“One can only dream and bake her buns off to make it so.”
Aspen silently reminded herself that she also needed to work harder at not noticing (cue panting, lusting) after a hot, hockey player.She needed to live in the moment and welcome the friendship he offered.
Mia wrapped her arms around Aspen in a tight hug.“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“I need to get back to the shop to bake a batch of‘Sweet Dreams are Made of This’cupcakes,” Aspen described her cherry-chocolate cakes inspired by the eighties hit song by theEurythmics.“Enough about me.How are things going with Matt since he gave you the friends-only-speech?”
“Honestly?I’m still pissed, but instead of getting mad, I’m getting even.”
Aspen offered a weary look.“Oh, boy, do I want to hear this?”
“It’s fine.Let’s just say I’m working to short-circuit his Harvard-trained-brain at every turn.”
“With your feisty Italian sass?”
“Actually, not words...more like shorty-short sleepwear and lots of extra wiggles when I think he’s looking.”
“Iknowhe’s looking, and I can only imagine the torture you’re putting him through,” Aspen could only imagine herself trying to temp Connor in that way, but came up short.“You’re such a vixen, girl.I need to name a cupcake after you.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know I’ve been pushing Matt’s buttons.The poor boy had an unfortunate run-in with the counter that came close to hitting a very special, very private part of his anatomy,” Mia waggled her eyebrows.
“Poor guy.”
Aspen was convinced Connor would see through any attempt at trying to seduce him through blatant flirting via playful words or seductive actions.Besides that, Aspen was certain she did not possess a seductive bone in her body.To build off that sobering factoid, Aspen didn’t have time for the type of reindeer games Mia played with Matt.
Business.All about the business.
“Like I said, I’m getting tired of Matt making decisions for both of us, so I’m just showing him what he’s missing,” Mia shook her head, obvious frustration poking at her senses.“Can you make the new cupcake inspired by me named something like‘Take No Prisoners’or something wicked like that?”
“Done.Maybe something that combines a cannoli and something snappy.”Aspen’s mind began spinning at the ingredients to build a new cupcake motivated by her feisty friend.“See you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early!”
After one more hug, Aspen jumped into her SUV and headed back to the shop.
Thinking about the tasks she needed to complete, Aspen needed to focus on the job at hand and not longing to feel the way her body responded to Connor’s demanding kisses.
“He’s not interested in you anyway,” Aspen responded into the empty cab of her vehicle and smacked the steering wheel a few times for good measure.
Frowning and realizing the palms of her hands were hurting a bit, she heard a car horn.Oh.Yeah.She had forgotten for a moment she was in traffic and slapping the steering wheel got the attention of a driver in a boat of a Buick waiting at the same traffic light.
With a slight wave and a look that (hopefully) screamed she wasn’t bonkers, Aspen accelerated forward once the light turned green.But it was hard to keep her attention on her surroundings and her mind went back to recalling the events over the past week since the infamousWheel of Fortunekiss.
Yes, it was amazing.The way it started so slowly then escalated to heavy breathing, heads angling for position, and sweet buttermilk biscuits, the way his tongue danced with hers.
She was on complete and total sensory overload, which probably resulted in her crashing on the couch when he retreated to the kitchen.He probably thought she wasn’t interested, which is why Connor friend-zoned her like Matt currently engaged Mia.
It was all for the best.No time.Not looking for...whatever sparked between them.Besides the business mantra that consumed her waking and sometimes sleeping moments, she was too much of a chicken to broach Connor about the subject.
She’d just continue her focus on working toward the black in her business ledger and remain forever-indebted to herfriend, and hot-as-hell construction guy, donating his time and talents to getting her shop on the mend.
Reaching her bakery, Aspen slid into an open two-hour parking slot—thank you parking gods—so she could unload before moving her vehicle into the garage located beneath her apartment building.
Before she could unbuckle her seatbelt, her cellphone began to ring, the display showing theFun4Summername.Aspen took a deep breath, her hands shaking.
Ohmygosh.Ohmygosh.Sound calm.Sound professional.“This is Aspen.”
“Aspen, this is Josh, director of theFun4Summerprogram here in Denver.”
