Crumble & Bake

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Crap! I’d forgotten all about Josh’s cake.

I’d ordered it two weeks ago because that was the max lead time for

something from Crumble & Bake. It was Josh’s favorite dessert, a threelayer dark chocolate frosted with fudge and filled with chocolate pudding.

He only indulged on his birthday, but since he was leaving the country for a

year, I figured he could break his once-a-year rule.

“So…” I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face. “Don’t kill me,

but we need to make a detour to Crumble & Bake.”

“No. We’re already late.” Alex stopped at a red light. We’d made it back

to civilization, and I spotted the blurred outlines of a Starbucks and a

Panera through the rain-splattered glass.

My smile didn’t budge. “It’s a small detour. It’ll take fifteen minutes,

max. I just need to run in and pick up Josh’s cake. You know, the Death by

Chocolate he likes so much? He’ll be in Central America for a year, they

don’t have C&B down there, and he leaves in two days so—”

“Stop.” Alex’s fingers curled around the steering wheel, and my crazy,

hormonal mind latched onto how beautiful they were. That might sound

crazy because who has beautiful fingers? But he did. Physically, everything

about him was beautiful. The jade-green eyes that glared out from beneath

dark brows like chips hewn from a glacier; the sharp jawline and elegant,

sculpted cheekbones; the lean frame and thick, light brown hair that

somehow looked both tousled and perfectly coiffed. He resembled a statue

in an Italian museum come to life.

The insane urge to ruffle his hair like I would a kid’s gripped me, just so

he’d stop looking so perfect—which was quite irritating to the rest of us

mere mortals—but I didn’t have a death wish, so I kept my hands planted in

my lap.

“If I take you to Crumble & Bake, will you stop talking?”

No doubt he regretted picking me up.

My smile grew. “If you want.”

His lips thinned. “Fine.”

Yes!

Ava Chen: One.

Alex Volkov: Zero.

When we arrived at the bakery, I unbuckled my seatbelt and was

halfway out the door when Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back into

my seat. Contrary to what I’d expected, his touch wasn’t cold—it was

scorching, and it burned through my skin and muscles until I felt its warmth

in the pit of my stomach.

I swallowed hard. Stupid hormones. “What? We’re already late, and

they’re closing soon.”

“You can’t go out like that.” The tiniest hint of disapproval etched into

the corners of his mouth.

“Like what?” I asked, confused. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, nothing

scandalous.

Alex inclined his head toward my chest. I glanced down and let out a

horrified yelp. Because my shirt? White. Wet. Transparent. Not even a little

transparent, like you could kind of see my bra outline if you looked hard

enough. This was full-on see-through. Red lace bra, hard nipples—thanks,

air-conditioning—the whole shebang.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my face flaming the same color as my

bra. “Was it like this the entire time?”

“Yes.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“I did tell you. Just now.”

Sometimes, I wanted to strangle him. I really did. And I wasn’t even a

violent person. I was the same girl who didn’t eat gingerbread man cookies

for years after watching Shrek because I felt like I was eating Gingy’s

family members or, worse, Gingy himself, but something about Alex

provoked my dark side.

I exhaled a sharp breath and dropped my arms by instinct, forgetting

about my see-through shirt until Alex’s gaze flicked down to my chest

again.

The flaming cheeks returned, but I was sick of sitting here arguing with

him. Crumble & Bake closed in ten minutes, and the clock was ticking.

Maybe it was the man, the weather, or the hour and a half I’d spent

stuck under a bus shelter, but my frustration spilled out before I could stop

it. “Instead of being an asshole and staring at my breasts, can you lend me

your jacket? Because I really want to get this cake and send my brother,

your best friend, off in style before he leaves the country.”

My words hung in the air while I clapped a hand over my mouth,

horrified. Did I just utter the word “breasts” to Alex Volkov and accuse him

of ogling me? And call him an asshole?

Dear God, if you smite me with lightning right now, I won’t be mad.

Promise.

Alex’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. It ranked in the top five

most emotional responses I’d pulled out of him in eight years, so that was

something.

“Trust me, I was not staring at your breasts,” he said, his voice frigid

enough to transform the lingering drops of moisture on my skin into icicles.

“You’re not my type, even if you weren’t Josh’s sister.”

Ouch. I wasn’t interested in Alex either, but no girl enjoys being

dismissed so easily by a member of the opposite sex.

“Whatever. There’s no need to be a jerk about it,” I muttered. “Look,

C&B closes in two minutes. Just let me borrow your jacket, and we can get

out of here.”

I’d pre-paid online, so all I needed was to grab the cake.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll get it. You’re not leaving the car

dressed like that, even wearing my jacket.”

Alex yanked an umbrella out from beneath his seat and exited the car in

one fluid motion. He moved like a panther, all coiled grace and laser

intensity. If he wanted, he could make a killing as a runway model, though I

doubted he’d ever do anything so “gauche.”

He returned less than five minutes later with Crumble & Bake’s

signature pink-and-mint-green cake box tucked beneath one arm. He

dumped it in my lap, snapped his umbrella closed, and reversed out of the

parking spot without so much as blinking.

“Do you ever smile?” I asked, peeking inside the box to make sure they

hadn’t messed up the order. Nope. One Death by Chocolate, coming right

up. “It might help with your condition.”

“What condition?” Alex sounded bored.

“Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was

one more insult?

I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he

responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.”

My hands froze while my jaw unhinged. “D-did you make a joke?”

“Explain why you were out there in the first place.” Alex evaded my

question and changed subjects so quick I had whiplash.

He made a joke. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my

own eyes. “I had a photoshoot with clients. There’s a nice lake in—”

“Spare me the details. I don’t care.”

A low growl slipped from my throat. “Why are you here? Didn’t figure

you for the chauffeur type.”

“I was in the area, and you’re Josh’s little sister. If you died, he’d be a

bore to hang out with.” Alex pulled up in front of my house. Next door,

AKA at Josh’s house, the lights blazed, and I could see people dancing and

laughing through the windows.

“Josh has the worst taste in friends,” I bit out. “I don’t know what he

sees in you. I hope that stick in your ass punctures a vital organ.” Then,

because I’d been raised with manners, I added, “Thank you for the ride.”

I huffed out of the car. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I smelled

damp earth and the hydrangeas clustered in a pot by the front door. I’d

shower, change, then catch the last half of Josh’s party. Hopefully, he

wouldn’t give me shit for getting stranded or being late because I wasn’t in

the mood.

I never stay angry for long, but right then, my blood simmered and I

wanted to punch Alex Volkov in the face.

He was so cold and arrogant and…and…him. It was infuriating.

At least I didn’t have to deal with him often. Josh usually hung out with

him in the city, and Alex didn’t visit Thayer even though he was an

alumnus.

Thank God. If I had to see Alex more than a few times a year, I’d go

crazy.

                               #TO BE CONTINUE#

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