A Sweet Mess - Jayci Lee Page 0,45

wasn’t even home. She was in Bosque Verde. With Landon. Burying her hot face in her hands, Aubrey fell back into bed. Did he think I passed out drunk? What else could he think?

People weren’t kidding. Stress really is your body’s worst enemy. Her stamina had dropped to nil in the last couple months. Her immune system was crap, too, if her recurring sore throat were any indication. She should take better care of herself. Comfort Zone wasn’t going to run itself when she went back.

And how did I get to my room? Landon must’ve hauled her ass to bed, and she’d slept through it. Despite her embarrassment, goose bumps spread on her skin. He’d held her in his arms, pressing her against his hard, broad chest, and she couldn’t remember a stitch of it. What a waste of glorious skin to skin.

Aubrey groaned and flipped onto her stomach. How am I going to face him tomorrow? It was catastrophically mortifying. What if she’d drooled in her stupor? Oh, God. Before her panic could reach its peak, an idea popped into her head. She would make it up to him and buy his silence by baking him her sweet buns. No matter how exasperated, annoyed, and/or angry he might be, Landon wouldn’t be able to stay that way after a taste of the delicious morsels. She clapped her hands together and grinned, unintentionally reenacting the scene where Sister Maria decides to sew play clothes for the von Trapp children out of old curtains.

Aubrey headed to the bathroom, humming “Do-Re-Mi” and stripping off her wrinkled clothes. Steam filled the shower in an instant thanks to the villa’s fantastic water pressure, and she stepped beneath the water with a lusty sigh. When she could afford it, she would totally spring for top-notch plumbing.

The long, hot shower washed away her tension, and she stepped out shrouded in a perfume of lavender and citrus. Feeling infinitely calmer and in control, she tugged on her black cami and matching shorts.

She pressed her ear against her door and held her breath. The house was quiet. Landon must have been asleep. Throwing on an emerald kimono, Aubrey tiptoed down the stairs. Other than the moonlight streaming in through the windows, the villa lay in darkness. With a sigh of relief, she padded into the kitchen and switched the light on.

Getting her hands messy with flour, sugar, and spices never failed to chase her worries away. The scent of rising dough and butter filled the air and brought a smile to her heart. Aubrey hummed an unknown tune as she laid out pieces of pudgy round dough on the baking sheet. She loved the pale innocence of uncooked dough—plump and squishy as a baby’s cheeks. She would let them proof overnight, then brush on some melted butter and sprinkle them with turbinado sugar in the morning.

When the buns were tucked safely in the fridge, she tidied the kitchen with practiced efficiency. Satisfied with her midnight project, Aubrey took off her apron and reached for the kimono she’d thrown over a stool. Her hand froze midair when Landon strode into the kitchen wearing a towel slung low on his waist. A good sneeze would’ve dislodged the loosely tied towel. Where the hell is the pepper shaker?

His broad chest glistened with drops of water, and damp curls of jet-black hair fell across his forehead. She’d forgotten how beautiful he was. If she’d only seen a photo of him, she would’ve bet her bakery that the picture was photoshopped. The definition on his abs was absurd.

Her heart lodged itself in her throat as Landon stepped toward her, his face feral and hungry. Or maybe he was just thirsty for some water. Who knows? The desire roaring through her befuddled mind, but she knew denial wasn’t the answer.

They were standing in the same room, half-naked. It was a recipe for catastrophe. She had to create some space between them and cover up some skin. She fumbled to pull on her kimono, missing the armhole twice. Shit. Even when she succeeded in donning her robe, the scrap of silk barely hit the curves of her bottom.

As Landon took slow, measured steps toward her, Aubrey’s panic rose. He was going to kiss her. She could see it in the heat of his gaze. If he kissed her, she’d be lost. Her body was screaming for his touch. She wouldn’t be able to hold back if he so much as laid a finger on her.