SPICED UP

THE PACT
BOOK 1

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KATE HUNT

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 Copyright © 2023 by Kate Hunt

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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 CONTENTS

1. Wyatt
2. Macy
3. Wyatt
4. Macy
5. Wyatt
6. Macy
7. Wyatt
8. Macy

About the Author

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 1

WYATT

“Well?” my brother Mason asks, looking at me hopefully across our table at

the Frost & Fire. “What do you think, man? Are you in?”
He isn’t the only one waiting on my answer. My two other brothers, Chase
and Sean, are also looking at me right now, a total of three pairs of eyes that
all share the same blue. But Chase’s distracted expression tells me his
thoughts are mostly elsewhere, and Sean is looking at me with imploring
eyes that say, dude, if you’re not in, I’m backing out too.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Who would I even ask?”
Mason grins and shrugs. “Finding someone is part of the fun of it.”
“And where the hell am I going to find someone?” I ask. “I’m not
downloading some stupid app on my phone.”
“So find someone in person. Come on, Wyatt. I bet a ton of nice, pretty
women come into your business every day. All you need to do is turn on the
charm.”
All three of my brothers chuckle at that. I’m a lot of things, but charming
isn’t one of them.
I sigh, still thinking it over. I don’t want to agree to the pact that Mason just
proposed, but even I have to admit that his reason for suggesting it is valid.
This year has been a rough one, with our mom going through treatment for
cancer, and I’m in full agreement that we should make this Christmas as
special as possible for her.
I’m just not convinced that Mason’s idea is the way to go about it.
“Can’t we do something else?” I say. “Hire some carolers to come by
during the party or something?”
“Is that even a service you can hire?” Sean asks skeptically.
“You can hire people to do anything these days,” Chase says, then checks
his watch. At the same time, our server comes over to ask if we need
anything else or if we’re ready for the bill.
“The bill would be great, thanks,” Mason tells her.
As our server walks away, Mason gives me a meaningful look. “She’s
pretty, right? You could ask her.”
This is one of many differences between Mason and myself: he thinks that
anything is possible, while I stick to being realistic. Even if I could turn on
some charm and chat up our server, I doubt she would go for it. I’ve gotta
be more than a decade older than her. I’d just be the pathetic thirty-nine-
year-old hitting on the young, pretty waitress.
“Look, just say yes, man,” Mason says. “It’ll be good for you to get out
there in the dating world. And you know how happy it will make Mom
when the four of us show up with plus-ones.”
As resistant as I am to this stupid pact, my brother is right. Our mom has
always dreamed of having four daughters-in-law and a plethora of
grandchildren. And despite there being four of us Reynolds brothers, we
haven’t given her any of that yet. I’m not about to get married or have a kid
just to make our mom happy, but the four of us bringing dates to our
parents’ annual Christmas party will thrill our mom. There’s no doubt about
that.
And even though Mom has been doing well with her treatment and the
doctors are optimistic about a full recovery, you never know. As gut-
wrenching as it is to think about, there’s a chance that this could be our last
Christmas with her.
“Okay, fine,” I say with an exhale. “I’m in.”
“Sweet,” Mason says, beaming. He picks up his almost-empty pint glass
and holds it above the middle of the table. “Here’s to finding the women of
our dreams.”
I don’t know about the of our dreams part, but I raise my glass and clink it
against my brothers’ glasses.
The four of us are walking out to our cars when Chase asks me if things are
crazy busy at the shop yet. I shrug as I pull my car keys out.
“Not quite, but it’s ramping up,” I tell him.
“You’ve got Macy helping you out, though, right?”
Macy is the daughter of some family friends of ours. Our parents and her
parents have been good friends for decades. Macy’s work recently had
layoffs, and I agreed to hire her for seasonal help at the pack-and-ship.
“Her first day’s tomorrow,” I say.
“Ah, gotcha,” says Chase. “Well, I hope that goes well.”
I shake my keys in my hand. “Yeah. I sure hope she’s competent.”
Chase laughs. “I’m sure she will be. Didn’t she go to college on a full-ride
academic scholarship?”
“I have no idea.”
“Pretty sure Mom said that about her. But maybe I’m getting her mixed up
with someone else.” Chase claps me on the back. “All right, bro. See you
later. And don’t worry too much about the pact thing. I’m sure it will work
out somehow.”

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 2

MACY

I show up at the pack-and-ship ten minutes early. Wyatt told me via text to
be here at eight a.m., but it’s important to me to make a good first
impression.
Not that this is my first time meeting Wyatt—he’s the oldest of the four
Reynolds boys, and our parents have all been friends for years—but this
will be my first time seeing him in a long time. And it’s not like we’ve ever
really gotten to know each other.
A truck pulls into one of the angle-in parking spaces in front of the shop, its
engine low and grumbling as it eases into the space.
Is that him?
Yeah. That’s definitely him. Wow—he’s gotten huskier since I last saw him.
He looks more serious, too. There’s something about his downturned lips
that makes me think that’s just his everyday expression.
“Good morning!” I call, smiling as he walks around the front of his truck
and comes toward the shop. My grip tightens around the to-go coffee cups
in my hands as I get a better look at him. Damn, has he always been this
attractive? Those eyes. That jaw. Clearing my throat, I hold out one of the
coffee cups. “This is for you. It’s just a little way of saying thank you for
hiring me.”
“Hold on.” Wyatt unlocks his shop, steps inside, and holds the door open
for me. I gratefully step inside, glad to get out of the cold. I wait for him to
pocket his keys before holding out the coffee toward him again.
“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Wyatt takes it, frowns at the festive pattern on the cup,
then lifts it to his mouth. One sip later, his eyebrows are knit together and
he’s making a disgusted face. “What the hell is this?”
“Pumpkin spice latte,” I say.
“Right…” He holds the cup out to me. “Thanks, but you can have mine.”
Well, shit. So much for making a good first impression. I should have
known he wouldn’t like a drink like this.
“Not a fan, huh?” I say, smiling in an attempt to keep things light. “Sorry
about that.”
He ignores my apology, gesturing a large hand toward a door along the back
wall. “You can set your things in the office back there. Go put your stuff
down and then I’ll show you the ropes.”
I nod and head that way. The back office is a small, tidy room with barely
enough space for a desk and one metal shelf. I set down my bag, then
unbutton my winter coat and drape it over the back of his desk chair, since
there’s nowhere else to hang it. After taking a second to smooth down my
sweater and make sure there’s not a bunch of cat hair on it—I swear,
Peppermint sheds more than any other cat on earth—I return to the main
part of the shop.
“I’ll show you how to operate the register first,” Wyatt says. He doesn’t
even glance at me as I join him behind the counter. As I watch him go
through all the buttons and functions of the cash register, I’m focused on
committing it all to memory. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who has
much patience for repeating himself.
“That’s it,” he says. “Questions?”
“I think you actually missed this button,” I say, and lean forward to point
out which one I mean. As I lean in, the side of my breast accidentally
brushes his arm. My breath hitches at the brief moment of inappropriate
contact.
Shit. Do I apologize? Or do I act like that didn’t just happen?
“That’s the receipt toggle button,” Wyatt says flatly.
“Okay, great,” I say quickly.
Without another beat, he transitions into showing me around the rest of the
shop. I couldn’t feel more relieved that he’s choosing to ignore the fact that
my boob just touched his arm. Or maybe he didn’t notice? Is that possible?
No, any guy would definitely notice a boob touching his arm.
For the next half hour, I follow Wyatt around as he shows me the packing
supplies, the shredding machine, the copier, and the rest of the shop. It’s a
lot of information to soak in all at once, but I feel confident that I can
handle it.
“Do you offer gift wrapping as a service?” I ask.
Wyatt shakes his head.
“I bet people would love that, especially this time of year,” I say.
“Well, I don’t offer it.”
Sheesh, this guy is so serious. I wonder when he last laughed. It really
seems like he could use some lightheartedness and joy in his life.
And I bet he’d be even more attractive if he smiled…
Yikes. I need to stop drooling over my boss. I glance over at the shop’s
large front windows, which are about as plain as can be. “Have you ever
thought about putting up some holiday decorations, Wyatt? I think that
would look really nice. You have great windows for it.”
“Nope,” he says simply, and starts walking away. “I’ve got some boxes to
unpack. Customers will start showing up soon.”
A few minutes later, the first customer of the day comes in. It’s a young
mother with her toddler son in tow. She pulls out several gifts from a
shopping bag and tells me she needs to mail them to three different
locations.
“You don’t offer gift wrapping, do you?” she asks me, looking hopeful.
“I’m so sorry, but unfortunately we don’t,” I say. “But I’ll pack these up as
nicely as I can.”
“Thank you so much.” She glances over her shoulder and sees her son
playing with the rolls of tape that are for sale. “Jojo! No, honey. Leave
those alone!”
“It’s okay, I’ll pick them up afterward,” I say as I grab some shipping
boxes. “He’s adorable, by the way. How old is he?”
“Two,” the woman says, sighing. “Thank you. He is adorable. But such a
handful, too.”
Wyatt comes over as I’m finishing up with the customer. After the woman
and her son leave, Wyatt asks, “Everything go smoothly?”
“Yep,” I say. “Smooth as butter. For what it’s worth, though, she was
interested in gift wrapping.”
“Yeah, well.” Wyatt gives me a mildly exasperated look.
I smile. “Just mentioning it, that’s all.”
The rest of my first day continues without incident. I help more customers,
and I don’t bring up the gift wrapping thing with Wyatt again. But I secretly
keep a mental tally of all the times that I think a customer would take
advantage of such a service, and at the end of the workday, when I’m
tidying up things behind the counter, it feels like fate when I come across
what I’m pretty sure is a spare key to the shop.
Feeling delightfully mischievous, I pocket the key.
Then my first day at the pack-and-ship is over, and I’m wishing Wyatt a
nice evening as I button up my coat. He barely glances at me as he says
goodnight. I show myself out and start walking toward my car…but then
keep going, walking another block and a half further until I reach the craft
store, which is still open for another hour.
A smile spreads across my lips as I look at the colorful window display full
of cheerful holiday crafts and decor.
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 3

WYATT

I notice it the second I turn my truck onto Main Street.

The twinkling string lights. The tinsel. The snowflake decals. The wrapped
gift boxes stacked on top of puffy fake snow.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath. My foot slams down hard on
the brake as I swerve into my usual parking spot, bringing the monstrosity
into full view.
How the hell did she…?
I slam shut the door of my truck and march up to the front windows of my
shop. Up close, it’s even worse than I thought. There’s a whole goddamn
miniature Christmas village set up amid the fake snow and wrapped gift
boxes. Dozens of tiny figurines populate the village, all dressed up in
scarves and mittens, with ridiculous smiles frozen on their faces.
Above them, a tiny ruddy-faced Santa Claus is suspended in the air, his
sleigh pulled by nine determined-looking reindeer.
I grab the handle of the front door of my shop and throw it open, refusing to
even glance at the pinecone-laden wreath that’s hanging on the door. The
sound of Christmas music assaults my ears as I step inside. It smells like a
damn tree lot in here.
My eyes dart around the space, searching for the perpetrator of all this
madness. There’s no sign of her. Then—
“Oh, you’re here!” Macy says, coming out of the back office. She smiles
brightly at me. “Well? What do you think of the decorations?”
I’m so flummoxed by what she’s done that I can’t even find the words to
express myself. But that’s not the only thing that’s gotten me tongue-tied.
One eyeful of her and I’m a man incapacitated by lust.
The dress she has on today is holly red and hugs not only her ridiculously
perfect tits but also her lushly big hips. There’s even a fucking bow on the
front, right at the base of the scoop neckline. And beneath the short hem of
her dress, she’s got on black sparkly tights. Does she know that it looks like
she’s wrapped herself up as a gift for me?
Yesterday, when she brushed up against my arm, I could tell it was a
mistake. I heard her draw in a little surprised breath and felt her freeze
beside me. I knew the best thing to do in that moment was to pretend like it
never happened, to pretend like it didn’t turn me on.
But there’s no chance in hell I can pretend not to be turned on by the getup
she has on right now.
It’s not just the dress, either. It’s all of her. It’s the way her honey brown
eyes are looking at me so hopefully. It’s the way she’s biting her bottom lip
ever so subtly. Yesterday I had to keep my eyes off her as much as possible
because whenever I looked directly at her all I could think about was how
pretty she was. Today, that prettiness is ramped up to eleven.
“Take it down,” I snarl.
Macy’s face drops. Her pretty lips turn down. Her eyes lose their luster.
“You don’t like it?” she asks.
“Take it down,” I repeat.
But she doesn’t move. Her expression turning curious, she says, “Why do
you hate Christmas so much?”
“I don’t hate Christmas.”
“Okay. Let me rephrase that. Why are you so grumpy about holiday cheer?”
“This isn’t the place for it,” I say sharply. “This is a pack-and-ship business.
It doesn’t need to have anything to do with the holidays.”
Macy laughs. “What? Your customers are all coming in here to mail gifts to
their loved ones! It has everything to do with the holidays.”
“What I mean is that I don’t need all of that—” I wave a hand toward the
window display. “Stuff. And why the hell does it smell like a tree lot in
here?”
“It’s the candle.” She gestures to a large, multi-wick candle that I somehow
didn’t notice sitting on the counter.
I step forward, blow out the flames with one hard breath, and maneuver my
way past her on the way to my office.
“Take it all down!” I yell again before slamming the door behind me.
Inside my office, I’m too worked up to do anything but pace, which only
irritates me more because there’s almost no room to do so. I’m a roiling
mess of annoyance and indignation and fucked-up arousal.
The worst part is that the last of those emotions is the most potent. The
brute within me wants to get her in here, bend her over my desk, and rip
those sparkly tights off her round ass. I want to punish her but also fuck her
with the sole purpose of making her come.
What is wrong with me? Why am I so wildly attracted to her? And why do I
care so much about the stupid decorations?
I sit against the edge of my desk and scrub a hand over my face. I need to
calm down. Yes, she did something I didn’t like. Yes, she’s a beautiful
woman. But my reaction to both of those things has been entirely out of
proportion.
Feeling more in control now, I push myself up and open the door to my
office. When I step out, I see Macy helping a customer at the counter.
They’re both chatting and smiling, and Macy is gift-wrapping something
for the customer with snowmen-covered wrapping paper. I stand back and
watch as she carefully packs the gift in a shipping box and adds some red
tissue paper on top.
After the customer leaves, I walk up to Macy. She looks at me with careful
eyes.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” I say.
“I’m sorry for not asking permission to decorate,” she says.
“Look,” I say, sighing. “You don’t have to take all the decorations down.
But I don’t want that candle burning in here. It’ll give me a goddamn
headache.”
“Fair enough.”
I drop my gaze to all the gift-wrapping supplies that she’s got set out.
“You’re charging the customers for this, right?”
“Yes. I do have some business sense, you know.” She points to a small sign
she evidently made by hand. “There are different rates depending on the
size of the item.”
Surprisingly, the rates are exactly what I would have made them if I’d been
pricing a service like this. Or maybe it’s not surprising. I don’t know. What
does it matter if we think alike about one dumb tiny thing?
“Fine,” I say. “But if it slows things down too much, I’m nixing it.”
Macy gives me a little smile, a mixture of victory and amusement on her
face. “You’re the boss, Wyatt.”

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 4

MACY

My hands are steady as I grip the bag of icing, one hand applying slow
pressure to the end of the bag while my other hand guides the tip over the
top of the cake. I’ve never done this before, but I think it’s actually turning
out pretty decent. All I have to do is finish the last few letters…and…there
we go.
I straighten up and look at the final result. Happy 40 th Birthday, Wyatt.
Nice. I think it turned out well.
It’s been a week since I started working at the pack-and-ship. Wyatt hasn’t
yelled at me for anything since the decoration debacle, but he hasn’t
warmed up to me, either. At best it feels like he’s tolerating me; at worst, he
completely ignores my existence.
I know he’s technically my boss and it shouldn’t matter if he likes me, but
the thing is, he isn’t just my boss. He’s a family friend, and we’re going to
have a continued presence in each other’s lives, even if we don’t see each
other very often after I eventually move on from this job. I really want us to
have a friendly relationship.
Okay, fine. I have a crush on him, too. A tiny, ridiculous, sparkly little
crush. But that’s not the main reason I’m baking this cake. I swear it isn’t.
A few days ago, when I was having dinner at my parents’ house, I told them
about how I was struggling with breaking the ice with Wyatt, and asked
them if they had any suggestions about ways to connect with him. My mom
told me that she was pretty sure Wyatt’s birthday was this week, and after
looking it up on her phone and confirming the date, I knew I had my
answer.
If this cake doesn’t put a smile on that serious face of his, I don’t know
what will.

“Huh,” says Wyatt, staring at the cake in my hands. “That’s…wow. Okay.

Uh, thanks.”
It’s eight a.m. and I’ve just arrived at the pack-and-ship, my hands full of
cake and my heart full of hope. And so when his reaction isn’t what I
expect, it feels like a punch to the gut.
“It is your birthday, right?” I ask.
Wyatt nods.
“And it is your fortieth, right?”
He sighs. “Yup.”
I pause. “Do you not like chocolate cake?”
“I like chocolate cake.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I said thanks.”
Is he serious right now? That’s all the reaction he’s going to give me? I just
don’t get this man.
“Okay, I guess I’ll just put it in your office,” I say, feeling a little
heartbroken.
“That’s fine,” he says.
Frustrated, I bring the cake into his office and set it down, putting it right
smack in the middle of his desk so he can’t ignore it when he comes in here
later. Then I take off my coat, smooth down my top and my skirt, and walk
back out with my head held high.
He might not appreciate the time and effort that goes into making a
homemade cake, but I’m not going to let that faze me.
The day proceeds like any other day. Well, except for the fact that beneath
my smiling exterior with the customers, I’m silently simmering inside.
Because as hard as I’ve tried to let Wyatt’s behavior not affect me, I’m
human. And the cake is part of a bigger issue between us.
By the time we close up for the day, I can’t take it anymore. When Wyatt
walks into his office, I follow him in and finally confront him.
“Do you have a problem with me or something?” I demand.
Wyatt looks at me with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You barely acknowledge me, and you always seem unhappy with
everything I do. If I’m doing something wrong as your employee, I’d
appreciate being told so, so that I can fix it.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Are you still mad about the holiday decorations?”
“No.”
“Then what is the issue?” I ask, exasperated.
“There’s no issue, Macy.”
“Yes, there is!” I’m so frustrated right now, I feel like I’m going out of my
mind. “God! Why are you like this? What is wrong with you?”
Too late, I realize I’ve crossed a line.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Wyatt growls, and takes a step toward
me. He towers over me, his large physique dwarfing mine. When he lifts an
arm to point toward the office door, the thick muscles in his arm flex in my
peripheral vision. “Get out. You’re fired.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“I’m done with you.”
“But—no, Wyatt, please. I’m so sorry I implied there was anything wrong
with you. I only said that out of frustration. I didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t care. Get out.”
“Please. Give me a second chance. I’m sincerely sorry.”
“No. Out.”
I look deeply into his eyes, desperate for him to forgive me. Can’t he see
how truly sorry I am?
“Wyatt,” I say softly.
Nothing in his expression changes. He continues to point toward the door,
silently waiting for me to leave. I guess that’s really it. I fucked up, and now
it’s over. Not only did I just throw away my job but now things are probably
going to be weird and tense between our families. Fantastic.
I can’t look at him anymore. Turning away, I grab my coat and my bag.
Then I start toward the office door, even though I don’t want to leave.
Wait. You know what? I’m taking the damn cake with me.
I turn on my heels and walk right past Wyatt on my way to his desk. He
looks confused until he sees me reaching for the cake.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“Taking the cake. You obviously don’t want it.”
My hands are almost on it when he intercepts me. With one abrupt,
powerful move, he steps between me and the cake. Surprised, I quickly
move away, and end up with my back up against the wall. He moves
forward and cages me in, towering over me as he splays his palms on the
wall behind me.

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 5

WYATT

I know I should just let her go. It’s dangerous, having her around. She might
be making the customers happy with her cheery attitude and unnecessarily
ornate gift wrapping, but she’s made my days pure torture since she showed
up at my shop’s front door.
And yet I’m also desperate for her to stay.
“Why did you make it for me?” I ask, my voice low and demanding. I’m
being overly cautious not to touch her, but there’s barely any space between
us. Fuck, I can even smell her shampoo. Smells like Christmas, of course.
“The cake?” she asks, blinking at me. “I made it because it’s your birthday.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“I wanted you to like me.”
Something pulses inside me. “You wanted me to like you,” I echo.
She nods and crosses her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Oh, but your actions speak loudly, Wyatt. You’ve barely spoken to me
since I started working here! And whenever you do acknowledge me,
there’s always this look of…I don’t know, exasperation or something on
your face. I don’t know what’s so horrible about me that—”
My lips cut her off mid-sentence, pressing against her little mouth with
hopeless need. I only get a tiny taste of her before she pulls her lips away.
“Oh my God,” she murmurs, staring at me wide-eyed.
My stomach churns with instant regret. What the hell was I thinking,
kissing her like that? I’m a monster. She’s my employee. A family friend.
And definitely too young for me. What is she, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, pushing myself off the wall and taking a step away to
give her space. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong of me.”
But then she closes the space between us again. She steps forward, rises up
on her toes, and—to my amazement—presses her lips against mine.
I grab Macy’s arm and tear her away from me. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” she says, blinking at me in confusion. “Isn’t that what you
want?”
Fuck. “Don’t kiss someone just because it’s what they want, Macy.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She looks at me defiantly. “Besides, I want it
too.”
This time, when I kiss her, I’m unapologetic about it. I cage her in against
the wall again, close my mouth over hers, and kiss her deeply, drawing a
moan from her throat.
Fuck, that moan. My cock is already hard by then, but it’s the moan that
sends me over the edge. It’s the moan that drives me to reach under the hem
of her skirt and push my fingers into her panties and find her slick, swollen
clit.
Macy gasps against my lips as I stroke her, and as my fingers become
coated in her juices, I feel her hands hasten to my fly. Fumbling with it at
first, she finally gets me unzipped and pulls out my cock.
I tear her panties down and hitch her up against the wall, wrapping her thick
legs around me. Reaching between us, I wrap a fist around my rigid cock
and nestle it against her warm, wet pussy. As soon as I start to push into her,
I can tell that her perfect little cunt has never been touched, let alone
fucked, by a man before. Groaning from the tightness of her, I sink into her
slowly.
“Holy shit,” Macy whimpers. She clings to me as I give her another inch of
my cock. As tight as she is, her body is so open for me, so needy and hot
and turned on. I sink the rest of my cock into her and almost feel like I
could come from just this one slow stroke.
But I don’t. I need more than that. And I need her to come first. Keeping
one hand supporting her, I reach down with my other hand and start playing
with her clit as I slide my cock out and back in. Out and in. Out and in. Out
and in.
“Good girl,” I grunt, my ass clenching as I pump harder into her. “You’re
doing so well for your first time.”
Macy’s cheeks are rosy pink as she meets my eyes. “It feels so good,
Wyatt.”
“Do you want me to come inside you?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that, sweetheart? You sure you want a pussy full of cum?”
“Yes. Please, Wyatt. I want it so bad.”
“You need to come first. Then I’ll give you what you want.”
“I’m close. Oh, God. I’m really close.”
“That’s it. Good girl. You can do it.”
“Oh my God. Wyatt! Fuck!”
Her pussy squeezes around my cock as she cries out with pleasure, her
whole body shaking against me. Her fingers dig into my shoulders and her
hard little nipples ache against the fabric of her top as she comes. I want to
tear the goddamn clothes off her so I can see every glorious inch of her
wildly curvy body. I want to do so many filthy things to her that it feels like
my head is going to explode. Instead, I explode in a different way, pumping
cum into her with my remaining strokes, taking her innocence and marking
her as mine.

Later, as I’m sitting around the dinner table with my parents and brothers, I
can’t get that moment with Macy out of my head. I’m not the same man that
I was this morning. Everything feels different. I don’t understand how this
is possible, or what it means, but I do know that nothing is ever going to be
the same.
“Well, Wyatt?” Chase asks, grinning at me from across the table. “How
does it feel being forty, old man?”
I smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Nah, I’m going to stay in my thirties for a long, long time,” he says.
“I knew it,” Mason says from a few seats away. “You’ve been getting fillers,
haven’t you, Chase?”
Chase chucks a dinner roll at Mason, but it bounces and lands in the middle
of the table. Our mom sighs and shakes her head. Meanwhile, our dad
ignores it all and focuses on cutting off a bite of his steak before looking
over at me.
“How are things working out with Macy, son?” he asks.
It’s a simple question, but the answer is more complicated than I know how
to deal with. Hell, I don’t even know how to answer that question to myself.
“She’s fine,” I say, reaching for my water glass.
“Her folks sure do appreciate you hiring her,” my dad says. “I know the
intention was for it to be temporary, but who knows? Maybe it’ll work out
and you’ll keep her around.”

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 6

MACY

My heart skips a beat when I see Wyatt’s name show up on my phone. It

takes another ring before I work up the nerve to answer the call.
“Macy? Where are you?” Wyatt asks, his voice deep and tinged with worry.
I glance at the clock on my stove. It’s eight-thirty in the morning. I barely
slept last night, so time feels all messed up for me right now. “I’m at
home.”
“Aren’t you coming into work today?”
I pause. “Um…you fired me, remember?”
“I didn’t mean it. I was just worked up in that moment.”
It would have been nice if he had clarified that yesterday. “Okay…well,
even so. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea if I come in.”
“Why? Are you not feeling well?” His voice sounds even more protectively
worried now.
“Um…Wyatt? You do remember what happened yesterday, right?” As
thoughts of him taking my virginity up against his office wall replay in my
mind, my cheeks burn with heat. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about
how some of his cum is probably still inside me. I’m sore, overwhelmed,
and longing for more.
“What?” he says. “Of course I remember. I haven’t been able to think
straight since yesterday.” He pauses. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “I don’t know what to think. I’m having a lot of
confusing feelings right now.”
“Then come in and let’s talk about it.”
“I don’t think we should have that kind of conversation at your shop.”
He exhales a gentle sigh. “Okay. Let’s talk later, then. Can I come over to
your place tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll text you my address.”
“All right. I’ll be there after I close up the shop.”
“Wait—Wyatt, are you going to be okay if I don’t come into work? It was
really busy yesterday.”
“I’ll be fine.” He pauses. “I’m not messing with that gift wrapping stuff,
though.”
I smile. “Fair enough.”

He shows up a little after six o’clock, looking tired from the workday and
what I’m guessing was probably not a very good night of sleep last night.
It’s so nice to see him, but I also feel jittery as I welcome him into my
home. The rental I live in is small and there aren’t many places to sit, so we
end up standing in the kitchen. Peppermint weaves around his legs, and he
gives her a few scratches on the head before she runs off to use her
scratching post.
I don’t know how to act around Wyatt now. The last time I saw him, he was
deep inside of me and talking dirty to me. It felt so good in the moment, but
now it feels kind of insane that we let ourselves give in to our desires like
that. There’s nothing about us that makes sense as a couple. He’s a decade
older than me. He’s a family friend. What do we even know about each
other? Practically nothing.
And yet, as he stands here in my kitchen, I’m full of fresh longing for him,
too. On a purely physical level, he really is the most attractive man I’ve
ever known—tall, broad, beautiful-eyed, and a bit scruffy. But I’m also
inexplicably drawn to him as a person, too. Prickliness and all.
“So do you regret yesterday?” he asks, studying me with careful eyes.
“No,” I say. “But I’m worried I might end up regretting it, if that makes
sense. Like if it ends up messing everything up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…what if it’s really awkward anytime we see each other now? Or
what if…” I swallow. “What if you got me pregnant?”
“Easy. I’ll take care of you and our baby.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“I said I’ll take care of you and our baby.”
“I heard you. I’m just—” I laugh with disbelief. “Wyatt, we barely know
each other.”
“I know. We need to work on that.” He knits his brows and wets his lips. “Is
it okay if we sit down?”
“Um…yeah. Sure. We can go into my living room. Do you want something
to drink?”
“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
On reflex, I almost grab some wine out of my fridge, but then I remember
the whole might-be-pregnant thing and decide to make us some tea instead.
When I bring the mugs into the living room, Wyatt is sitting on my couch,
idly flipping through one of the books I’m reading.
It’s funny how at home he looks.
“Is this any good?” he asks, meaning the book he’s flipping through.
I nod as I set down our mugs of tea. “It is. I didn’t know much about
Coretta Scott King, so it’s been super fascinating learning about her. I can
lend it to you when I’m done, if you’re interested. Do you read much?”
“A fair amount.”
“Oh? What are some of your favorite books?”
And just like that, we fall into natural conversation. Talking about our
favorite books transitions into talking about our favorite movies, which
leads into a lengthy but amusing debate about which Bond villain is best.
(Wyatt says Goldfinger because “he’s the most iconic.” I argue for Elektra
King and have about a million reasons to back up my choice.) And then
Wyatt starts talking about the movie nights that he and his brothers used to
have when they were growing up, and I’m so interested in hearing about his
relationship with his brothers that I keep asking him questions about what it
was like to grow up in a house like that.
“I wish I had siblings,” I say with a soft exhale. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m
grateful for the family I have, and I’m close to some of my cousins, but it’s
not the same.”
“Nah, you lucked out,” Wyatt says. “Brothers are a pain in the ass.”
“Wyatt! That’s awful.”
He chuckles. “I’m only kidding.”
“Good. You better be.” I smile at him, realizing how cozy and happy I feel
right now. “It’s nice to hear about your life.”
“I like hearing about yours, too.”
A yawn sneaks up on me, and I cover my mouth as it escapes. “Gosh.
Excuse me.”
“I should go and let you get some rest,” Wyatt says. “I’m exhausted, too.”
“Do you feel okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll roll the window down. It’ll keep me awake.”
I frown at him. “If you’re that tired, you shouldn’t drive.”
“What are you suggesting, then? You want me to sleep over?”
“Only for safety’s sake.”
“Right,” says Wyatt. “For safety’s sake.”
“I’m being serious.” I blush a little. “I’m still sore from yesterday.”
Wyatt frowns. “Did I hurt you, baby?”
My heart thrums at him calling me that. “No. I’m just not used to it yet.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.” He leans in and brushes his lips against
mine, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth. “Is it okay if I do this?”
“Very.”
“What about this?” he asks, stroking his thumb over my thigh.
His touch sends sparks of desire through me. “That’s good, too.”
“Can I taste you, honey?”
“If you insist.”
“I insist.” His fingers tease the inside of my thighs before moving up to my
waistband. I lift up my hips and he slides my yoga pants and my panties off
at the same time. Then he kneels on the carpet, settles his large self between
my legs, and slowly kisses his way up my thighs.
I gasp as he closes his mouth over my clit. I’ve tried imagining what this
might feel like, but in reality it’s so good that it’s indescribable. I clench the
pillow cushion as Wyatt hungrily sucks and licks my clit. Every time he
groans, it makes my body flush with heat.
“You taste incredible, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his words warm and
vibrating. “I could eat your pussy all night long.”
It doesn’t take me long to come. It’s a different kind of orgasm than when
we had sex yesterday—more luxurious, and more intimate in a way. And
afterward, as Wyatt and I cuddle up together on the couch and talk in soft
hushed tones, both giving into our drowsiness, I feel a warmth bloom in my
heart unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
OceanofPDF.com
 7

WYATT

I think I’m in love.

That’s crazy, right? People don’t fall in love this fast.
Or, hell. Maybe they do. Otherwise love at first sight wouldn’t be a saying.
I kiss Macy’s forehead, and she stirs as she wakes up. We fell asleep out
here on her couch last night, and I held her all night long. Now, as she
wakes up, she lets out an adorable yawn.
“Morning,” she says, giving me a sleepy smile.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“Mmm. You’re sweet.” She sits up and stretches her arms wide. “Are you
hungry? I’ll make us breakfast.”
I tend to stick to a simple breakfast, like a quick bowl of oatmeal or a
couple fried eggs. So when Macy starts making French toast, it feels pretty
fucking special. And it’s not just any old French toast. She drizzles warm
maple syrup over it, adds a flourish of whipped cream from a can, then
sprinkles chopped nuts and powdered sugar over top.
“Damn, Macy,” I say, shaking my head as we sit down to eat. “Look at this.
It’s a work of art.”
She laughs and takes a sip of coffee. “Try a bite and tell me what you
think.”
I shove a bite into my mouth, already knowing I’m going to like it. What I
don’t expect are the spices she used.
“Is this…pumpkin flavored?” I ask.
Macy grins. “Pumpkin spice. Do you hate it?”
“No, it’s actually really good.” I take another big bite. “Mmm. Yeah. It’s
fucking delicious.”
Macy looks pleased. But then her expression shifts again, and she says,
“Promise you’ll tell me if you ever don’t like something I make, okay?”
I nod, my mouth too full to answer. I like that she’s already talking about
our future. Because as far as I’m concerned, she is my future. I don’t know
how quickly all of this might unfold, but it’s not difficult to imagine us as
husband and wife. We’ll run the pack-and-ship together, we’ll build a home
together, we’ll make babies together…
Jesus. I can’t believe I’m thinking like this. I’ve never had thoughts like this
before.
But I guess when the right woman comes into your life, it flips your world
upside down.
After we finish eating breakfast, Macy tells me I’m welcome to grab a
shower before she does. I ask if she wants to join me, but she gets a shy
look on her face and repeats what she says about me taking a shower first.
I’m still thinking about that shy look as we both get ready and as I drive us
into work.
Is she self-conscious about her body? Is that why she didn’t want to shower
together? If that’s the case, I’m going to make sure she knows exactly how
much her figure turns me on. I fucking love that she has big hips and a
belly. It’s so damn sexy.
Yep. Tonight I’m going to make sure she knows exactly how I feel.
My thoughts of tonight vanish as soon as I turn onto Main Street. I blink,
making sure I’m not seeing things. Beside me, in the passenger seat, Macy
gasps.
“Oh my God,” she says. “Wyatt…who would do something like this?”
Anger sears through my veins as I pull my truck into my usual parking spot
and get a better look at the vandalism on the front windows of my shop.
And it’s not just my shop. It’s on every storefront on the block.
I throw open the door of my truck and get out. This early in the morning,
there aren’t many people around, but those who are around are all looking
at the damage that’s been done to the heart of our small town. What the
fuck is the point of something like this? Whoever did it should be glad I
didn’t catch them in the act.
“I’m so sorry, Wyatt,” Macy says, touching my arm. “This is unbelievable.”
She looks around at the other vandalized storefronts and shakes her head. “I
don’t even know what to say. What can I do to help?”
“We need cleaning supplies,” I say, grasping for logic through my anger.
After getting a bucket, soap, and sponges, we get to work on scrubbing off
the spray paint from the shop’s front windows. There’s a lot to clean up, but
it slowly comes off. As soon as we’ve finished with our windows, I look
around and see who else needs help.
“I’m going to go help them over at the bookstore,” I tell Macy, seeing that
they’re struggling with taping up a broken window. “You mind staying here
and running the shop?”
“Not at all,” she says. “Come get me if you need an extra hand, okay?”
We part ways for the time being, and when I approach the bookstore owners
and offer my help, they gratefully accept. They’ve got a ladder set up and
some cardboard collected to temporarily cover up the broken window. As I
step up on the ladder, I can tell it’s not the sturdiest thing, especially not
under my kind of weight, but as long as I’m careful it should be okay.
Working together, we get the sides and the lower edge of the cardboard
taped down. But I’m the only one who can reach the top edge. I get the
closest part of it taped down, then tear off another length of duct tape and
reach out to secure the next section.
I know I should climb down the ladder and move it over to finish the rest.
It’s a stupid mistake, leaning over so far. But in that moment, I’m wholly
focused on getting the last piece of tape down.
I feel the ladder tip as I’m smoothing my hand over the tape. One second
everything’s fine, and the next, it’s like the earth has been torn out from
beneath me. Muttering a curse under my breath, I fall.

“Any change?”
“No.”
“Here, Mom. Take this chair. You should sit down.”
“I’m okay, son.”
“God, those stitches look intense.”
I groan as I emerge from unconsciousness, the voices around me both
familiar and confusing. As I blink my eyes open, it takes a while for my
vision to come into focus. But, finally, I’m able to make out my
surroundings: the hospital bed, the concerned faces of my family crowded
around me, the muted television set on the wall that’s playing some kind of
Christmas movie.
“Wyatt!” my mother’s voice is full of relief as she reaches out and squeezes
my hand. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“What day is it?” I ask groggily.
Everyone laughs.
“It’s Wednesday. The same day it was when you fell and bonked your
head,” says Sean. “How long did you think you were out, bud?”
“I dunno,” I mutter. I wince, the pain of my fall becoming more noticeable
as I continue to wake up. As I’m shifting in bed to try to get a little more
comfortable, I hear a pair of familiar footsteps come into the room.
“Is he awake?” a soft voice asks, and then suddenly Macy’s beautiful face is
at my side. Her eyes tear up as she looks at me, and she bends forward to
give me a hug.
“I was so scared, Wyatt,” she whispers in my ear.
“I’m okay, baby,” I murmur.
She slowly pulls out of our hug, but I reach for her and pull her back to me
for a kiss. Right now, it’s the only thing that will give me temporary relief
from my physical pain.
Macy’s cheeks are flushed after I kiss her. She gives me a look that I don’t
immediately understand, but then I notice that all five of my family
members are gaping at me.
“Uh, right,” I say, looking sheepishly back at them. “So…there’s something
I should probably tell you guys…”

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 MACY

OceanofPDF.com
 ONE WEEK LATER

I squint at the pregnancy test in my hands, trying to decide if that’s actually

a second pink line or not. It’s so faint that I feel like my eyes might be
playing tricks on me. Holding the test up to the light coming through
Wyatt’s bathroom window, I squint harder at the results, but I still have no
idea what to make of it.
I thought I’d be more freaked out at the possibility of being pregnant. But I
feel really close to Wyatt now, and I know that if we did have a baby
together, he would be an amazing dad. And I’ve always wanted kids. I
might have imagined it happening differently than this, but why should that
matter?
Okay. This is ridiculous. I’m just going to show the test to Wyatt and see
what he thinks. Taking a breath, I open the bathroom door and walk out into
Wyatt’s living room. He’s kneeling down in front of the Christmas tree,
adjusting the tree stand screws. He wasn’t planning on getting a tree for his
place, but I kept telling him that he had the perfect spot for one, and this
morning he surprised me and asked me if I wanted to go to a tree lot to help
him pick one out.
“Does that look straight?” Wyatt asks me.
“Yep, it looks good from here,” I say.
He finishes tightening the screws and then rises to his full height. Brushing
his hands off on his pants, he looks over at me and smiles. “Guess I’ve gotta
get some decorations now, huh?”
I smile back at him. “I can help with that.”
“Want to go out and do that now?”
“Um…soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about first.”
Wyatt crooks an eyebrow at me. “That sounds serious.”
“Let’s sit down.”
We move to sit down on his couch. I’m holding onto the pregnancy test in
the pocket of my cardigan, secretly hoping that maybe the second line is
more visible now.
“Talk to me, Macy,” Wyatt says, looking at me with protective concern.
I pull out the pregnancy test and unfurl my hand. Nope. It doesn’t look any
different than it did a minute ago. Holding it out to Wyatt, I say, “I don’t
know if this is actually a positive test, but I think there’s a really faint
second line.”
He takes it from me and looks at it for a few quiet moments. Then, lifting
his eyes to meet mine again, he says, “I think I see it, too.”
I chew on my lip, suddenly nervous. I know he already told me that he
would take care of me and the baby if we found ourselves in this situation,
but sometimes people say things and then feel differently when it happens
for real. “So if it is positive…what do you think about that?”
A smile spreads across his lips. “I think it would be incredible.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Do you have another test you can take?”
“No. Just the one.”
“Maybe it’s just faint because it’s so early.” His smile broadens and he leans
over to kiss me. “A baby. Wow.”
“It might not be positive, Wyatt.”
“Then we’ll work on fixing that.” He reaches up and strokes my cheek. “I
love you, Macy. I want to marry you, have kids with you, and grow old with
you.”
My heart is beating in triple-time. “You do?”
He nods. “I know this has all happened incredibly fast, but I don’t care. I
know what I want.”
“I want all of that, too. I love you, too, Wyatt.”
“Do you want me to get your parents’ blessing before asking you to marry
me?” he asks very seriously. “Or can I get down on one knee and propose to
you right now?”
I laugh. I’m so happy right now that I feel like I’m radiating sunshine. “As
much as I’d love to get engaged right this second, I know my mom and dad
would both be moved if you talked to them first.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” He pauses. “You don’t think they’ll say no, do
you?”
I think about my parents’ reaction last week when I told them about being
involved with Wyatt. Their reaction was very similar to the reaction that
Wyatt’s family had—initial shock, a lot of questions, but then acceptance
and congratulations.
“They’ll be thrilled to have you as a son-in-law,” I say confidently.
“I hope they’re just as thrilled to become grandparents soon.”
I bite down on my lip and smile, warmth flowering in my core as I look into
Wyatt’s gorgeously blue eyes. Because he needed to take it easy after his
concussion, we haven’t had sex since before his accident. But he’s back to
his normal self now, and now that I know he’s just as on board with having
a baby as I am, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t give ourselves the
best chances of turning that into a reality.
“I should warn you that twins run in my family,” I say, still smiling.
“Yeah? Good. The more the merrier,” Wyatt says. Then, to my delight, he
stands up, scoops me up into his strong arms, and carries me to his
bedroom. He lays me down on his bed, and undresses me slowly, laying
kisses across my skin as he removes each piece of clothing.
My heart palpitates with nerves as I lay exposed before him, feeling self-
conscious about how big I am. But Wyatt’s eyes are full of nothing but
desire. And when he tugs off his own clothes, the intensity of his erection
helps reassure me that I have nothing to worry about. I spread my thighs
and he settles in between my legs, guiding his gorgeously thick, rigid cock
to my aching pussy.
I let out a moan as he enters me, his cock stretching me out with a
deliciously slow stroke. My nipples pebble and I run my hands up his
sturdy chest, loving how my man can be both dominant and gentle at the
same time.
“You’re so gorgeous, honey,” Wyatt says, his voice husky. “I love every bit
of you.”
I whimper and kiss his neck.
“I can’t wait to see your beautiful belly start growing,” he goes on. “You’re
going to look so fucking radiant.”
I run my hands down to his ass and savor the feeling of him pushing deeply
into me.
“Tell me you’ll always be mine, Macy,” he commands.
“I’ll always be yours.” I draw in a shaky breath, feeling emotion rising in
my throat. “Always. Forever.”
“Good girl.” His strokes become harder, faster. “That’s it. You’re so good at
taking my cock. Now come for me so I can fill you up with my seed.”
I cry out and arch my back as white-hot bliss washes over me. Wyatt spills
into me, groaning my name as he comes. Afterward, we kiss for a long
time, as if we have all the time in the world to stay exactly where we are.
“Still up for Christmas tree decoration shopping?” I ask, grinning at him.
“Would you be mad if I kept you in bed for the rest of the day instead?”
Wyatt asks.
“Hmmm…” I scrunch up my face in mock indecision. “Okay. I guess you
can keep me in bed.”
“I promise we’ll go nuts with the shopping tomorrow.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise, you know.”
“I have no doubt that you will.” He settles back against the pillow beside
me and gets me nuzzled up beside his large body. For a few minutes, we
just lay there together in cozy happy silence. Then, out of nowhere, Wyatt
lets out a laugh.
“What?” I ask, peering up at him.
“Oh, I was just thinking about this pact that my brothers and I made.”
“Pact?”
“Yeah. To all find dates for our parents’ Christmas party this year. It was
Mason’s idea. I figured I wasn’t going to be able to follow through on it, but
now I’m the first one of the four of us to have a date.” He grins. “And not
just a date. But a whole lot more than that.”
I’m very familiar with the party he’s referencing; his parents have thrown it
every year. My parents and I have always gone to it, and this year will be no
exception—although, obviously, it looks like I’ll be showing up as Wyatt’s
fiancé this time.
That’s a lovely thing to think about. Very lovely indeed. But right now my
curiosity is still piqued about this pact that Wyatt just mentioned.
“That’s adorable that you guys made a pact like that,” I say. “You said it
was Mason’s idea?”
Wyatt nods.
“I wonder if he has someone in mind that he wants to ask,” I muse. “As in,
he just needs an excuse to ask her.”
“Huh. Interesting theory.” Wyatt thinks for a second. “I mean, his best
friend’s a girl. But I don’t think there’s anything going on there.”
“Mmm. You never know.” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, which
makes Wyatt burst out laughing.
“That’s it,” he says, rolling me over and pinning my arms above my head.
“I’m getting you pregnant again.”

Thanks so much for reading Spiced Up!

Mason’s story is up next!
Get your copy here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CPB54WCM

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Hunt writes short, sexy, feel-good romances about irresistible men and the curvy heroines they
can’t live without. Kate is married to her high school sweetheart, unapologetically spoils her pets,
and always has a love song stuck in her head.

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