Sebastian (The Billionaire Boyfriend #1) - Christina Benjamin Page 0,8
that will flatter any tablecloth at the rehearsal dinner. Usually, I select them much more carefully, but these would have to do on short notice. Bash’s dark hair hangs in his eyes as he moves, a smear of batter on his cheek that he doesn’t notice. His eyes are focused and calm, his lower lip captured beneath his white front teeth as he concentrates.
Say what you will about Bash’s haughty demeanor, the man is sexier than anyone I'd ever met—and I'd had Henry Cavill stroll into my bakery last month for some double chocolate cookies.
I find myself fascinated by the batter on Bash’s cheek, imagining what it might taste like if I lean in a little closer and lick it off.
Down, girl! I mentally hiss before my body starts moving on its own.
Ugh. This is what happens when you work too hard to date.
His arm grazes mine and suddenly I realize this is the closest I’ve been to a man in a long time.
Bash begins to fill the cupcakes with batter under my direction, swiping his hair out of his face with the back of his hand. It only adds more batter to his gorgeous face.
“Here, Bash, you’ve got some . . .” I lean up, flicking a few clumps of batter from his black hair.
He grins at me, a grin that makes my veins simmer. Bubbles of heat burst in my stomach and I clear my throat. “It’s nice of you to do this, you know. For your sister. It’ll mean a lot to her when you tell her you helped make these. It’s the perfect wedding gift,” I babble, straining to focus my thoughts anywhere but his handsome face.
“I could just buy her something,” he answers blankly, mouth pinching slightly to the side. “That would be more memorable, I think, because it would give her something to hang on to forever. These cupcakes will be gone in just a few hours.”
I feel a reflection of his uncertain frown forming on my own face. “When you give a gift, it’s not about how long it lasts, it’s about how much the person will treasure it. Something that you made by hand will surely be something she treasures, even after it’s gone.”
He gives a shrug, dismissing my words as he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t agree,” he says definitively, giving me no more room to argue. “Cupcakes are cute, sure. She’ll think it’s nice that I helped bake them if I choose to tell her, though I probably won’t because then I'll have to explain that I forgot to order them ahead of time. But possessions, accomplishments, things that you can actually look at months or years after . . . that’s what I treasure.”
Spoken like a man who has deep pockets and the ability to buy anything he wants.
Naturally, to him, something with a price tag would equal happiness. I decline to press my point further, knowing there’s no point to it.
“I couldn’t imagine doing this,” Bash suddenly says, glancing toward the now dwindling line of people at the front of the shop as my staff preps for closing. “It’s so hot in here with the ovens going and there’s so much noise and constant mess. What about this appeals to you?”
He appraises me as one might appraise an unusual animal at the zoo. I can tell he’s not quite sure what to make of me. Funny, seeing as that’s how I'm probably looking right back at him.
In my line of work, I meet a lot of people with differing values than myself. Somehow Sebastian takes the cake entirely. Speaking with him is like speaking with someone who grew up on a totally different planet.
“Well, I get that this might not be for everyone, but I believe this is what I was put on this earth to do,” I answer with a shrug.
It might not be the most concise or eloquent of responses, but I mean every word. To my surprise, he gives a slow nod of understanding.
“Do you have a bathroom where I can clean up while the cupcakes are baking?” he asks. “I have to head straight to the dinner after this and I've got flour everywhere.”
“It’s because you insisted on taking off the apron,” I tease. “I actually live right above the bakery. You can use my shower if you want.”
“I wasn’t planning on showering.”
“You might want to reconsider, you’ve got flour all over your face.”
He frowns but gives a simple