Don’t you normally come in the mor—”
He moved past me, removed his hoodie and shot me a smile over his shoulder. He had
close-cropped hair, a chiseled face with dark blue eyes and forearms covered in tattoos.
In my mind I saw a freeze-frame of every high school bad boy who’d made my heart ache.
“I’ll just put these in the kitchen. Meet you there?” he said, holding up his clipboard.
I had a feeling I was going to receive a lot more than two-dozen beignets and a tray
of Key lime tarts. Seconds after he punched open the doors to the darkened kitchen,
I heard a crash that made me glad Will wasn’t upstairs. And the cacophony didn’t happen
just once. It was in stages. First a crash, then a series of bangs, then another metallic
nightmare.
“Oh my God!” I yelled, inching my way to the kitchen door, behind which I could hear
groaning. “Are you okay?”
I shoved the door open and felt a body, his body, move a little. I felt along the
inside wall and hit the fluorescent overheads, and there he was lying on the floor,
clutching his ribs. Pastries of various pastel hues were smeared across the floor,
leading to the walk-in fridge.
“I seriously screwed this up,” he grunted.
I would have laughed, but my heart hadn’t calmed down enough.
“Are you okay?” I asked again, gingerly approaching him like he was a dog that had
been hit by a car and might run away if I moved too fast.
“I think so, yeah. Wow, sorry about the mess.”
“Are you one of the guys from … you know?”
“Yeah. I’m supposed to ‘take you by surprise.’ Ta-da! Ow,” he said, grabbing his elbow
and collapsing back on the floor, a box of pecan pie his accidental pillow.
“Well, you did take me by surprise, in a way,” I said, laughing at the mess he’d made.
From the looks of it, his dolly had careened into Dell’s steel-topped kitchen island,
sending all the pots and pans suspended over it crashing to the floor.
“Want some help?” I asked, extending my hand. What a face. If a bad boy could also
be angelic, he would look like this. He was twenty-eight, maybe thirty, tops. He had
a slight Cajun accent, too, local and very sexy. He unzipped his hoodie, shrugged
it off and whipped it across the floor to get a better look at his injured elbow.
He was oblivious of the fact that he was revealing a boxer’s torso under his white
tank top, with intricate tattoos covering his arms and shoulders.
“That’s going to be a really nice bruise tomorrow morning,” he said, standing next
to me.
He wasn’t tall, but his sexy brutishness gave him incredible presence. After he shook
off the last vestiges of pain, he stretched backwards, taking me in.
“Wow. You’re really pretty,” he said.
“I … think we have a first-aid kit or something around here.”
As I walked past him towards the office, he grabbed me by the elbow and gently tugged
me close to him.
“So? Will you?”
“Will I what?” I asked. Hazel. The eyes were definitely hazel.
“Will you do this Step with me?”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to say it.”
“Damn,” he said, racking his brain.
He was so cute, but not too swift, this one, which I suppose didn’t matter.
“You’re supposed to ask, ‘Will you
accept
the Step?’ ”
“Right. Will you accept the Step?”
“Here? Now? With you?”
“Yeah. Here. Now. With me,” he said, cocking his head, giving me a crooked smile.
Despite his rough-hewn exterior, and a hairline scar on his upper lip, he had the
whitest teeth I’d ever seen. “Are you going to make me beg?” he added. “Okay, then.
Pretty please?”
I was enjoying this. A lot. And decided to play it out a little longer. “What are
you going to do to me?”
“I know this one,” he said. “I’m going to do everything you want, nothing you don’t.”
“Good answer.”
“See? I don’t totally suck.” So sweet and so sexy. “So? Will you accept the
He moved past me, removed his hoodie and shot me a smile over his shoulder. He had
close-cropped hair, a chiseled face with dark blue eyes and forearms covered in tattoos.
In my mind I saw a freeze-frame of every high school bad boy who’d made my heart ache.
“I’ll just put these in the kitchen. Meet you there?” he said, holding up his clipboard.
I had a feeling I was going to receive a lot more than two-dozen beignets and a tray
of Key lime tarts. Seconds after he punched open the doors to the darkened kitchen,
I heard a crash that made me glad Will wasn’t upstairs. And the cacophony didn’t happen
just once. It was in stages. First a crash, then a series of bangs, then another metallic
nightmare.
“Oh my God!” I yelled, inching my way to the kitchen door, behind which I could hear
groaning. “Are you okay?”
I shoved the door open and felt a body, his body, move a little. I felt along the
inside wall and hit the fluorescent overheads, and there he was lying on the floor,
clutching his ribs. Pastries of various pastel hues were smeared across the floor,
leading to the walk-in fridge.
“I seriously screwed this up,” he grunted.
I would have laughed, but my heart hadn’t calmed down enough.
“Are you okay?” I asked again, gingerly approaching him like he was a dog that had
been hit by a car and might run away if I moved too fast.
“I think so, yeah. Wow, sorry about the mess.”
“Are you one of the guys from … you know?”
“Yeah. I’m supposed to ‘take you by surprise.’ Ta-da! Ow,” he said, grabbing his elbow
and collapsing back on the floor, a box of pecan pie his accidental pillow.
“Well, you did take me by surprise, in a way,” I said, laughing at the mess he’d made.
From the looks of it, his dolly had careened into Dell’s steel-topped kitchen island,
sending all the pots and pans suspended over it crashing to the floor.
“Want some help?” I asked, extending my hand. What a face. If a bad boy could also
be angelic, he would look like this. He was twenty-eight, maybe thirty, tops. He had
a slight Cajun accent, too, local and very sexy. He unzipped his hoodie, shrugged
it off and whipped it across the floor to get a better look at his injured elbow.
He was oblivious of the fact that he was revealing a boxer’s torso under his white
tank top, with intricate tattoos covering his arms and shoulders.
“That’s going to be a really nice bruise tomorrow morning,” he said, standing next
to me.
He wasn’t tall, but his sexy brutishness gave him incredible presence. After he shook
off the last vestiges of pain, he stretched backwards, taking me in.
“Wow. You’re really pretty,” he said.
“I … think we have a first-aid kit or something around here.”
As I walked past him towards the office, he grabbed me by the elbow and gently tugged
me close to him.
“So? Will you?”
“Will I what?” I asked. Hazel. The eyes were definitely hazel.
“Will you do this Step with me?”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to say it.”
“Damn,” he said, racking his brain.
He was so cute, but not too swift, this one, which I suppose didn’t matter.
“You’re supposed to ask, ‘Will you
accept
the Step?’ ”
“Right. Will you accept the Step?”
“Here? Now? With you?”
“Yeah. Here. Now. With me,” he said, cocking his head, giving me a crooked smile.
Despite his rough-hewn exterior, and a hairline scar on his upper lip, he had the
whitest teeth I’d ever seen. “Are you going to make me beg?” he added. “Okay, then.
Pretty please?”
I was enjoying this. A lot. And decided to play it out a little longer. “What are
you going to do to me?”
“I know this one,” he said. “I’m going to do everything you want, nothing you don’t.”
“Good answer.”
“See? I don’t totally suck.” So sweet and so sexy. “So? Will you accept the
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