“I’m already twenty-five.”
“Oh, lord.” I groan, face falling into my palm, “You’re having a quarter life crisis? You know your life isn’t over if you don’t have kids by thirty. It’s not the eighteenth century anymore, Maddox.”
“I am not having a quarter life crisis.” He snaps, bristling slightly as his arms cross over his chest, “Is that even a real thing?”
“Very real.” I groan, rubbing my forehead, “If that’s not the issue then what is it?”
He runs his hand again through his hair, shooting another glance towards the oven and then out the glass door towards his waiting car. It was odd, seeing a man with his money and stature and power so obviously uncomfortable.
“Maddox?”
His blue eyes shift back to me, shoulders sagging slightly.
“I’m sorry. This is just so humiliating.”
Before I can think about it, I reach out a hand to softly pat his knee. The second my fingers brush over the smooth fabric of his black slacks, lightning sparks down my fingers, making my heart leap in my chest. I stiffen, jerking my hand back to my side.
He stares down at where I touched him, blue eyes faintly dazed. Suddenly, the timer on the oven dings shrilly, making both of us jump.
I whirl around, kneeling to yank the baking sheet out of the oven. Without thinking, even though I’d done this a million times in my life, I grab at the metal pan with my two, bare hands. Shrieking in pained shock, I pinwheel backwards, cookies flying into the air as I tumble backwards onto the ground.
Before I can I even dazedly blink, Maddox is kneeling over me, my hands in his own with a cool rag pressed to my fingers.
“Damn, Ava. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
I laugh but tears sting in my eyes, prickling like tiny, warm needles in my corneas.
“Hey…” He murmurs, scooping me up like I weigh nothing more than a feather and setting me delicately on the counter. He inspects the angry red flesh on my fingertips, pressing the cold rag back into place, “Does it hurt a lot?”
I shake my head but a stubborn, single tear snakes down my cheek. Frowning, he wipes it gently with his thumb, his fingers curling around the back of my neck. I lean into his touch, breath hitched in my throat.
I was telling the truth. The pain wasn’t bad, but the embarrassment was. Shattered cookies lay on the floor, the oven still open, the pan upside down on the tile.
Why did I keep making a fool of myself in front of this gorgeous man?
“Do I need to take you to the doctor?” He presses in my silence, but I shake my head again sharply.
His eyes were so tenderly scrutinizing, trying to read between the lines of my clenched jaw and water eyes, that I had to look away. I couldn’t handle seeing such affection in his eyes. It couldn’t be real, after all, there was no way.
Even if his pleas for me to marry him were real, the affection wouldn’t be.
“I need to clean up.” I whisper, gently tugging free of his warm touch even though I wanted to bask in it, starting to slip off the smooth counter.
Maddox’s hands press to my hips, stilling me, his eyes burning into my own. He stood so close I could practically hear the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
“Stay.” He replies softly, squeezing my hips one more time before he crouches on the ground. He flips over the baking sheet, now safely cooled, and one by one begins to pick up the crumbling remains of the cookies.
“I’ll make more for Elliot.” I offer as he tilts his head back to give me a sly grin.
“Are you sure you can manage that without the bodily harm?”
Playfully, I prod the tip of my shoe into his shoulder. He shakes his head, still grinning as he plops the cookie tray onto the top of the oven.
I’d still have to vacuum up the rest of the crumbs before it’d attract any bugs, but I was grateful for the help. Not a single person had helped me since I lost my mom. Then again, I doubted I’d have been able to accept any help.
So why did I accept it from Maddox then?
“Is that Nancy?”
He points towards the picture of Mom behind the counter, bending slightly so that he could get a better look at her. I nod, reaching towards it. The plastic casing is heavy around the photo. I was too clumsy for a glass frame.
When I move to put it back, the billionaire is watching me pensively.
“I lost her a year ago.” I finally say with what I hoped was a careless shrug. Even just saying that simple phrase made my heart sting.
Would it ever not be painful?
“I’m sorry.” He offers quickly, inching closer to me.
Gently, he pulls my hands back out in front of me, studying my aching fingers. I hadn’t held the pan for long enough to burn more than my pride. The irritated red would fade soon, but the heat of his hand on mine would linger long after.
“You never finished…” I begin, clearing the hoarseness from my throat, “You never finished explaining why had to get married.”
His chest falls with a sigh, slight smile curving his mouth even though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You aren’t one to be easily distracted, are you?” He murmurs, releasing me from his grasp.
“Where’s the cookie dough?” He adds while I shake my head and point back towards the fridge.
He stops in front of the ancient appliance, his head shaking as he delicately pulls open the fridge door like he’s worried it will fall apart under his hands. Which, to be honest was a very real possibility.
He pulls out the large bowl of dough, carrying it back to rest beside me on the counter. He drags a fresh cookie sheet out from the stack below the oven and begins carefully dispensing a spoonful at a time of the sweet, chocolatey dough onto the pan just like he’d seen me do.
“You’re a nature.” I tease while he just smirks at me.
“I haven’t been smart with my money.” He announces abruptly, my head tilting to the side in surprise, “I’m bankrupt. Or I will be in a few months.”
“Why?” I gasp, trying not to sound so shocked though it must’ve been obvious.
“I grew up with a silver spoon, Ava. I never learned to be responsible. I wasted it on cars, houses, luxuries that I didn’t need. I have a huge inheritance that was supposed to be given to me on my twenty fifth birthday, but my parents decided to wait. They gave me a year to clean up my act.”
“And you didn’t, I take it.”
He shakes his head, turning to slide the pan carefully into the oven, “I didn’t.” He echoes.
“So why do you have to marry a stranger?”
“My parents want me to settle down. They want to see that I can be responsible.”
“And the only way to do that is to get married?”
“It’s the easiest way.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, focusing instead on the sheet of cookies resting behind the closed oven door. Maddox Dodge was lazy, no way around that.
If only he wasn’t so handsome, perhaps this decision would be easier.
“I’d need something from you.” I say quietly, still not looking at him. With every syllable rocked against my tongue, I could feel my pride and dignity being chipped away, even more then when I collapsed on the floor or inhaled a scone.
“Of course.” He says instantly, “I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. Anything you want, it’s yours. Money, jewelry, clothes-”
“I want you to save this café.” Lifting my chin, I narrow my eyes on his gorgeous face, willing myself forward, “I want you to promote it, I want to see it full of customers, I want it to be successful. I want everyone on the block to be talking about Nancy’s.”
“Done.” He nods, edging closer, “I can promise you that your mother’s café will have never seen success like what I can assure you will happen if you become my wife.”
“How long will we be married?”
“At least a few years. It has to look real. Let’s say two or three years, we can iron out the details later.”
“And what do you expect of me?” I ask carefully, heat rising up my neck slow and steady as a volcano preparing to burst.
Was Maddox already planning our first night together as husband and wife? I could never jump into bed so quickly with him, even though he was gorgeous and his muscles were so perfectly etched into his body like art on a canvas…
He blinks, confused by the question.
“Expect?”
“What do you expect… as far as, um, typical marital relationships go?”
Oh my god, this was mortifying. I wanted to melt into the countertop and disappear forever. If only Reagan hadn’t been so plastered the night before, then I could have talked to her about this. Though she probably would have tried to talk me out of it.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t bring it up at all.
I couldn’t tell her that I was so hard up for cash that I was marrying a man I barely knew.
His eyes widen just slightly as he realizes the meaning behind my words, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.
“I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to, Ava. Never. You will have to move in with me of course, and you will have to a share a room with me at least in the beginning… but I will never touch you in a way you don’t desire.”
I look away, inspecting the cookie timer as though it could give me all the answers in the world.
Sharing a room. Sharing a bed with a stranger.
Was I that desperate to keep Mom’s café?
Of course I was.
“Okay. You win, Maddox.” I echo his words from earlier, though mine now tremble.
My whole body trembles, all the way to my soul.
What have I done?
“You won’t regret this.” He promises, his voice rising an upbeat octave. He grins at me, that dimple in his chin almost comforting. Almost.
But what if I already regret it?
What if I’ve just made the hugest mistake of my life?