Valhalla Cupcakes (11 page)

“It was a very good thing, I think,” she said. “And it was only a half dozen. It’s free advertising, don’t you see? I hope people actually watch that show.”

She couldn’t contain her excitement, couldn’t wait to search for the segment on the internet to see if she’d looked capable and professional. She slapped her hand to her head.

“How did my hair look?” she asked, trying to catch her reflection in the display case.

“The same as usual,” he answered, not helpful at all.

She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. “I hope a million people come because of that show.”

He held onto her, letting her slide down the length of him before resting her feet back on the floor. He smiled tenderly at her, then looked sheepishly at the customers over her shoulder. She turned to see the groups of women beaming at them.

“You two are so sweet together,” one of the older ones said.

“Yes, a lovely couple,” another one said, turning to her friend. “Were we ever that young, Mabel?”

Audrey shook her head at their misunderstanding, but Erik pulled her closer, announcing, “We’re very happy to be able to live our dream here. It’s truly Valhalla to us.”

Every single one of the customers sighed as if he’d just read the most beautiful, heart rending poem known to mankind, and even though she could see the teasing glimmer in his eyes, she couldn’t help but lean against him and go along with it for the sake of the ladies. Maybe for her own sake too, just a little.

The second day was only slightly less busy than the grand opening, and it kept them both on their toes until Audrey gratefully said goodbye to the last customers and locked the door behind them. The main difference was there was a huge call-in order that had to be ready for pickup the next day. The fancy ad agency up the block from her needed eight dozen cupcakes with green frosting for a teambuilding event, and she’d told them absolutely, giddy about her first catering order.

“Take a rest, we’re going to be baking some more,” she told Erik, trying to push him into a chair. “I’ll head out to the store to restock, and get us some dinner.”

She didn’t think he’d taken a break the whole day, barely pausing to inhale the hamburger she ran out to buy him at lunchtime. Now he swayed on his feet with weariness, but refused to budge.

“Let me go with you. You’re more tired than I am. I can carry things for you.”

He was probably right. She had spent a good part of what was left of last night having doubts and recriminations, instead of sleeping. Having him along would be quicker and easier than going alone, and she hadn’t got to chat with him much once the lunch rush hit. She strangely missed him, even though they’d been together all day. It felt good to be alone with him again.

“We will honestly eat better starting tomorrow,” she promised, after the shopping was done and they stopped to order tacos. With the loan sharks breathing down her neck, she couldn’t afford to hire another person to help out, and the busy rush of doing everything themselves made it impossible to think about cooking a hearty meal afterward. “I’ll call my mom if I have to and beg her to bring us something home cooked.”

“I’m so hungry, I could eat a chicken with its feathers still on,” he said amiably. “As long as it’s edible, I’m fine.” He pushed the door open for her and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “What would you tell your mother about me?”

She frowned at that, thinking they might be eating fast food for a while, as she definitely didn’t know how she’d explain Erik to her mother. Her mom would go haywire just knowing she was living with a man, let alone any mention of his extraordinary origins. Too much stress, right there.

All she wanted to do was swing her feet up into Erik’s lap and watch him scarf down his food, then have him rub her toes. Only then would she be able to get back in the kitchen to make eight dozen more cupcakes.

She unwrapped the tacos and placed them on a plate in front of him and sat across from him at one of the tiny cafe tables in the dining area. There was a third bedroom on the ground floor that she was currently using for storage, but now she planned to turn it into a cozy living area as soon as she had the money for it. She wanted to snuggle up with him on a couch, watch a movie, and enjoy a glass of wine after the long work day.

Stop being such a dummy, she told herself.

If she ever had extra money to buy living room furniture, that would mean the mobsters were off her back, and that would mean Erik was long gone. He only promised to stay until the debt problem was solved, and she’d promised to release him as well. Still, wouldn’t he be under her control even then? Just because they made a deal didn’t mean his curse was broken. She could keep him if she wanted to badly enough.

And he’d hate you forever, she thought. She shouldn’t be torturing herself with thoughts of the future anyway, as it was going to take ages to pay back a hundred thousand dollars. She’d get to enjoy Erik’s company for a good long time. She laughed out loud, finding it hard to believe she actually found something good about being under the thumb of ruthless money lenders.

“What’s got you laughing?” he asked, already finished eating.

“I was thinking about the news people,” she quickly covered. “Do you want to see if we can watch it?”

She ran for her laptop and found the website. The clip was even shorter than the few minutes the reporter was there, and heavily featured closeups of Erik, both front and back.

“You look scared out of your wits,” she teased, replaying it to see how the cupcakes showed up.

They didn’t stand up to the deliciousness of her Viking, but they looked good enough to hopefully draw in some more customers.

“Does that woman know about my curse?” he asked, confused about Lydia referring to him as a real life Viking. “Isn’t that something we should keep a secret?”

“She doesn’t really know anything. She was just saying that for effect because of the name of the shop, and because you’re big and blond. It’s kind of cute how well you fit in with the decor, actually.”

“I’ll tell you again, Audrey. I’m not cute. There’s nothing cute about me.”

Just him saying those words made her squeeze her hands at the cuteness overload. “I’m sorry, but I think you really are.”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to make you see that I’m not.”

His face grew intent and he stood up and leaned across the table, reaching behind her head to pull her close. The sensuous play of his lips on hers made her forget about all the work she still had to do. When he moved around the table to wrap his hands around her waist, she groaned, remembering, but trying to push it aside so she could enjoy his touch.

“Just a few minutes,” he murmured, his fingertips edging under the hem of her top. “Or longer, whichever you like.”

He moved his fingers upward along her back, sending ripples down her spine, and snapped open her bra with surprising dexterity.

“How did you get so good at that?” she asked, as his mouth traveled down her throat.

“I pay attention,” he told her. “For instance, I recall you like this quite a bit, yes?” He slid his hands up her sides and stroked his thumbs over her nipples.

“Yes,” she sighed, completely under his spell and wanting more.

He led her over to an armchair, then turned and sat in it, pulling her down on his lap. She got into a more comfortable position straddling him and rested her hands on the back of it, digging her fingernails into the dark green velvet as he resumed kissing her again.

Something about the color green kept interrupting the flow of her thoughts, which pleasantly swirled with the sensation of Erik’s hard body underneath her, and his firm, gentle kisses. How was she going to make the frosting green like the client wanted? It seemed so ugly to her. Maybe she could manage an ombre effect without it looking too tacky? As long as they tasted good, that was what mattered, but she still prided herself on presentation.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think we should get those cupcakes out of the way so I can concentrate.”

He looked overflowing with disappointment, and her limbs hung heavy at her sides as if berating her for making the wrong choice. She silently apologized to her body, while her brain did a smug victory dance.

“If we both mix up half, it shouldn’t take too long,” she promised both Erik and herself, while struggling to get her bra fastened again. “I need to figure out the frosting, too.”

She dragged him into the kitchen, and tossed his apron at him. “Hey, did you get any more phone numbers today?” she asked in an overly casual voice as she tied her own apron back on.

“Yes, but I threw them out since you didn’t seem to like it,” he said, with a far too complacent smile.

“Well, it’s not that so much as we just don’t have time for you to be dallying around like that.”

“Okay, Audrey,” he said, seeing right through her and seeming to enjoy her discomfort at being caught acting jealous.

She wasn’t jealous at all, she told herself firmly. It was the truth that all their time was taken up with the business, and would be until she had one hundred thousand extra dollars. There were plenty of men she might want to spend time with too, but they’d have to wait as well.

He stood with his apron on, and an expectant look on his face, waiting for her to give him instructions, and she knew it wasn’t true. There was no one she’d rather be with right now than him, even if it meant slaving over an industrial mixer until the wee hours.

“You take the vanilla, since that’s the easier recipe, and I’ll take chocolate. I think we’ll do whipped cream instead of cream cheese frosting. Gosh, I hate putting food coloring into frosting, but that’s what they want.” She stopped her rambling at the smile he bestowed on her. “What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “This is fun,” he said. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t been out much lately,” he paused to smirk at his bad joke. “But I like working here with you.”

She turned to hide her cheeks, which had to be blushing violet. “We’ll see if you feel that way in a couple hours.

They set up the bowls and utensils, and she preheated the oven, chattering about how well he was taking to modern life. Nothing seemed to phase him.

“I’ve been taking in the changes for hundreds of years,” he said. “I could hear everything that went on around me, and could see a bit of it. That’s what I’m enjoying the most, being able to see again.” He came up to her and placed his fingertips against the sides of her face, shading her eyes with his palms, like horse blinders. “Straight ahead of me, not up or down or left or right. That’s all I could see.

She shuddered and reached up to take his hands. “How awful.” She couldn’t imagine being stuck like that for an hour, let alone as long as he had been. “And I’m keeping you cooped up day and night, only seeing the inside of this place and the grocery store. I wish we had some free time. We could go to the beach.”

“There’s an ocean nearby?” he asked, looking so excited, she wanted to drive him there right then.

“About twenty minutes away,” she answered, realizing she needed a fresh bag of flour, but not wanting to take her eyes off him as he gazed beyond her, lost in his thoughts. “Do you miss it?”

He nodded, shaking himself free of his memories. “Yes, very much. But if it’s still there after five hundred years, it’ll still be there when we get some free time.” He stepped away from her, all business. “Tell me what to do.”

She appreciated his devotion to her shop, even if it was enforced by the curse. His willingness to give up something he so clearly wanted in order to help her, made her heart do that disturbing flutter again. She wanted to show him how grateful she was to him for going along with her without raging or complaining, but there was an order that had to be filled. Her first big corporate order, she couldn’t screw it up.

“I need a new bag of flour.”

She pointed to the pantry and set about measuring out the other ingredients for her half of the cupcakes. A few seconds later Erik swore loudly, then coughed violently, and she turned to see him surrounded by a cloud of flour. It clung to his shirt and arms, and he was surrounded by a halo of it as it floated around him to the floor.

“What did you do?” she asked, barely containing her laughter at the white mask that settled across his face.

“It attacked me when I opened it,” he said indignantly, caught up in a coughing fit again.

She saw the way the bag was torn, and realized he must have roughly pulled it apart or squeezed it, causing it to explode on him. She laughed, wishing she had seen it happen.

“You don’t know your own strength,” she said, unable to stop laughing even after the dark scowl he gave her. He wasn’t the least intimidating with flour streaked all over his face.

“This isn’t funny,” he said, trying to wipe it off, but only making it worse.

“It’s pretty funny,” she said, backing away. “Are you sure you aren’t a ghost?” she asked, doubling over when he sneezed and a cloud of it poofed everywhere.

His face turned deadly serious and she clapped her hand over her mouth to try and stop giggling. He reached his hand toward the ripped bag and she shook her head, racing around the other side of the counter.

“Don’t you even—” before she could get the command out, a huge fistful of flour hit her square in the face.