life is a mess.
He turns fully toward me. “Hold still.”
Before I can argue, his fingers slide under mine and lift the ice away from my forehead.
Cool air kisses skin that instantly throbs in protest.
He leans in, close enough that I can smell cinnamon and sugar on his breath.
His thumb presses gently, testing.
“And the ladies were expecting them,” he says, distracted by my wound. “So it’s not like they’re shy about vibrators.”
I wince. Partly from the pressure, but mainly from the word coming out of his mouth so casually.
Talking about dildos and vibrators with him feels like crossing some invisible line I’m not prepared for.
