Chapter Three
Lexi
After deactivating the alarm, I led the way through the receiving entrance of Your Just Desserts. Darak followed me, practically vibrating with excitement.
Why had I allowed the date to progress this far? It would have been kinder to have told him at the restaurant I didn’t want to go out again. The way he stared at me—like I was the sun and moon and stars and a Luigi special all rolled into one—meant I couldn’t follow through with my plan. I couldn’t use him to make a statement when I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to say anymore. And what had I been thinking to try to cause a scene at my little sister’s wedding?
I’d chosen an alien because I assumed he would be an unsuitable escort. Then I met him. He was too nice, too sweet, too open, too honest. He might be over seven feet tall, with muscles bursting the seams of his homespun Daniel Boone outfit, but he’d be eaten alive by my family and their friends.
Dandelions. He’d picked me a bouquet of dandelions! The weeds meant more to me than an expensive arrangement of long-stemmed roses ever could.
I couldn’t subject him to the stares, the whispers, the camouflaging air kisses of New Los Angeles’s high society. He would be hurt—and more by me, when I tossed him aside after the wedding, than by them. Already he cared too much, or imagined he did.
He thought he’d found his life partner while I’d sought a disreputable, faux boyfriend to shock my mother. I felt small and petty, ashamed of myself for what I’d planned—and for allowing the date to progress.
One cupcake. We’d have one cupcake—or in his case, maybe six—and then I’d tell him the truth: we had no future. He needed to find himself a nice Earth girl who would appreciate his earnest manner, his rockin’ bod, that handsome chiseled face, his shoulder-length glossy hair, those horns. They looked like smooth, supple leather, thicker around but smaller than my thumb, their darkness standing out against his mocha skin. I’d swear I’d seen them throb.
Taking him to my parents’ estate for the wedding would be a terrible idea. The rich society bitches might not invite him to their parties or country clubs, but like slumming it with the pool boy or the gardener, they’d do him in a heartbeat.
Over my dead body.
“Very nice,” he said, pivoting to survey the customer area of the shop. A half-dozen small tables with stools provided a dining area, although most of my business consisted of takeout or special orders. Like wedding cakes.
Tall, wide windows overlooked the street to draw foot traffic. The cases were stocked with eat-in items like cupcakes, cookies, a few pies, and some emergency sheet cakes quickly decorated for parents who suddenly remembered their kid was having a birthday. Solve a problem, gain a customer for life.
“I like it. It’s bright and cheerful,” he said.
“Do you want to see the rest? I can give you a tour.”
“Absolutely.”
I led him back down the hall and into the kitchen. “We do the baking there.” I pointed out the bank of industrial-sized ovens. “I have multiple stations for prep like mixing batter and dough. We use those machines, there.” I gestured to the large mixers mounted on the stainless-steel counters.
He ran his hand over a white countertop threaded with black veins. “This is so smooth and cool.”
“Marble. Nothing works better for rolling out pie dough.”
“You do all the work yourself?”
“No. I started out that way, but now I employ ten people, including two other bakers. I still do a lot of the baking because I enjoy it—I am a pastry chef—but the business aspects consume more of my time.” I enjoyed it the most when I could just create. I tended to do that at home like when I developed my Cherries Jubilee cupcakes.
I moved to a large stainless door. “Here’s the part you’ll appreciate—the refrigerator!” I yanked open the door. A frosty 38-degree Fahrenheit cold rolled out.
Darak made a beeline for it. Inside, he took a deep breath and sighed, basking in the cold the way Earthers enjoyed the summer sun at the beach. “This is nice. The best part.”
“Not the cupcakes?” I teased. I’d had a hunch he’d appreciate the refrigeration.
“How can I say? I haven’t had them yet.” He cocked his head and grinned, teeth white in his bronzed face.
My stomach fluttered like a high schooler crushing on the football jock. “Well, let’s um…uh…remedy that. Let’s have a cupcake.”
I fanned my heated face as I fled to the front of the store. I opened the case and peered inside. “What kind would you like? Margarita Key Lime, Strawberry Shortcake, Pumpkin Spice, Salted Caramel, Black Cherries Jubilee, Pina Colada, Raspberry Razzle Dazzle, Champagne Vanilla, Death by Chocolate… “
He wasn’t answering. His face was screwed up with concentration.
“Darak? What sounds good?”
“Any of them—all of them, except maybe Death by Chocolate. That one sounds dangerous.”
I laughed. “Oh, it is. You can gain five pounds just by looking at it.”
I got him a Pumpkin Spice, Salted Caramel, and the Black Cherries Jubilee and picked out a Death by Chocolate for myself. What the hell. The dress I’d bought for my sister’s wedding was stretchy.
I set the cupcakes on a small table by the window. “Have a seat. What can I get you to drink? I can brew some coffee, or there’s tea, water.” I shrugged. “Or milk.”
“Milk—like the stuff the cheese was made out of? I’ll have that.”
I got us a couple of glasses of reduced-fat milk—kind of like having a diet soda with a double bacon cheeseburger and large fries—and brought them over.
“Go for it.” I motioned with my chocolate cupcake as I peeled off the crimped paper.
He tore the wrapper off his caramel one and took a big bite. His eyes lit up with pleasure before he closed them and chewed slowly as if savoring the flavors. His whole face radiated bliss. It was for that reaction that I baked and started Your Just Desserts—to bring my customers joy if only for the time it took to finish a muffin.
He sampled the Pumpkin Spice next, and then the Cherries Jubilee.
“Which one do you prefer?” I asked.
“This one—” He pointed to the cherry cupcake. “No, maybe this one.” He tried the caramel again then the pumpkin. “I don’t know.”
I laughed. “Here, try this. It won’t hurt you—promise.” I held out my chocolate cupcake. I expected him to take it from me, but he clasped my hand and brought it to his lips. Heat seared my wrist at the point of contact, shooting tendrils of sensation clear down to my toes, hitting all the erogenous zones along the way. My breath caught in my throat when our eyes locked as he took a bite. Slowly, he released my hand, but it continued to hover there, until it dawned on me what I was doing and I yanked it back.
As he ate, his chest rumbled with what I could only describe as a sexual growl, and I formed a mental image of the two us naked and twisting in bed then licking whipped cream and chocolate sauce off each other’s bodies. I shifted on the stool and pressed my thighs together. I would never regard milk and cupcakes as sweet and innocent again.
The street-side door rattled, and I jumped. Heat flooded my cheeks as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
Outside, a man wearing faded jeans and a hoodie hunched his shoulders while motioning at the door.
I shook my head. “Sorry. We’re closed,” I mouthed and pointed to the sign.
Head bowed, scruffy face shadowed by the streetlight, he gestured again and yanked on the handle.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I got up, moved to the glass door, and jiggled the sign so he couldn’t possibly misunderstand. I couldn’t see his eyes but noticed a tat curling up the side of his neck. “Closed. We’re closed,” I shouted to ensure he heard through the glass.
He gestured angrily, shoved his hands into his pockets, and stalked down the street.
“You didn’t want to serve him cupcakes?” Darak asked.
“It’s late, business hours are over, and this is a private party.” I slid back onto my stool.
I put the interruption out of my mind and returned my attention to Darak, a big, hulking horned alien with a milk mustache and a smudge of pink cherry icing on his kissable lower lip. My body swayed toward him in an inappropriate way before I caught myself. “You have, uh…on your chin…” I touched the corner of my mouth.
He stared at my lips. “I have what?” his baritone rumbled.
“Stuff on your face.” I stared at him staring at me.
He swiped a paper napkin across his mouth, caught the frosting, but left half the mustache.
“Let me.” I pulled a napkin from the dispenser and dabbed the remaining bit of white. His eyes blazed, and his horns twitched. “Better.” I dropped my hand before I did something stupid.
“Your cupcakes were delicious,” he said, and I realized he’d finished them all off. “And Death by Chocolate was worth the risk.” He grinned.
“Would you like another?” I glanced toward the case, and caught a glimpse of the clock over the cash register. One a.m.? I blinked. Time had flown by. I frowned. What had the guy in the hoodie wanted so late? We were eating cupcakes, but the sign said CLOSED.
“Yes—but I’d better decline,” Darak said, and I forgot all about the guy outside. “I’ve eaten enough.”
Tell him. It’s been great but… I hated this. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do.
Then, don’t.
“So tell me about the wedding next week. Is there anything I need to know?” he asked.
“Um…about that…” I twisted my napkin on my lap under the table. “Listen, um…” I mutilated the paper and averted my eyes from his earnest gaze. “I’m not going to need a date for the wedding after all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry. So very sorry.” This demonstrated why I avoided dating—it sucked.
It could have been fun if I’d allowed it…
“We can’t go out again,” I said. “This isn’t going to work, you and me.”
He flinched as if I’d slapped him.
“The Intergalactic Dating Agency erred in matching us. We want different things. You’re looking for a lifemate, and I just need a date for the weekend.” Words poured out in a rush as if speaking faster would get me through this unpleasantness quicker. Awkward didn’t cover it; this was painful. “It’s better for you if we end this now. It wouldn’t be right to mislead you, let you think there could be more than this.”
How could there be more than this when this was laughter and decadent cupcakes with a man with a rumbling accented voice who was so freakin’ sexy I wanted to hump his bones every time he took a breath. What was the problem?
Me. I’m the problem. I don’t deserve him. He needed a woman who would focus on him, not a workaholic businesswoman with a hypercritical, judgmental family.
“I see,” he said.
If he did, that made one of us. I didn’t understand at all. I’d intended to use him for shock and awe then decided I couldn’t go through with my nefarious plan, except, what prevented me from changing my mind again? This time we could date for real…
“All right then.” Stiffly, he got up from the table. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Alexandra Sutterman. Thank you for the cupcakes. I’ll let myself out.” He headed for the rear exit.
“I’ll drive you back to where you’re staying.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said brusquely.
I felt like gum on the sole of my shoe picked up from a dirty sidewalk. “No, I need to. It’s the middle of the night. It’s not safe out there.”
“It is not your job to protect me. It is my honor to protect you. Or would be, if we were mates.” He started down the hall, the breadth of his shoulders skimming the walls.
I grabbed my purse, flipped off the main lights, leaving on the security ones, and hurried after him. “Darak, please. Don’t go like this. Let me drive you.”
I’d botched this. I wasn’t good at breaking up. Breaking up? I wasn’t good at relationships. Had I ever had a good one?
Was that the issue? Could it be I’d recognized Darak and I might have something together, and it scared the crap out of me? If I’d never met my family’s expectations, how could I please a man? What if I let myself care, and it didn’t work out?
He pushed through the door just as I reached him, and we both barreled into the alley parking lot. The security door slammed shut with a click. My van, the lone vehicle, sat under the lamppost. Somewhere in the distance, a cat yowled, and a dog barked.
Darak started across the parking lot toward the alley, but I grabbed his arm. “Wait, please.”
The light over the bakery door cast enough illumination to reveal his jaw had gone tight and pain shadowed his eyes. “Wait for what?”
Yeah, wait for what? For me to decide to take a chance on living?
“Wait for me.” A man stepped from the shadows of a trash dumpster. The first observation to register was the hoodie, the second was the gun he pulled out of it. “Give me your money!”
I riveted on the weapon and the way his hand shook. With his finger jittering on the trigger, he could shoot us without meaning to, although I doubted he had any humanitarian intentions to begin with.
Darak growled.
“What the fuck is poking out of your head? You dressed for Halloween or something?” Hoodie said.
I was pretty sure Darak didn’t have any experience dealing with muggers and didn’t understand the danger. Hell, I’d never been mugged before. The only thing anybody had ever stolen from me was a good parking space.
“Give me your fucking purse.”
Darak growled again. “I don’t like it when you threaten my mate.”
“It’s okay, Darak.” I thrust out my handbag before he did anything heroic and stupid.
“Unless you got diamonds in there, just give me your wallet.”
My hands shook as I dug it out and tossed it. My wallet fell short of my target, landing on the ground with a splat, obligingly falling open to the money slot.
Keeping his eyes and the gun trained on us, Hoodie grabbed the billfold. “This is all you have? Twenty fucking bucks?” He pocketed my wallet.
Great. Now I’ll have to cancel all my credit cards. Yeah, like identity theft was my biggest problem right now.
“I don’t carry a lot of cash.” Nobody did. He had to be the stupidest mugger on the planet.
He motioned at the door with the gun. “Let’s go inside.”
“I don’t keep cash inside.” He really was a moron. Most sales were credit or debit, and at the close of business, we deposited the day’s cash receipts in the bank. I kept maybe fifty bucks in change in the safe. Was petty cash worth killing us over? Probably—especially if he got pissed at the paltriness. He could shoot us, lock our bodies in the walk-in fridge, and nobody would find us until Monday morning. Longer if the help happened to call in sick.
I had the horrible premonition we’d be signing our death certificates if we entered the bakery.
“Open it!” He waved at the door with his pistol.
Darak lunged, grabbing Hoodie’s weapon hand, and wrestled him to the ground. The gun fired, shooting out the light over the door in a spray of glass. Darak slammed Hoodie’s wrist against the blacktop, sending the pistol skidding across the asphalt and under the dumpster.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. I dumped the contents of my purse and dove for my phone. I swiped the screen, but my fingers didn’t work right, and it took three tries to get the app.
“What is your emergency?” responded the impersonal voice of 911 dispatch.
“We’re being robbed!” I shouted out of panic and because my ears were ringing from the shock wave of the gun blast.
“You’re being robbed?”
“Yes, a man with a gun is demanding our money.” Well, currently said man was weaponless and being pummeled by a seven-foot-tall pissed-off alien.
Darak dragged the mugger to his feet by his jacket, picked him up, and threw him across the parking lot. He slammed into the side of my van, setting off a piercing alarm, drowning out what the 911 dispatcher was saying. I scrambled on my knees for the key fob to shut it off. I found it, silenced the wail, and squinted at my vehicle. The fender appeared dented, but I wasn’t going to kick up a fuss. It would buff out. And, if not, a ding was a small price to pay for, well, life.
“Is he there now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in danger?”
Hoodie lay on the ground groaning. “Right at this second? I don’t think so.”
“What is your location?”
I gave the dispatcher the address. “We’re behind the building in the parking lot.”
“Get to a safe place if you can, and do not engage the suspect.”
“The suspect engaged us!”
“Are you in danger?” she asked again. Was she reading from a script like a telemarketer?
Hoodie staggered to his feet. Darak started toward him, and the mugger ran—or rather, limped away at a fast pace—and disappeared down the alley. “He’s gone now,” I said.
I hung up with 911 after promising to seek safety. It was easier than trying to explain. The script didn’t cover situations like this.
“Are you all right?” Darak jogged to my side.
The way he’d taken down the mugger had been incredible. Fearless, fast. Powerful. Hoodie never had a chance. He’d picked the wrong alien to mess with. My heart swelled with admiration. “Are you crazy?” I rounded on him. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to argue with an armed robber? He could have shot you! You’re supposed to give him what he wants.”
“We didn’t argue. He didn’t shoot me—I made sure of that. I could not allow him to threaten you.”
“Well…well…don’t do that again.” I still felt shaky, like my blood sugar had plummeted. It’s possible it had, considering all the pasta and the cupcake I’d eaten. “But…thank you. You were amazing.” I hesitated to praise him since it might encourage him to go all vigilante superhero and run around beating up criminals, but I owed him a thank you. A really big thank you. What if I’d been alone? I could have ended up a statistic on the police blotter.
“Come. I’ll walk you to your vehicle,” he said. “I’ll see you safely off then I’ll be on my way.”
Don’t leave. “We need to wait for the police.”
I’d no sooner spoken than a white vehicle with carnival lights pulled into alley. There must have been an open-all-night donut shop close by for them to arrive so quickly.
Two officers exited the vehicle: a woman about a decade older than me, and a younger pudgy guy with manboobs straining his tan uniform. Both rolled their hips with the strut of authority as they approached. “I’m Sergeant Jenkins. This is Officer Studmeyer,” the woman said.
I stifled a snicker. No male with manboobs should be called “stud” anything.
“You reported a robbery?” Jenkins continued.
“He had a weapon. He threatened my mate and demanded her purse,” Darak said.
I winced. I should have advised him to let me do the talking. I’d been quite blunt in telling him we had no future—why was he still referring to me that way? And why did my fluttering heart tempt me to reconsider my decision?
Of course, Jenkins picked up on the wording. “Your mate?” She squinted at him, her gaze riveting on his horns. Her eyes widened. “Are you an alien?”
“I’m a Dakonian.”
Studmuffin, er, meyer wasn’t impressed. All business, he whipped out a computer tablet. “What are your names, please?”
We told him.
“Can you describe the suspect?”
“He was a few inches taller than me—I’m five foot six. Young guy. Twenties. Needed a shave.” Pointing the gun at me, he’d seemed huge, but when I’d first seen him outside the front of my shop he hadn’t looked that big. “He wore a hoodie. Blue jeans. Faded. Oh—and he had like a dragon tail tat on his neck.” I touched the right side of my throat.
“Like a dragon or it was a dragon?” Jenkins asked.
“Definitely a dragon—I think. Or a scorpion.” Lizard, maybe?
“I don’t know what a dragon is, but the drawing on his neck was of a scaly blue creature with wings and a long tail with red fire coming out of its mouth,” Darak said.
A dragon, just like I said.
“What color hoodie?”
“Uh…something lightish.” I didn’t remember.
“Gray,” Darak said.
“Hair color? Length?”
“Brownish….or blond.”
“Brown. Short. Little longer than his,” Darak pointed to Studworth. “Brown eyes.”
I was a terrible eyewitness. All I could remember was staring down the barrel of a ginormous gun. Fortunately, Darak had an eidetic memory.
“Anything else stand out?”
“His shoes had a name,” Darak said.
“Name? What name?”
“I don’t know. I can’t read.”
The smirk Jenkins and Studley exchanged set my teeth on edge.
“How’s your Dakonian? He can read his language, just not ours,” I snapped, assuming he could read his language. Didn’t matter. What right did they have to mock him?
“I can copy it, write it for you,” Darak said.
Jenkins handed him a tablet of the paper kind and a pen. Darak scribbled in the notebook.
She peered at it. “Brizallo.” She read off a brand of sneaker. “What can you tell me about the weapon he used?”
“It’s still under the trash dumpster.” I pointed.
She frowned.
“He dropped it during the scuffle.”
“Scuffle?”
“Darak disarmed him.” I proceeded to relate the events as they had occurred.
The four of us walked to my van where Jenkins peered at the dented fender, glanced at Darak then eyed the location where the skirmish had taken place. I could see her mentally calculating the distance. I could also see the dent wasn’t going to buff out. I’d have to submit a claim to my insurance company. My rates would go up. I would be robbed a second time.
“Check the hospitals,” she told her partner. “He might be injured and might go there.” Studmiller retreated to the squad car to make the calls as Jenkins extracted her flashlight and strode to the wheeled dumpster. She pushed it out of the way and swept the area with her flashlight, revealing two guns. What the hell had been going on behind my shop?
Both pistols looked like toys now that one wasn’t jammed in my face. One gun was tiny enough to conceal in your palm—or the pocket of a hoodie.
Jenkins donned rubber gloves and extracted a plastic bag from a pocket on her utility belt. “Which one did the suspect use?”
I had no idea.
“The smaller one,” Darak said.
“Yeah, that one,” I seconded. If he said it was that one, it was that one.
Picking them up by the trigger guard, she bagged both guns.
Studwick met us at the dumpsters. “No one matching our suspect’s description has gone into the ER. They’ll watch for him.”
The officers asked us a few more questions and then wrapped it up. “If you remember anything else, give me a call.” Jenkins handed me her card. She glanced around the parking lot, darker now since Hoodie had blown out the light over the door. “You two should go home. Don’t stay here. He could come back.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice.
“We’ll leave now.” I motioned to Darak.
He shook his head. “I’ll walk.”
“Oh, for the love of banana cream pie!” I snapped. His refusal to accept a lift hurt. He’d called me his mate. Didn’t that count for anything? Did I want it to?
My feelings were so confused I didn’t know what I wanted. The way we had worked together and supported each other in the aftermath—not to mention his impressive, albeit risky, performance during the mugging itself—had complicated matters. I was reluctant for him to walk away, leaving things as they were—even though I didn’t know how I wanted them to be. However, the streets weren’t safe at night. He could encounter more robbers. Or a gang. “We were mugged! You shouldn’t be out alone this late.”
Jenkins glanced between the two of us. “I assumed you were a couple.”
“First date,” I explained.
“She told me she doesn’t wish to see me again,” Darak said.
“Come on.” She waved at Darak. “We’ll drop you off at home on our way back to the station.”
“That would be acceptable,” he said.
“Fine.” I stomped to my van.
The squad car blocked my vehicle, so I had to wait while it pulled out first. I watched Darak ride away with the cops.