Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

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Jordan didn’t know why she was baiting Molly so much. Maybe because ever since they’d kissed, Molly went out of her way to pretend she was invisible. But the once-over Molly gave her when she’d walked in the door said otherwise, and Jordan didn’t plan to ignore those signals any longer.

She pushed up from the table and followed Molly into the kitchen. She found her kicking the hell out of a dishwasher, which was mildly amusing. “Well, you two clearly aren’t getting along. Everything okay?”

Molly shot her a death look. “Yes, Jordan. Everything is fine other than the fact that the damn dishwasher won’t kick into gear.” As Molly geared up for a second assault, Jordan held up a hand and stepped in.

“May I? I don’t think it can take much more.”

Molly blew a strand of hair off her forehead in defeat. “Might as well.”

With gentle hands and one firm push, Jordan was able to reseat the dishwasher and smiled widely at Molly when the sounds of rushing water answered back. “Tada.”

“Congratulations. Even the dishwasher gives you whatever the hell you want.” She didn’t mean it, but Jordan smiled wider, enjoying the game.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. So about the movie?”

“You’re not listening. No movie.”

“Because you’re avoiding me.”

“Because I’m exhausted.”

“We can watch one together at your place. Or mine, but seeing as how it’s a couple hours away in Chicago, it might make it a long night. So maybe yours.”

“I think I need some alone time tonight.”

Feeling alive for the first time in so long, Jordan took a step into Molly, effectively trapping her between the counter and her body. Molly’s eyes widened and she inhaled noticeably as Jordan placed her hands on her waist, her thumbs possessively across Molly’s abdomen. Her eyes took a pass at Jordan’s mouth and she knew, just knew, Molly was thinking about that kiss. “Are you sure?” Jordan asked quietly, dipping her head, already so close to Molly’s mouth. She remembered how it felt on hers just a few nights ago.

Molly nodded slowly, but the way her eyes fixated on Jordan’s lips left room for question. They hovered there for a moment, breathing in the same air. The tension was thick. Jordan felt it all over.

Molly spoke just above a whisper. “I can’t do this with you, Jordan. What would that say about me? What kind of person I am?” Slowly, Jordan slid her hand into Molly’s hair. It felt like spun silk on her skin.

“That you’re human. That you feel things. What are you feeling right now?” She returned her hands to Molly’s waist and inched them slowly up her rib cage, stopping only when her thumbs came just beneath her breasts, tracing the curve below.

Molly’s lips parted slightly in surprise and she hitched in another breath. “You know what I’m feeling. You always seem to know.”

Jordan was surprised by the admission and how quickly her body was responding to Molly’s. The electricity was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Off the charts, actually. Jordan moved in closer until their bodies touched fully. They were both breathing a little erratically. Jordan stared into Molly’s eyes and watched as the tiny flecks heated to gold.

Yep. They were on the same page.

“The thing is, I feel it too, Mol.” She lingered there for several wonderful yet torturous moments before finally taking a slow step away.

She made her way to the swinging door that led to the front of the bakeshop. “You know what I want. Ball’s in your court.”

Chapter Thirteen

Soft rock played quietly from the iPod dock in Molly’s green and white kitchen three nights later. She loved her kitchen. It was probably her favorite room in the entire world, homey and smelling of fresh spices she kept on the rack. It was nearly eleven that night, and even though she had to be up at four the next morning, she was in project mode and very little got in her way when that happened.

Baking had always been her security blanket, and after the week she’d had, the kitchen called out to her. Instead of dwelling on the things that bothered her, she could lose herself in the creation of something sweet and wonderful and the world would be a better place when she was done, wouldn’t it?

Peanut butter cups were the mission du jour and she was up to her arms in flour. Encouraged by Pink Floyd and the way her mind got all soft and slow when she baked, Molly kept her head down and her hands moving as she sashayed her hips in time to the music. Therapy, she thought.

She danced her way to the too high cabinet above the stove and felt blindly for the jar of peanut butter she kept there. But damn, it was empty because she’d needed therapy the week before too, when she’d stayed up all night perfecting her chocolate chip pound cake and then the five thousandth batch of MollyDollys she’d need for the festival.

Derailed and furious at herself for forgetting to pick up a new jar at the grocery store, she stood in the kitchen weighing her options. This was not an ideal situation, this peanut butter crisis, but it wasn’t insurmountable. When one needed peanut butter, one should venture out into the world and get some. So she grabbed her keys and headed to the bakeshop. Once there, she quickly flipped on the lights and scanned the shelves of the walk-in pantry until she located the large jar they kept there. In another horrifying peanut butter blow, they were virtually out there too. She checked the paperwork, and sure enough, Eden had added peanut butter to this week’s grocery order.

Well, damn it all to confectioner’s hell.

She checked her watch. It was after eleven thirty and Conyers Grocery would be closed for the night. But she was this far in. Why not take the drive to Franklin? It was only one town over? It would take her eighteen minutes each way, but it was a matter of principle now.

She wasn’t going down like this.

She hopped back into her car and set out on the winding, dark farm road. Surprisingly, she found herself actually enjoying the late night drive. As the Eagles sang about Hotel California on her radio, her mind drifted to the very thing that had her baking in overdrive.

When Jordan left her standing alone in the bakeshop’s kitchen three days ago, she’d drawn in a shaky breath and struggled desperately to regain her equilibrium. When it came to Jordan, it seemed her mind and body were in a war for the ages. As Jordan had pressed up against her in those shorts and thin work out top, she’d felt it all the way down to her toes. She now understood that she was more attracted to Jordan than even she realized. The very person she could not be attracted to by the laws of the Universe.

But she knew the power they carried now. The two of them.

She’d felt it full on in the kitchen. And all she had to do was avoid moments like those, delicious as they may feel, at all costs. Because there was guilt involved, a whole hell of a lot of it, and Molly had spent the rest of the week bathed in it. Not to mention what it would do to her relationship with the Tuscanas. It was hard enough for Amalia to hear she was interested in dating again, but her becoming romantically involved with Jordan could devastate the balance and ruin their relationship forever.

On the other side of the coin, she hated what this newfound dynamic was doing to who she and Jordan were to each other. Jordan was important and by pushing her away, she was losing her altogether and that didn’t feel right either.

Because when Jordan arrived back in town, something shifted into gear for Molly. The shop was going under, but just having Jordan around again made her feel that there was hope for Flour Child. For the future. For her.