Page 2 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“They aren’t your cupcakes,” she protested. “It’s just rude.”

“It was the best cupcake I have ever eaten.”

That deflated her anger until she saw the icing and the obvious well I had left behind in the bucket. Her anger returned in a flash. She shoved the half-eaten cupcake at me and waved her hands as if shooing away a pesky bird.

“Take it and go. Don’t touch my cake!”

Her cake?

She pushed at me ineffectually. “Get away!” she repeated. “What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks are you doing in here anyway?”

I blinked, not moving, finding myself enraptured by her fury.

H-e-double what?

She barely came to my chest. I outweighed her by eighty pounds easily. I could pick her up and carry her without breaking a sweat. Snap her neck like one of the twigs she was so angry over my touching. She was younger than me. A lot younger than my thirty-eight years. Dressed in yellow overalls with a black T-shirt underneath that had stripes on the arms, she resembled an angry bee, and I was obviously disturbing her little hive. Smears of icing decorated the bib of her overalls. Her brown hair was chaotic and messy, falling from a bun held haphazardly away from her face by chopsticks. Curls escaped and danced on her forehead and around her face like corkscrews. Her dark eyes were wide in fury, her cheeks flushed. I noticed more icing on her skin, and I was surprised to feel the urge to grab her face and lick it off.

Her anger brought me out of my odd thoughts.

“If you’ve made a mess of this, I will hunt you down and destroy you,” she seethed. “If I’m short a cupcake, I will make sure they know it wasn’t me. And don’t touch it. I saw you poking at it.”

“I merely touched a branch that was drooping.”

“I merely touched a branch,” she mimicked. “I’ll barely touch you with my foot in your ass. Now, back away!”

I held up my hands in supplication, trying to hide my amusement. If it were anyone else speaking to me this way, they would face my wrath. But I found her misplaced ire oddly endearing. I liked her spark.

“You think this is funny?” she snarled. “I’ve been creating this for days. Weeks. And you come in and touch it? I have no idea who you are, but I will get you fired!” she threatened.

“I don’t work here, Little Bee,” I said, wanting to provoke her a little more. “Put away the stinger.”

She reacted exactly the way I thought she would.

“Don’t call me that. You’re trespassing.” She pointed to the door. “Get out, or I’ll call the police.”

I felt my lips quirk. She was so angry she was shaking. I found it adorable, which was odd.

I hated adorable.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” I asked. Obviously, Paolo’s instructions hadn’t included my speaking to her. She was fearless, standing in front of me, telling me off. It was captivating.

“A legend in your own mind, obviously. I don’t give a flipping care who you are. The big bad wolf, for all I know. I’m here to finish this job, and I’m not going to let you stop me. Now, go away.” She spun on her heel, picking up the airbrush and tilting her head, studying the cake sculpture and ignoring me.

I stepped closer. “You made this?” I asked quietly, breathing in the scent of vanilla, maple, chocolate, and spice. And something else. Something floral and feminine.

It was her. And once again, I liked it.

She paused, unsure of how to stay angry but still reply. “Yes. I did.”

“All on your own?” I was shocked. It was such a massive undertaking I had assumed an entire group of people worked on it. Not one slip of a woman.

She turned her head, and I saw another smear of icing close to her ear, right next to a dimple I hadn’t noticed. “Yes.”

“Impressive. It is a work of art.”

She blinked, looked at the display, sliding a cupcake into the right position. Her voice and expression softened. “It was meant to be.”

“Did you design it?”