Page 74 of Because of Blake
“I’ve never had either of those.”
I gape at him. “You’re kidding? Well, you’re in for a treat. I’ve been told my pies put all others to shame.”
“I’ll vouch for that. Your pie is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
My cheeks go full candied apple red. “Shh. Blake. There are children present.”
“Not anywhere I can see.” The words come out husky, full of lust, and if my kids weren’t in the house, my panties would be on the floor.
I huff, steeling myself. “Either way, we’ve got pies to make. Keep it in your pants.”
Making the pies with Blake is one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. He listens intently to my instructions, only messing up when I tell him a teaspoon of vanilla and he uses a tablespoon. Oh well, a little extra vanilla never hurt. We laugh and joke, teasing each other and making a gigantic mess.
I put the pies in the fridge while we wait for the turkey to finish, and I turn to Blake. “We’ve got quite the mess to clean up.” Wiping my hands on a towel, I eye the flour and sugar and baking powder dusting my countertops. “Where do we start?”
“I know the perfect place.” Blake takes two strides, closing the gap between us and pinning me to the cabinet. One of his hands wraps around the back of my head, losing itself in my messy bun, and the other snakes around my waist as his mouth crashes onto mine.
At first, I want to push away, scared my children will walk in on us, but then, I’m consumed by the kiss. It’s all I want, and I don’t give a damn who sees. My hands grip Blake’s shoulders, pulling him to me, and I hook one of my ankles around his. Our hips press together, his hard length against my thigh. His hand on my waist moves lower to cup my ass, and I feel myself losing my composure. If he so much as grips my inner thigh, I might come.
“Get a room, you two.” Sydney’s voice breaks the moment, and I shove Blake away. We separate quickly, Blake turning to face the sink and me slouching against the counter.
I look from Blake to Sydney, my eyes wide and my heart racing. Breathlessly, I say, “You’re up early.”
She rolls her eyes. “Mom, it’s like one o’clock. Geez, how long were you guys making out?” She crosses the kitchen to the fridge and grabs a soda. She eyes Blake up and down. “You okay, Blake?”
He doesn’t speak, only nods. Before he lets go of the counter, I notice his white knuckles, and I have to swallow. I had no idea what kind of tension he was holding in.
Turning around, he leans against the sink counter. “Anxious to try the pies. I hear your mom makes them better than anyone.”
Sydney nods. “She’s the best.”
Blake slides down the counter to bump hips with me. “Well, then maybe I should call her ‘Magpie.’”
My heart stops with my breath as my stomach drops into my feet. I watch Sydney’s eyes grow wide as they flick from Blake to me. The air in the room changes, ices over, and we all freeze. Sydney knows what’s happening, but Blake doesn’t.
I watch the look on his face go from playfulness to confusion to concern within seconds. “Maggie, did I say something wrong?”
Tears well in my eyes, so I escape up the stairs to my room and slam the door. How dare he call me that. It’s not a name for him to use, it’s Charlie’s, and I won’t allow it to be appropriated.
Give him a break, he didn’t know.I flop onto my bed, the tears streaming down the sides of my face.
There’s a knock at my door, but I don’t look up. “Maggie?” Blake says, opening the door and stepping inside. “Can I come in?”
“You’re already in.”
“Okay, can I come sit with you?”
I nod. He crosses the room and sits beside me, the bed dipping with his weight. “I’m sorry about what I said down there. I had no idea that was Charlie’s nickname for you.”
I sit up, turning to him with furrowed brows.
“Sydney explained.”
I flop back down and sigh. “It started as a joke before we were even dating, before I had ever baked a pie. A mutual friend hosted a Friendsgiving the week before Thanksgiving, and we were both invited. We had met a couple times through this friend, and we were amicable, flirtatious even, but nothing serious, yet. When dessert came, I went for the pecan pie first. As I was eating, I gushed over how good it was and how I wanted to learn to make one. Charlie heard me talking and started calling me ‘Magpie.’” My throat closes up as my tears flow faster. “The nickname stuck and when I finally got my recipes down, Charlie added to it. I became ‘Master Magpie,’ but no one’s called me that in four years.”
“Until me?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I freaked out. Hearing Charlie’s nickname for me out of another man’s mouth was jarring. Not your fault, though.”