Page 5 of His to Claim (The Rowdy Johnson Brothers)
MAEVE
My week has gone from bad to worse. My creativity is no longer flowing, and I’m left with nothing but worry. I was able to do my usual recipes, ones I know like the back of my hand. Anything new and exciting? Zilch, nada, absolutely nothing. Maybe I’m experiencing what authors describe as writers’s block. Baker’s block.
“Ugh, I should just start day drinking. Surely, that would help. Or get a pet to keep me company.” Whisked Away has been so quiet, the few teenagers I’ve hired here and there aren’t needed. I’ve sadly had to let them know hours will be limited and even went as far as telling them to please find another job that is able to give them what they deserve. Another chink in my armor, like a sword hitting right in my chest.
Instead of baking to get ahead for tomorrow, I’m taking things off the wall, moving chairs, andreadjusting the tables. Since Whisked Away is currently staying afloat with no extras, I’m doing other things to help until maybe Madison can get the reviews taken down. So far, every time she takes one down, five more appear. She even tried tracking the IP address, but apparently, they are using some kind of sophisticated system that my sister can’t crack. Michelle piped up again and said to use my in with the Johnsons to see if Fletcher Wild could pull some kind of strings. The sister eyes came at me one after the other. There was no beating around the bush with those two.
Michelle and Madison knew about my date with Clayton. But they weren’t aware JW had made an appearance or the way he’d snubbed me. The staredown through the phone had me spilling my guts. Our phone call was well over two hours long, and the only reason we hung up is because Michelle had to do the mom and wife thing. You know, cook dinner, kiss her husband, and help her daughter with homework. I had already taken up enough of Madison’s time, yet she’s still trying to work through the kinks.
Fortunately, I still had a few regulars throughout the day to go along with my usual orders. The tourists who come through town is what I’ve lost. A shitty situation because everyone knows when you’re on vacation, there’s no such thing as a budget. Dropping forty,fifty, or sixty dollars on donuts, croissants, and cake is a drop in the bucket.
I’ve heard a few before talking and laughing about spending eighty dollars on candy only for them to do similar here at Whisked Away. When you do the math, five customers dropping around that amount in a day adds up quickly. Those extra funds allow me to pocket some money into the just-in-case fund, add new appliances when needed, and to work on new recipes.
I really am going to have a panic attack if my storefront has to be shut down. I’d heard the rumors, the comments beneath their breath as they walked by during opening week.She’s too young. How will she be able to survive? I’d never open a bakery here.
Am I young? Yes, I’m twenty-one years old. I also went to my parents with a solid game plan. And I built my clientele up during and after high school. Each of us Oliver girls had money set aside. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today, and now, because of some disgruntled piece of shit, everything could blow up in my face. Those rumors that I once heard will become a reality, and I’ll be back to working solely in a kitchen without a storefront.
“Goddamn stupid son of a bitch motherfucker trucker.” The hammer I'm using to knock the nail into the wall misses the head and smashes my thumb. I pull away rather quickly,shoving my thumb in my mouth and making the chair I’m standing on wobble. Rearranging the front of the store also meant moving artwork from one wall to the other. The black and white prints varied in design. Some of them are pictures of my family baking in the kitchen, a few are landscapes I’ve snapped pictures of on my rare days off, and then there’s my favorite that I’ll always keep in the center of the gallery wall: my dad, the craftsman he is, designing the store name in wood and iron.
“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you, baby girl.” I didn’t even hear the chime on the door when he entered. Maybe the bell is stuck and needs to be replaced. Nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for his voice. Deep, grumbly, and with a hint of annoyance. I look over my shoulder to find its owner and am struck silent yet again. It definitely is Joseph William Johnson, not that anyone uses his full name. He doesn’t even look like a Joseph or Joe. He’s JW through and through. Rough around the edges, grumpy when he hasn’t had his morning cup of coffee, and if he’s in the mood for something sweet and it’s not near him, that’s when JW reverts to a two-year-old, stomping his boot-covered feet and throwing a temper tantrum.
“I didn’t realize I had company.” Seeing as how business has been dead except for a few pick-ups here and there, my normal clothes ofleggings or loose pants were put away. In their place are shorts, and I can practically feel the heat of his hands the closer he gets.
“Heard you were getting rid of my cinnamon rolls.” I don’t bother keeping my eyes on him. I can’t, and I don’t use that word lightly. When it comes to the man behind me, my senses go right out the door. He makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. He has me craving things I’ve never craved before. And I’m too scared to keep putting what seems like my heart on the line for JW to walk away while grumbling something about me being younger.
“You heard right. Look at the display cases.” There’s not much to say. The empty store, the empty display case, me moving things around, it should all be a clear sign. My thumb has stopped throbbing thanks to me sucking on the tip. I don’t know how it makes it stop hurting; it just does. Thankfully, JW didn’t see me with my thumb in my mouth, or I’m sure he’d make a comment about our age difference.
“Mae.” He’s trying to get my attention, tempting me to turn around with the deep baritone of his voice. Nope, not doing it, not at all. I get back to my task, or I thought I would be. JW is gripping me by the waist, willingly touching me, and I’m unprepared for the onslaught of sensations it pulls from my body. I want to protest, to kick him and scream.
No, no, no. Why now? The devastatingly handsome cowboy is getting his way. The chair beneath my feet is gone, and a skidding sound echoes above the music I have softly playing throughout the bakery. Where the chair is at now is anyone’s guees. I’ve been having a rock moment, the heavier and older, the better. Currently, Pearl Jam’sYellow Ledbetteris crooning through the speakers.
“Baby girl, you don’t stop writhing, I’m going to back you into the wall and give you a reason to squirm against me.” I let out an audible gasp, shock thrumming through me. My mouth opens and closes. In the meantime, he’s somehow managed to spin me around while lifting me in his arms in one fell swoop. My brain short-circuits, coming up empty on what to do and what to say. He’s lucky the hammer is still in my hand and not dropping to the ground or hitting the black and white checkered tile flooring. JW moves his forearm beneath my ass, and his now free hand takes the hammer out of mine, carefully placing it on a table.
“What are you doing?” I finally find the words. Apparently, JW is hellbent on keeping me wrapped up in his arms. We both stay silent as he walks through the shop, not putting me down. While I’d usually be worried about my curvy figure, JW doesn’t seem to be struggling or breaking a sweat, so I do the most unlike mething: I stay quiet. My hands grip his biceps, feeling them flex beneath my palms.Later, Maeve. Later, you can pick apart this whole interaction with your favorite drink.And I’ll no doubt mourn the loss of my store front, too.
FIVE
JW
I had planned on driving by and checking whether Maeve’s car was in the parking lot. My hand had a mind of its own, flipping the blinker up and making the turn into Whisked Away’s parking lot before my eyes even locked on her car. Today was my lucky day. Both her delivery van and personal car were parked off to the side. I should have known something was off by the lack of other vehicles or people walking on the sidewalk. A few moments later, after parking my truck and walking inside, my hackles were raised. Maeve stood on a dining room chair hammering a nail into the wall, not a soul in sight, and I reacted. She didn’t hear me, and all I thought about was what could happen.
“I think it’s pretty clear what I’m doing, Mae,” I finally answer. She’s remained quietwhile I made the walk with her in my arms, wishing like hell she’d wrap her legs around my waist. She doesn’t. Instead, her body is stick straight minus her hands on my arms. The tips of her fingers dig into the back of my arms even when I place her on the metal prep countertop. This conversation won’t be for potentially prying eyes. The last thing I want is a customer, her family, or my family walking in on us.
“Uh, actually, no, it’s not.” Her hands drop away from me. I step closer, causing Maeve to spread her thighs. My thoughts go to her being naked, spread-eagled, while I watch as she squirms. I’d watch and wait, prolonging the process until I see her cunt dripping with wetness. I lick my lips, imagining what Mae will taste like. My teeth press into my lower lip as I move my hands until they’re on the tops of her thighs. She’s showing a whole lot more skin than usual, and it’s appealing in more ways than one. Maeve’s shirt is hanging off her shoulder. The strap of what I’m assuming is her bra is the only thing telling me she’s wearing something beneath that white cotton shirt. Her shorts have ridden up even more, and my hands have a mind of their own, sliding upwards until the tips of my fingers meet the edge of her linen-style bottoms.
“I think it’s pretty damn clear, baby girl.” Her breath hitches as I pull her to the edge of the table. My cock is rock fucking solid beneath myjeans, and it’s not just because I’ve got Mae in a place I could easily take her. Oh no, she’s got it all, beauty and brains. Today, her hair is up in some kind of half-up, half-down contraption with a scarf tied around the part that’s being held up with a clip. Mae’s face is devoid of makeup, not so much as mascara or lip gloss. Dark chocolate eyes, deep and soulful, porcelain skin, hair so dark it’s jet black, and when the sun catches it a certain way, there’s an undertone of blue. Slim shoulders, tits that my mouth waters at whenever she walks, watching as they bounce, wanting them in my hands and mouth. The thought of seeing her nipples tighten and wondering what color they’ll be when I get my first look has me ready to lift her shirt. Curves that have me ready to bite my fist to keep from commenting. Narrow waist, hips that a man can grab on, and not just any man.
Me and only fucking me.
I’ve heard Maeve complain to my sisters about how her hips and legs are too big. As far as her being too big or too little, I beg to fucking differ. I’ve dreamt, jacked off, and fantasized about feeling her thighs clenching around my head, being buried between them as I fuck her pussy with my mouth.
“JW, I assure you nothing is clear. Absolutely nothing." Maeve’s hands lift away from their place on the counter, her finger pointing back and forth between the two of us. “Notthis or whatever this is or isn’t between the two of us. Not my shop looking like an abandoned town. Not the person slamming me in reviews. Absolutely nothing.” There’s a tremble in her voice, and while I’ve got a lot of questions, right now I’m thinking she needs something else. My dick is none too happy with me either, but he’ll have to fucking wait. His time is not now. I’ll have Mae naked soon enough.
“Talk to me. We’ll circle back to the you and me conversation.” I’m not sure if she’s aware of her hands falling on top of mine. Her fingers squeeze mine, and I wait till she’s ready to tell me what in the actual fuck is going on. Mae inhales through her nose, then exhales through her mouth. She does this three times with her eyes closed, allowing me to take my time studying her. I’m left with nothing to do except look my fill, and look I do. Maeve’s breathing has her chest lift with each breath. Up and down, and I swear to Christ her nipples tighten into hard peaks.
“Are you sure you want to know about my problems? You’ve been staying away from me for a while now. It’s enough to give a girl a complex.” She pulls her hands away from mine with that statement. I’d protest, but I’ve got her where she can’t escape, not like she’s trying to anyways. Still, I’ll take what I can fucking get.
“Yeah, baby girl, I’m sure.” As much as it pains me to move my hand, I do. When my right hand slides up her arm, her flesh awakens with goosebumps.I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying my hands on her more than she cares to admit. I cup the back of her neck, massaging her there to help her relax.