Merry Christmas Eve!! 🎅🎄🎁
Since I'll be celebrating with my family all day tomorrow, I thought I would post this week's #teasertuesday a bit early :) This is the last full chapter reveal before Stolen Goods goes on sale on January 7th! If you haven't been following along with the December posts, you can click this link to start at the beginning with Chapter One!
Today I'm posting the fourth chapter, which is told through Addy's POV! When a mysterious and handsome stranger shows up at her bakery asking for directions, she's more than happy to oblige. But when her dream meet cute quickly becomes a meet ugly... well... you'll see ;)
Hope you enjoy!
P.S. If you're counting down the days until January 7th (like me!), don't forget to pre-order your copy :) The ebook is available on Amazon!
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- 4 -
Addison
Addison
Holy hotness. Addy had lost the ability to think the
second she saw that man standing in the doorway. At first, she thought he was a
mirage. A figment of her imagination. She had, at that very second, been
daydreaming about the perfect meet-cute with a construction worker building a
house in the hot summer sun—shirtless of course, sweat dripping slowly down the
contours of his muscles as she happened to saunter by. Their eyes met across
the distance, attraction an instant bolt of lightning down her spine. Totally
taken off guard, she tripped on a discarded wooden board hidden in the grass.
He, in a show of inhuman, nigh-heroic strength, managed to race across the
distance to catch her in his more-than-capable arms—
And then tap, tap, tap.
Addy had been certain it was
her mother, coming home from a night out to dinner, asking what in the world
she was doing still working at that hour.
Instead, it was an Adonis.
Naturally, she couldn’t
believe her eyes, even as she crossed the room, undid the lock, and opened the
door. Words came out of her mouth. There were definitely words, that much she
knew, but what she said? A complete mystery. Her thoughts were too wrapped up
in trying to decipher if he was a hallucination, if she’d finally lost her
mind, if she was talking to nothing but open air…
But then he spoke.
Real words.
With a deep, sensual voice
her brain couldn’t possibly have imagined.
“Sorry to intrude.”
A flurry instantly swarmed to
life in her stomach. Heat gathered beneath her skin. Which meant he was real—he
had to be. Intrude away.
His lips twitched, making
those dimples in his cheeks dig deeper.
Shoot! Addy
shook her head. I think I said that out
loud. She coughed, clearing her throat. “I mean, no bother. Can I help you
with something?”
“My car broke down,” he
explained, an apology laced through his tone. Addy tried to focus on his
story—something about a wheel, and the highway, and walking. But in the back of
her mind all she kept wondering was, Is
he married? He’s got to be married. Girlfriend at least. He’s too hot to be
single. Those brooding gray eyes. That debonair smile. Her gaze trailed
down, over the flat stomach, pausing on the little flash of hard skin beneath
the lifted end of his T-shirt, moving to his snug jeans. Those…feet.
“So, can you help me?” he
finished, then stared at her. Expectant.
“Of course!” Addy chirped,
jerking into motion, the gut need to help someone in trouble an innate
reaction, something she did without a second thought. But—what exactly did he
need help with? And what exactly had he asked her to do? Buying time, Addy
opened the door a little wider and let him step inside behind her.
A phone. I think he said something about a phone.
“There’s a landline in the
office. Just follow me,” she murmured, heart thumping in her chest as she
fought to regain her composure. Southern women kept it together. Southern women
were in control. Southern women were not affected by the sight of a man, no
matter how devilishly handsome he was—at least not noticeably.
“I’d be happy to use your
cell phone,” he murmured smoothly, voice like melted chocolate, sweet and
simmering with sin. Her toes curled in her ballet flats. “To save you the
trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Addy
smiled, all those life lessons her mother and grandmother drilled into her
brain bubbling to the forefront. Be
gracious. Be a lady. Be charitable. She led him past the counter, into the
kitchen, and tried to carry on polite conversation. “So, where were you headed?
Just passing through? We don’t get very many out-of-towners.”
He paused. “Doing a bit of
traveling.”
Traveling?
Addy’s brows twitched. Who would be traveling near here? “Oh, where are you
going?”
“The, uh, beach.”
Hmm… We’re pretty far from the beach.
And we’re pretty far from the major highways.
We’re pretty far from everything, really.
A nervous burn coiled in her
gut.
“Hey, where did you say your
car broke down?” she asked, her voice a twinge higher than normal. Because,
yes, he was gorgeous, but he was still a strange man. They were alone. It was
nighttime. And…why exactly had she let him inside? Addy’s gaze shifted right,
toward the large table in the middle of the kitchen—her rolling pin could do
some damage with the right amount of force—and then moved left, toward the
drawer where they kept all the serving knives. She turned her head just so,
trying to subtly sneak a peek over her shoulder and—
Shoot!
She jerked her head forward.
He’d been looking right at
her.
Duh, he was looking right at me. He’s following me to
the phone. He has no idea where to go. Don’t be silly. But why did his face seem so familiar now that she’d
had a chance to clear her mind? Something about those stormy eyes, that ruffled
mocha hair, that smile…
“Are you painting something?”
he asked, deep voice echoing across the small confines of the kitchen, bouncing
off stainless steel.
Addy jumped.
And then shook her head. Relax. Everything is fine. He’s just being
polite.
“Oh, yeah…” She turned her
attention back toward the flattened fondant in the middle of the counter, the
discarded paintbrushes, the haphazard strokes. “I’m not much of an artist. I
was just trying something for this wedding cake. But I’m much better with
buttercream than a brush.”
He stopped by the edge of the
table and leaned over her work. “What were you going for? I’m a bit of an
artist myself. Maybe I could help. A favor for a favor, that sort of thing.”
“Really?” she asked, curious.
Some of her discomfort melted away at the kindness in his tone. “I’m not sure.
The rest of the cake is going to be covered with roses and flowers in all
different shades of pink, so something to complement that, I guess.”
“Mind if I…?” He gestured
toward the fondant.
Addy shrugged. “Go ahead.”
He eased the brush between
his fingers with an authority that couldn’t be faked, leaning over the table as
he kept his hand hovered over the bowls of dye. A slight purse rose to his lips
as he narrowed his eyes, studying each pigment. He leaned closer, causing his
brown hair to spill over his forehead in untamed disarray. The fingers of his
right hand twitched with palpable creative energy as the rest of him stilled.
Then he burst into action, dipping the brush into a dye, sweeping graceful
strokes across the fondant, switching to a different brush, a different color,
layering the makeshift watercolors into an explosion of sunset hues. Addy
couldn’t look away, drawn in with a magnetic pull she couldn’t fight, following
the deft flicks of the brush, marveling at his control, his skill, at the sheer
beauty of what he was creating. Had he seen inside her mind? Somehow this
stranger understood the exact vision of what she’d been trying, unsuccessfully,
to bring to life. Addy could already see the cake coming together. The three
bottom tiers of cascading pastel flowers would be perfectly complemented by
this burst of color at the top, a firework to complete the celebration. A
little piping around the edges and some edible gold swishes would finish the
effect perfectly.
The stranger paused, leaning
back, surveying his work.
Addy stared at him in awe.
Who are you?
Where did you come from?
But before either of those
questions rose to her lips, he leaned back over the table, reached for the food
coloring, and deepened some of the tones before retrieving another brush. This
time, as he worked, Addy stared at him, the cut lines of his jaw, the tan sheen
of his skin, the contours of strong muscles visible just below the edge of his
sleeve.
Handsome.
Polite.
An artist.
And not afraid to ask a woman
for help.
Did you walk straight out of my dreams and into my
bakery?
Seriously—he was a bona fide
Prince Charming.
Here.
In her kitchen.
Impossibly within reach.
Addy could already see it—her
imagination had a way of zooming into overdrive at the first hint of a romantic
situation. She would thank him profusely for the help with the cake. He would
say it was nothing, but maybe, he could take her out for dinner sometime? Or
no—even better. They’d part ways, and then, somehow, he’d be a guest at the
wedding and recognize his handiwork and come find her in the kitchen,
professing he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. In five years, Addy
would laugh in her white gown as he jokingly told the entire ballroom how for a
brief moment when they first met, she thought he was an ax murderer, until she
saw him paint. Everyone would laugh. Then they’d kiss, and live happily ever
after.
“How’s that?”
Addy sighed. “Perfect.”
And then she blinked, realizing
he was actually asking about the cake and not commenting on the Harlequin
romance playing out in her mind. She dropped her eyes to the fondant, breath
hitching as she took in his creation, an abstract vision of a rose garden in
bloom.
“Perfect,” she repeated.
Because it was. “I can’t believe you— I mean, this is really— I’m speechless.”
“It’s nothing.” He waved her
off with a lopsided grin. “I’m happy to help.”
“Well, you did, you really
did,” Addy continued gushing, eyes still on the makeshift canvas before her,
unable to quite believe this was real life. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“My pleasure,” he commented
softly. “Would you mind if I borrowed your cell phone now? I just need to call
Triple A. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Oh, sure.”
Without a second thought,
Addy reached into her pocket and pulled her cell phone free, then paused for a
moment to unlock the screen before handing it over. While he stepped to the
side to make his call, Addy stared at the fondant and let the world drift away
as the rest of the cake came bursting to life in her mind’s eye.
Do I pipe the edge in a teardrop pattern?
Or a pearl border?
Or maybe shells?
What if I leave the edge blank and decorate the base
of the monogram instead? Simple white piping? That would look a little cleaner,
a little more modern. Actually, I think that’s perfect. And I’ll add a few
green leaves to make the colors pop.
Addy looked up from the
fondant and turned toward the fridge, fingers itching to test various
arrangements of buttercream flowers. It was only then that she realized she was
alone.
She spun.
Once.
Twice.
Addy pivoted on her heels and
scanned the empty kitchen.
The man was gone.
Wait. Where did you…?
“Hello?” she called aloud.
There was no response.
Her brows knotted—had he been a ghost?
She patted her pockets, her
apron, searching for her cell phone. But no—it was gone. He’d taken it, which
meant he was a tangible human being. He’d just, for the moment, disappeared.
Addy bit her lip with
confusion.
Behind her, the front door to
the bakery whooshed open.
She breathed a sigh of
relief. Of course, you dolt. He went
outside to make the call in private. You still have time to thank him. And ask
for his name. And do the best eyelash batting you’ve ever done in your life to
convince him he can’t live without you.
Addy spun, prepared with a
broad smile.
Then she froze for a second
time that night.
Because it wasn’t the
handsome stranger.
It was two men—with guns.
Her heart leapt into her
throat, and a scream barreled through her lips before she thought to stifle it.
“Ahhhhh!”
***
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