The Heat
1210 Words
Celine POV
“I’m sick of this!”
Shawn's gaze followed me as I dropped my head against the arm of the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. His hands slid to the back of my neck, thumbs pressing lightly, but whatever he was saying washed right over me.
“Someone’s having a bad day,” he murmured. Who’s got you all worked up?”
I puffed out an exhale, gluing my eyes to the chandelier glittering above us. “Are there any tortillas left?” I asked, turning to him.
The subtle twitch of his jaw hardly masked how he took my question. Still, his eyes stayed on me as he called for Rose. She scurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands with a piece of cloth.
“Morning, Madam,” she dropped a small curtsy.
“Tortillas,” I said. “Are there any left? And some coffee, if there is.”
Her eyes glanced upwards. “Um… well, there are some tamales, but if you’d like, I could—”
“I’ll handle it, Rose,” Shawn cut in.
She hesitated, then nodded before slipping away. The last thing I needed was a fight—not today. I sucked in a breath, ready for one anyway. But before I could speak, Shawn stood and disappeared into the kitchen.
I didn’t know if following him was a wise idea, but letting him walk away felt worse. I settled on the metal door frame and watched as he threw an apron over his neck, reaching for the coffee carafe.
Is this happening right now?
My brows pinched. “Are you…?”
“Baking for my queen?” He didn’t look up as he sprinkled salt into a bowl and reached for the jug of oil. “Yeah. Coffee?”
“Uhh… sure.”
Not the words I had in mind, but I didn't plan on complaining. “Did I miss something?”
He poured coffee into a mug and handed it to me.
“Thanks.”
“You know, Rose could still do this,” he said, stirring the thick paste with a wooden spoon.
Between the thought of those tortillas and the heavy rumble in my stomach, I lost the will to argue. I just pulled a chair over.
“Alright, babe,” he said, pouring oil into the bowl. “I'm all ears.”
My breath swirled the mist drifting from my mug as I took a sip. “After keeping me in the office for four hours, all they could say was that the flight was delayed. Then they might not make the meeting.” My voice cracked. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Mm-hmm!” he sucked the batter off his finger. “One heck of a client you’ve got there. Still planning to push through?”
I propped my chin in my palm, watching the saucepan sizzle as he tossed some chopped tomatoes and garlic into it.
“Honestly, I don't know anymore. They only rainchecked for next week, but— I don’t wanna mess this up. This means a lot to me.”
“And at what cost?” he asked quietly.
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but whatever it was, my pulse wasn’t supposed to bob at it.
He crossed the island and leaned into me— close enough that his hazel eyes forced me to tighten my grip on the counter to steady myself. “If there’s one thing I know,” he said, “It’s pressure. And you’ve always handled it like a pro. You’re one of the top brands in the city. Three years is a long time, you know.” His thumb traced my jaw. “Besides, I’ll always be your favorite customer.”
I should’ve thanked him. Stepped away. Say something sensible.
Instead, I stayed.
He tipped my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The faint trace of whiskey lingered on his breath as the tip of his tongue softly parted my lips. He seized my waist, hoisting me onto the counter with practiced ease. A wave of heat surged through me as he nudged my legs apart. I snatched a fistful of his hair, trying to catch my breath as he pressed our bodies together.
Every reason to pull away was right there. I knew exactly what this would cost me. Yet, I let him draw words out of my mouth like water from a well. “Take me right here.”
He growled and yanked my blazer off my shoulder. As he fumbled with the buttons at my cleavage, I locked my legs around his waist.
“Babe?” I whispered. “The-”
“What?” His voice low, planting kisses along my neck.
“Shawn!”
“Shit.” He sharply rushed to the stove and killed the flame.
The smell of burnt sauce seeping from the pan should have reminded me how foolish I was. Instead, I thought of how much I still wanted his hands to strip me of any resentment I felt.
He coughed, waving smoke away. “Guess Rose wins this round.”
I nodded, biting back a smile. “You think?”
•••
“Gosh, Rosie,” I wiped my mouth as she cleared the table. “I’m sorry I doubted you. What can’t you do?”
She smiled. “Well, I don’t serve burnt tortilla sauce, do I?”
I laughed, nearly choking on my water. “Better make sure he doesn’t hear that.”
“That boy’s been pranking me ever since he was a kid,” she said. “I’ll make him eat the batter if I have to.”
I raised a brow. Now that, I’d pay to see!
“You’ve been busy since I got here.” What’s the rush?”
“Oh.” She adjusted the tray in her hands. “The lawyer stopped by earlier. Something about signing papers.”
“Winston?” Why am I just hearing this?
“He didn’t tell you?” her voice almost apologetic.
“No. We were just...never mind.”
She headed for the sink, turning the faucet. “He didn’t take long. But the way Shawn held those papers—well. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he needed glasses.”
My stomach tightened. “What papers?”
She turned to me, the corner of her lip slightly stretched. “I should be asking you, darling.”
Before I could answer, she added, “Oh—and Sylvia called. She mentioned you guys have an appointment at the florist's shop. Shawn’s been on the phone for quite some time. I don't wanna disturb him.”
I took a nervous gulp of my glass on the table, forcing my voice steady. “Of course.”
The thought of my car waiting outside erased every idea of my sleeping over. But before I could bolt from my chair, the doorbell chimed, rooting me to the spot as my pulse thudded in my throat.
Rose cracked the door open, and in that second, I would have preferred teleporting home over facing the person who stared back at me from the other side.
- Writer
