Have Your Cake by D.S. Roi Page A

through his gut as he thought about the touch of those careful hands. She set his plate with a thick slice and carried it over to him. He set his mug on the kitchen island and spied the cake. Her creation looked and smelled like a piece of heaven.
    “Eat up.” She smiled and went back to the counter for her own slice.
    The first bite melted warm and sweet on his tongue. The cinnamon sugar topping dissolved a burst of flavored texture against the roof of his mouth. A loud moan passed his throat. “Damn, Cyana, pardon my language. But, this is the best crumble ever.”
    A confident smile spread her lips. “Thank you.”
    “I wish I would have stocked the kitchen before you showed up. Hell, this here makes me want to run out right now to the grocer.”
    She laughed. “We have no car, remember?”
    He smiled. His F-450 was in the far parking lot left of the house, concealed by a five-foot tall natural fence of boxwoods. He could have volunteered to take her to her folks in his truck on day one, but something in his gut had advised against it. He was smart enough to know admitting he had transportation now would throw a dent in their time together and probably land him in the doghouse. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. “Yeah, we don’t have a car, but we do have a boat.”
    Her brow formed a frown. “A boat? Where?”
    “Down at the tank out back.”
    “The tank?”
    He gave a half-smile. “That’s cowboy for lake, little lady.”
    “Oh.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know there was a lake on the property.”
    “Sure. Just off the workshop through the woods. I keep a boat out there for good rest days like today.”
    She peeked out the big kitchen window providing a view of the grounds. No workers. Every Saturday he sent the world away to do whatever he felt like. Everyone was gone. It was just the two of them.
    “It’s cloudy,” she said.
    “Just perfect. The fish will be biting. You like fishin’?”
    “Sure,” she said. “I haven’t been to a lake in a long time.”
    “Well, let’s eat up. We’ll head out when you’re ready.”
     

12
     
    A sher made quick work of the crumble. He ate every bit of the loaf with only one cup of coffee. Satisfied he truly enjoyed it, Cyana went to the showers and dressed in a white zippered hoodie and grey shorts. Her flip-flops stuck out from the duffle bag. She slid them on.
    By the time she made it downstairs, Asher was ready. She met him in the kitchen. He lowered the coffee mug from his face. Damn. The curve of his lips made her want to taste them again. A t-shirt took shape over his muscled neck, shoulders and chest, but the V-neck left the light brown trail of hair exposed at the top. He had the perfect amount of fur for her, thick enough to be visible, but not a dense forest requiring heavy maintenance. The cargo shorts stopped at his knees. Sandals strapped his feet. Even in his casual style, he exuded sexuality. It took sizable strength not to mount him.
    He straightened off the counter, setting the mug down. “You ready?”
     
     
    C yana followed Asher along the stone path towards the shed. He moved in close, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Yesterday was a touch of home when he walked to the house with her tucked into his side. If there was such a place where peace existed, it’d be wherever Cyana was. He kissed her forehead, silently grateful she didn’t move away. With a smile, she wrapped her arms about his waist. She’d accepted his attentions even when she seemed hesitant. He shortened his stride to match her steps, not minding the lengthening of the walk time.
    She let go of him at the edge of the wood. Her sight followed the height of the pines. He took her hand, giving it a light squeeze to command her focus.
    “Lions and tigers and bears,” he said.
    She laughed.
    “Come on, Love, it’s not far.”
    She nodded. He led them through the wood and into a small clearing at the edge of the private lake. He’d found the perfect spot