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He lets out a long breath of air, looking me over as if to confirm I’m okay. Grabbing the back of my neck and gently pulling me into his arms, Grant gives me a tight hug. I smile into the curve of his neck. I love it when he shows this softer side.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you were baking up a rainbow. That’s a lot of…how are those sprinkles? They’re lines.”
Leaning back, I chuckle at his question. “I have to wait for the royal icing lines to dry before I’ll break them up to look like sprinkles.”
“Oh.” His brow furrows as he thinks about this. “That makes sense.”
“They should be dry by now actually,” I muse, eyeing the clock. “I meant to have all this done before you got here.”
“That’s no problem. I’m early.” The cocky grin he gives me heats every part of me. His power to turn me on with just a grin is diabolical.
Clearing my throat again, I step out of his arms and back into the kitchen. “Why don’t you chill while I finish up here? It won’t take me long.”
“Pixie, I’m not going to laze around. Put me to work.”
“Really?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.” He reaches for an apron I had tossed off to the side.
Professional hockey player and all-time hottie Grant Helms was helping me make sprinkles. Good Lord, my ovaries were about to explode. It was too much. The sight in front of me has me panting it’s so hot. Then he wiggles his eyebrows, enticing me further.
If it wasn’t for the trays of paper with royal icing everywhere in the kitchen, I would have jumped him. I swear on everything sugar filled I would have jumped him and demanded he take me right there, against the fridge. But I can’t contaminate the sprinkles like that.
Giving myself a moment to get the image of Grant’s naked ass out of my head, I take a deep breath before stepping closer. Silently, I gesture to the sink and we both begin to wash our hands.
“Okay, it’s simple really. Take that knife,” I point to a clean one on the counter while opening a drawer to grab another for myself, “and start cutting the lines at roughly a centimeter long.” I demonstrate with one of the trays.
Grant follows my lead, taking on a tray closer to him. His cuts are slow at first as he tests out the strength of the icing and gets into a rhythm. I watch him work for a little while, transfixed by his extreme focus, before catching myself and starting on another tray. In less than ten minutes we’re done.
“So,” Grant says, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “What’s next? Do we mix them or leave them separate?”
“Wow. You really enjoyed that, huh?”
“It was relaxing. I can see the appeal of baking now.”
I snort. He’s adorable. The idiot. “Umm, that wasn’t baking. And the best part of baking, you weirdo, is eating the treats.”
“Right. How could I have been so foolish.”
Giving him a playful nudge, I grab the box of plastic baggies. “I think we should bag all the colors individually. I’m not sure if Harrison will want them mixed. And it’s best to let him figure that out.”
“Alright. So, how about I bag everything up and you can finish up whatever it was you were doing before I got here.”
“Nah, I finished that. But I will go get changed,” I gesture down to my ripped yoga pants. “Can’t leave the house in pants in this heat, now can I?”
Sweeping the hair off my shoulder, Grant smirks at me. “You’re gorgeous and you know it.”
“This is true.” Going up on my tiptoes, I give him a quick kiss before skipping away.
???
“You look hot in a hat babe, but I’m not sure how I feel about you supporting another team.”
I snicker, not turning towards him as I buckle myself into his SUV. “It was the only hat I had.” My voice is full of glee as I tell him this. When I saw it hanging in my closet as I was getting changed, this was the exact reaction I was hoping for. Harrison had got me the hat a couple Christmas’s ago, not understanding that not everyone was as huge a baseball fan as he was. I was still representing a Toronto team, but Grant didn’t like that it wasn’t the Sixers.
He mumbles something under his breath. “And don’t hats make us invisible? I had to wear one to get in on the fun.”
“Dork,” he kisses my cheek before pulling out of the lot. It’s another hot day but the rain yesterday seems to have broken some of the humidity. As Grant dives us across the city to the furniture store he’s chosen, I people watch from my side. Feeling at ease, I sigh and quietly sing to the radio.
