"Watch the tiers!" I wince when it leans dangerously close to one side.
"Oh, crap!" Mara throws her body weight to the other side in an attempt to save my three-tier coral reef cake from falling on the ground. Except she clearly overestimates her strength because she veers a little too to the left and then she's running sideways.
And she doesn't stop.
I squawk and chase after her, wobbling on my heels that I had no business wearing when I have the coordination skills of an infant. My ankles twist, eliciting a steady chant of ow ow ow's as I run after her with my feet pointing toward each other. It's so painful I'm considering getting on my knuckles and just hobbling after her like Tarzan. He made it look so easy, with those strong calves and solid chest and dreamy abs...
I'm getting carried away. Not that I blame myself. Watching him in your thirties is like porn. He can fight a cheetah with his bare hands for fuck's sake. Why isn't he appreciated more?
Mara bumps into one of the guards standing outside the Swedish American Hall, one of the fanciest and most lavish venues in San Francisco. He catches her by her upper arms and straightens her up effortlessly. Dude is huge. I almost forget about my Tarzan fantasy when I get a good look at his humongous built encased is a suit that molds to his mountain physique. Almost.
"Thanks," Mara breathes with a sigh of relief and looks over her shoulder. Then her jaw drops. "Holy shit."
It's super adorable that Gigantor goes red in the face at that remark, holding his hands in front of him and clearing his throat. "Name and event listing, please?"
"Sierra Lancaster, here for the SF Player Management fundraiser gala."
I take the tier from Mara who still hasn't bothered picking her tongue off the floor. The rest of the cakes have been taken inside so I'm hoping I can manage this one without dropping it. Jesus, it's heavy. No wonder little Mara nearly folded in half trying to carry it. She's, like, half my size.
An image of a hamster trying to eat a banana comes to mind when I look between her and the bodyguard. I suppress a snort at the visual and take my mind out of the gutter. Bad Sierra.
"You're in Freja Hall." The guard holds a stamping machine up but I can't exactly let go of the tier and offer my hand.
"Uh, you can stamp it on my forehead?"
"No, Miss. I cannot."
"Didn't know these things had rules. Fine, then. My shoulder?"
He looks like he has no idea what to do. I don't think he's ever been put in a position like this. That's probably why he reluctantly stamps my upper arm, right where my shoulder is. I pull my head in to look at it, feeling the way my second chin pops out with that maneuver.
"Cool. Always wanted a tat."
"It's temporary, Miss."
"Well, duh. I'm clearly joking. Mara, teach the nice man to loosen up."
"Huh?" Mara blinks when I address her, finally snapping out of it. "Me?"
Oh, brother. These two will have to figure it out because my arms are about to fall off my body and the six hours it took to make this cake will be for nothing.
Freja hall is just a ways from the entrance but between these death heels and the tier being higher than my head, I instantly regret my decision to take it to the hall myself. I can't even see where I'm going! I try not to panic but I can feel myself sweating with the effort of holding the cake. This isn't good. Not good at all.
"Need some help?" I hear a vaguely familiar voice.
Suddenly the tier is taken from my hands and I shake my arms out in relief. I was seconds away from dropping the damn thing. I look up from my pulsing palms, immediately smiling at Sawyer who winks at me.
"Lookin' sweet, Sierra's Sweets," He quips.
I shake my head as I follow him toward the hall. "That was awful but you look pretty handsome yourself, so I'm willing to ignore that."
He laughs and easily sets the cake down on the dessert table where the rest of my desserts are. I look at the display with pride. Hours and hours of grueling work and the result is everything I hoped it would be. My feet ache from running around the kitchen, and I'm experiencing back pain that could rival my father's, but I don't feel any of it. I'm over the moon that I made something as incredible as this happen.
"This looks amazing." Sawyer's comment warms me all over. He glances at me flirtatiously. "And so do you. Seriously."
I glance down at myself to see what he sees. I wore a deep emerald green satin dress, sleeveless with a v neckline. It dips low enough to show hints of the girls, but not enough to take away class. The dress streams all the way down to the floor and has a slit running up along my right leg, ending high enough on my thigh that I had to wear a thong so I wouldn't flash my usual granny panties. It feels like someone's trying to floss my ass crack but I kind of had no choice.
I look up again and smile somewhat shyly at his appreciative gaze, fiddling with the ends of my blonde hair that I curled into loose beach waves. Sometimes it still takes me by surprise when a man likes what he sees when he looks at me, but for the most part I'm aware of what I put out there. I know I'm considered a catch by most standards. I worked hard to get to this point and I'm proud of it. I can feel my smile become more confident.
"Thank you." I smooth down my dress and then clasp my hands behind my back. "So, what is it you do at the agency?"
"I'm part of financial management. Numbers are kind of my thing."
"Really?" I can feel the way my brows push up. Sawyer laughs, clearly not offended at my reaction.
"I'm more than just a pretty face, sweetheart. Nerds can be hot too."
He sure is confident about himself but I find that I appreciate that quality, especially as someone who knows how hard that can be. I mean, if I looked like him I'd definitely rock an ego. Light brown hair, lighter green eyes, and a face structure people would pay for make him movie-star pretty. It's almost unfair how gorgeous he is. Plus he stands tall, definitely around six feet, and has a body that's perfectly trim with not too much muscle but enough to make you feel dainty in comparison. Yummy.
"Yo, Sawyer!"
We both turn at the sound of his name being called. A big, burly man swaggers over to us. He's ridiculously good-looking and based on his physique, is one of the athletes. Honestly, every man in here is hot and muscular. I'm swimming in a pool of testosterone and let me tell you, I'd drown myself in a heartbeat if it meant being saved by one of these hunks.
"What's up, D?" Sawyer and the man do that hand-clasp, shoulder-bump thing that guys do when they want to look tough. "Thought you weren't going to make it."
"I wasn't, but then Rey told me this place had its own theater for all the kids. I just popped Thea in. I think they're watching that snowman movie."
"If you're talking about Frozen, I'm judging you for not knowing Olaf's name. He's funny as fuck."
"Okay, princess," The man snorts and then his eyes land on me. "Hey. Girlfriend of this idiot?"
I shake my head at the same time Sawyer throws an arm around me and says, "Yup."
I nudge him away with a laugh and shake the man's outstretched hand. "He's lying. I don't date men that are prettier than me. I'm Sierra, by the way."
"Doug," He flashes a grin. "Respectfully, I'd say you're more than pretty."
"Thank you." I feel my cheeks warm. The man looks like he was spawned by Zeus and he thinks I'm pretty?! God, this day rocks.
"Stop hitting on my girl." Sawyer kicks a leg out. "Shoo. Off with your head."
Doug snorts. "I have a wife, you dumb fuck. I'm just reminding the girl she's got nothing to be shy about. I got to go anyway. Nice meeting you, Sierra."
"You too." I wave as he heads for a group of men that immediately cheer when they see him. I look up at Sawyer. "He was so nice."
"Yeah. Great guy. He's a footballer player so that's rare. They tend to be the most conceited athletes."
"Don't I know it," I snort, thinking of one particular and exceptionally conceited ex football player.
Sawyer grins like he's reading my mind. "Heard he acted like a royal ass again."
So he was reading my mind. "Where'd you hear that?"
"Office gossip. As soon as you called him Satan and stormed out, everyone had heard by the next day."
I wince. I didn't mean for that to happen at all.
"Well...he was being rude to the whole team."
"Heard that too. It's rare for him to get so worked up, though. He's a pretty great boss. He's just been stressed because he's been trying to sign on an up and coming hockey player and he almost lost two of his clients in the same week. I think his events team goofing on was the last straw for him."
Okay. Now I feel even worse.
"But...but...everyone always looks so afraid of him."
Sawyer laughs. "Okay, that part is true. I'm probably the only person at the agency that isn't scared of the little shit. It's more like everyone finds him intimidating because of how successful he is and at such a young age. Plus, you know how workaholics are. You respect 'em, fear 'em, and know they'll do great things."
"Don't do this to me," I groan. "Don't make me feel bad. He was an asshole to me, plain and simple. He's just too full of it to admit it."
"Also true." Sawyer shakes his head. "I've never seen anyone give his shit back to him like you do. Respect, girl."
"Thanks," I mutter. I may have appeared somewhat bad-ass on the couple of occasions Sawyer witnessed but let's be honest—I'm a chicken shit when it comes to Holden. Case in point? The way I've avoided him the past two weeks. I'm pretty sure our fight in my apartment was the only conversation we've had all month so I've just stopped trying to believe we're capable of being civil. Clearly we're not and while I appreciate the hell out of this amazing opportunity he gave me, I don't plan on taking one from him ever again. Nope, nope.
Sawyer's name is called again and when I insist I'll hang by my dessert table, he all but drags me with him and forces me to socialize. I'm tons better at it than what I used to be but I still experience that initial awkwardness. The one where you don't know where to put your hands, or you keep accidentally making eye contact with the same person every couple of seconds, or you know exactly how to respond to a question in your head but it comes out like Parseltongue once you speak. I'm better off summoning a snake than a decent conversation.
But the night goes by and then I slip into the routine of talking to strangers, where for a moment it becomes familiar to just walk up to someone and ask them if their first dog really ran away or if it got run over instead.
"Run over." The hockey player I'm talking to confirms. "What's worse is I was in the backseat when my dad did it. I think I was like, what, five? He said he was teaching Snoop to run just like he taught me how to ride my tricycle; by giving his classic nudge. I thought he was a hero for it."
I snort into my glass of wine and take it out of my mouth before I choke on it from laughing. "Holy shit. I don't know what to focus on first—the name or that you literally witnessed his death."
"Let me explain in that order. Yes, we named him after Snoop Dog. No, I didn't technically witness it. I just...felt it. It was like going over a speed bump."
"That is so awful. Didn't you have questions when he never came back?"
"Dad said he taught him how to run so well that the little guy ran out of the country. I so believed it."
"This is the best my dog ran away story I've ever heard."
"Isn't it? Snoop died a hero."
"To Snoop." I raise my glass and he follows suit with a laugh, clinking his glass against mine.
The sound of microphone feedback makes everyone wince and simultaneously look to the stage. Mara is there, wrangling with the wire and trying to get herself out of it. I have no idea how she got it wrapped around her leg.
"...just like the time I got handcuffed to a bed and lost the key." The end of her sentence booms through the hall on maximum volume. Mara freezes, realizing she didn't actually mutter that under her breath, and winces at the way everyone is gaping at her.
"Oh, Jesus," I mumble, cheeks practically flaming from the second-hand embarrassment.
"Hell yeah!" I'm pretty sure that was Sawyer. "You get your freak on!"
"Dude!" Mara hisses back then quickly clears her throat, smoothing her dress down. "Right. Uhm, hi everyone. Thank you for a wonderful evening so far. I'm happy to announce your donations on behalf of SF Player Management successfully reached our final goal for the fundraiser. Congratulations!"
Scattered applause rings out. I'm pretty sure half the room still feels the awkwardness from Mara's statement and the other half is imagining partaking in it. It is a room full of gorgeous athletes and Mara is exceptionally stunning so I don't doubt wheels are turning.
"The buffet is now open so please feel free to grab a plate and dig in. Oh! And we have a customized dessert table today on behalf of Sierra Lancaster, tonight's talented baker and owner of Sierra's Sweets! Can we get a spotlight on the chick?"
"What?" I squeak and wave my hands in a huge X at Mara. She so, totally ignores me. I'm still flailing when a bright white light hits my face and I wince, straightening up and trying not to look like an idiot. A bigger idiot, anyway. I'm pretty sure the whole room saw me looking like I was clearing an airplane for landing. I laugh awkwardly and wave.
"That's you!" The hockey player, whose name I really should have got, grins at me. Then he points. "That's her! It's her!"
"No shit, buddy," I grit out incredulously. People are definitely laughing but it seems to be in genuine amusement as they clap for me.
Thankfully, men are savages that think with their stomachs so the moment is over almost immediately and they all stomp over to the buffet. I thank the hockey player—Jacob! His name is Jacob!—for keeping me company and head over to my table.
It's flanked within seconds.
My mouth is agape as I watch these men bulldoze over each other in their haste to grab dessert. It's a blur of big and brutish men practically climbing on top of each other to get their hands on some goods. I half expect them to start thumping their chests and chanting a chorus of ME HUNGRY. When it's obvious this is all going to go downhill very fast, I blow a whistle with my fingers in my mouth and snap at them to get in a line or I'll take the cakes home. In seconds they're in single file.
Adorable. Like a box of puppies.
So I spend the next hour, freaking hour, cutting into cakes and serving them to almost everyone in this room. Some a second time. Some a third. I'm pretty sure I saw one dude sneakily grab a tier with only a quarter of a cake left and run off with it. He literally ran off with my cake like a ninja. A really bad, really obvious ninja. Okay then.
And then I'm left with three empty tiers and only a couple of cupcakes that I box away to take home. I'm a grinning fool when I close the cardboard and look over my empty table. That's right. Empty. I'm so used to ending my shifts at Sierra's Sweets with a display full of untouched desserts that I can't even fathom how everything I made today was eaten. The best part? Everyone liked it. No, loved it. I have to physically stop myself from squealing.
"All sold out?"
"Yeah, I'm so sor—" I look up after putting the box to the side and my breath immediately catches. It's Holden. And he looks...unbelievable.
I don't mean for it to happen but I can't help the way my eyes are glued to him, drinking him in. I'm used to seeing Holden in suits and today is no different but he still looks better than I've ever seen him. A black suit molds to his body, tailored to perfection, so perfect that his body looks like it might pop through the cloth at any moment. His hair is neatly made instead of left in its casual state, gelled so that it's swept to one side but falling over his forehead skillfully. It takes way too much effort to stop myself from gawking and when I meet his gaze, it's as intense and sharp as ever. He's looking at me like...like I look at chocolate chip cookies right before I gobble them up. What the cheese is happening right now?
"We need to talk," He demands, his voice smooth and unwavering.
Well, fuck me.
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A/N
Wow. Why am I not at this party with hunky men that are all obsessed with me? But we only stan Holden and he's here to fuck shit up. You ready?
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Happy Reading :)