Sweet as You

Welcome to Baby Blue Series!

Five baby-blue-eyed men.

Five women who did not ask for feelings.

Too late—these men fall hard, love louder, and kiss like they’re trying to rewrite your DNA.

💙 This isn’t a fast-paced book. We take the scenic, hands-shaking-from-holding-back route around here. Patience is rewarded, though. 👀 💙

Kathie

I didn’t think I’d ever feel something this orgasmic.

I stared up at the high-rise, taking in the lines of glass and stone, the balconies, the tiny sliver of sky it cut into above. Then my eyes found the corner unit on the fourteenth floor.

A tiny jolt of excitement danced up my spine.

That was mine.

Today, I was moving in on my own.

No assistants, no bodyguards, no interior designers, no frantic messages to my mom about how high a credenza should sit.

And I knew she would’ve come running, all of them would’ve, if I so much as hinted that I needed help.

Mom would rearrange an entire week of galas and garden luncheons to help me organize my glassware. Dad would cancel a full day of business meetings if he thought I needed a lightbulb changed.

Even my little sister, Chassie, who’s probably overworked, chasing deadlines, and counting down the days until her wedding, would’ve faked a sore throat to get out of work.

She’d definitely drag her fiancé-slash-my-best-friend along to help carry boxes. Their little boy probably would’ve insisted they bring snacks too.

But I didn’t ask.

My phone buzzed in my clutch. It was probably the group chat. One soon-to-be wife, five single ladies, and two gay pals who treat all our lives like serialized TV.

Maybe someone had already sent an ‘Are you sure you don’t need help?’ again, with a moving box emoji and three pink hearts.

And if I so much as replied with a ‘maybe,’ I’d have the whole cavalry coming a-running, armed with my favorite brand of rosé.

I was in the middle of mentally arranging the peonies in my living room centerpiece when a nervous voice pulled me back to earth.

“Miss Lewis?”

“Hmm?” I turned to see the concierge approaching.

He was middle-aged, slightly sunburnt, sweat beading at his temples.

“I’m really sorry,” he began, wiping the top of his balding head with a monogrammed handkerchief. “There’s… been a mix-up. The loading dock’s been double-booked. A new tenant is moving in at the same time. I tried to resolve it, but…”

He winced like I might throw a shoe at him.

“Ronald.” I smiled, glancing down at his name tag. “It’s fine. I’m sure we can work something out.”

His mouth opened slightly, as if I’d spoken a different language.

“I brought some snacks for the staff room, by the way,” I added, gently steering him back toward the concierge desk. “The lemon bars have a little zest in the crust, just so you know. And the chocolate donuts are filled.”

Ronald blinked at me then gave me a small smile, both sheepish and grateful.

Judging by his expression, he’d expected a tantrum instead of baked goods.

Which, incidentally, I had baked at one in the morning, because I was too giddy about moving day to sleep. I’d originally only planned on a batch of cookies, but somewhere between three and four, I’d talked myself into baking more.

By the time the sun came up, there were two batches of lemon bars and three dozen donuts for the staff, cooling on every available surface in my kitchen.

Ronald let out a breath of relief that immediately got caught in his throat when his eyes darted to someone behind me.

I turned slowly.

At first, I thought it might be a woman. Some polished executive type in a blazer with a matching pantsuit and a no-nonsense attitude.

I tamped down a squeal.

Yes! Neighbor bestie potential! Maybe we can exchange succulents and talk skincare.

But when I turned around fully, that hope did a little stumble.

He stood tall, every inch of him immaculate. His dark gray suit was sharp at every angle, his tie perfectly knotted at the center, his sleeves buttoned at the cuffs, and his watch gleaming as it caught the light.

His dark brown hair was neatly styled, with not a single lock out of place.

And damn… those eyes.

They were a striking blue, sharp behind his dark-framed glasses.

His expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t neutral either.

Just… blank.

No wonder poor Ronald was squirming under that gaze.

Something about him tugged at a thread in my brain, maybe a vague flicker of familiarity. I had a weird feeling I’d seen him before. Not met, but seen.

But then again, I’ve been to more events and fundraisers than I could count, and I never forget a face.

And this one didn’t look like it belonged to someone who attended charity brunches or gallery openings.

This face looked like it preferred shadows and strong coffee. And making people sweat… as a hobby.

Ronald made a small wheezing sound behind me.

Oh dear.

I stepped forward, offering my warmest smile, the one I used on grumpy CEOs and fussy donors who thought gluten-free meant tasteless.

“They’re very sorry about the mix-up,” I said calmly. “Totally honest mistake. Maybe we can work something out?”

His gaze flicked to me.

Those unreadable blue eyes scanned my face, and for one horrible second, I thought he might actually be a dick.

But then again, there’s not one I can’t smile-handle.

The corners of his mouth moved, but just barely.

Still, it was something.

“I have a flight in four hours,” he finally spoke, his voice calm, clipped… and about as warm as an iced latte.

My smile widened.

Not entirely a dick then.

“And I have a wedding dress fitting in three. Maid of honor duties wait for no woman,” I said brightly, taking a step forward.

He blinked at me, his eyes almost imperceptibly flicking down to the brown curls of my hair resting over my shoulders, then drifting to my pearl necklace at my throat, down the small bow at the center of my sweetheart neckline before tracing the drape of my pink mini dress to where it ended a few inches above my knees.

After a split-second, his gaze drifted back to mine, his expression still stoic.

I swallowed.

Did I just get audited?

I kept my smile firmly in place, undeterred. Then I offered my hand out of habit and manners. “Hi, I’m Kathie.”

There was a brief pause before he extended his own palm, fingers curling around mine in a firm grip.

“Cade,” he said, then shook my hand for exactly two seconds, no more.

My heart did a hopeful skip.

Not a dick at all.

“Nice to meet you, Cade,” I replied with a bit more enthusiasm.

He gave me the tiniest nod.

“I have an idea,” I continued. “What if our movers work together? Split the dock time, share the load. We’d both be out of here well within your four hours.”

He stared at me, his brow lifting just slightly. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” I shrugged, wriggling my brows at him. “So, what do you say, Cade?”

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he muttered eventually.

“Great!” I chirped, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Good thing I packed more than enough snacks for my movers. There’s plenty to go around.”

Behind me, Ronald exhaled shakily, the sound closer to a wheeze than a sigh. “Thanks for the lemon square, Miss Lewis. And the donuts,” he murmured before retreating to his desk.

Cade tilted his head. “You went through all that trouble?”

“No trouble at all.” I waved a hand, smoothing my pearl necklace. “Only took some flour and the upper half of my morning, really.”

For the next thirty minutes, the movers worked around each other, carrying furniture and stacks of boxes through the loading dock while Ronald hovered nearby looking like he’d aged ten years in under an hour.

Meanwhile, Cade stayed mostly silent.

He stood off to the side, watching the steady stream of movers disappear into the service elevator, occasionally checking his watch or answering short phone calls in that same clipped, impassive tone.

One of my movers passed by carrying another pink moving box, the black calligraphy curling across the side in elegant swirls.

Cade watched it go, then turned to me.

“Your moving boxes are pink,” he said quietly.

I smiled. “They’re organized.”

“With calligraphy,” he added.

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded eagerly. “A friend of mine is practicing her calligraphy.”

By the time we finished, half the staff had somehow volunteered to help my driver unload the pastry baskets from my car, and now the loading dock smelled faintly of sugar and coffee as movers crowded around them, laughing over shared cupcakes and scones.

I walked toward Cade, beaming triumphantly. “All done. They did it within, like, three hours? You have an hour to get ready for your flight.”

He glanced down at his watch. “One hour, fifty-three minutes, and twelve seconds, actually.”

“Hmm?” I blinked at him.

He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

I was about to press further—maybe test the waters if he’d like to exchange unit numbers—when my phone started ringing in my clutch.

“Oh—hold on.” I reached in to grab it, my fingers closing around the case, only for it to slip clean through and clatter onto the pavement.

I bent down to grab it.

So did he.

We moved at the same time, and I realized too late that I was about to collide head-first into Cade’s face.

In a split-second panic, I jolted back.

Unfortunately, in doing so, I subjected us both to an entirely new level of horror.

Because instead of avoiding the collision gracefully, I somehow cushioned Cade’s face with my left boob.

Nipple to mouth contact.

Oh my fucking God!

The chatter in the loading dock skidded to a deafening silence, followed by a collective gasp, and then someone dropping a bottle.

I froze, staring down at him with wide, horrified eyes. My heart squirmed inside my ribs. Heat rushed to my ears, and for a moment, I thought I was blushing all the way up to my brain.

He immediately jerked back, his hand hovering over his lips before he lowered it to his side.

His gaze snapped to my left breast.

Mine dropped to his mouth.

And for one breathless second, the skin around the tip of my nipple throbbed where I still felt the indentation of his lips.

He cleared his throat twice. “Sorry.”

When my eyes flickered back to his face, his ears and neck were red, his expression locked into that cold, composed impassiveness again, except for the way his jaw clenched.

I gave a weak, awkward-as-hell laugh and swept my phone off the pavement, shame crashing over me.

“It’s all right,” I said, waving it off too quickly. “I think it happens all the time.”

Cade’s face turned an even deeper pink.

It was then I realized what I’d just said.

“Oh no,” I blurted, trying to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t boob people all the time. You’re my first, I swear.”

I winced.

Fuck.

Why was I still talking?

Why?

Cade adjusted his glasses and looked down at his watch as if he’d found a deep, scholarly interest in it.

“I should get going,” he muttered.

I nodded, mortified beyond saving. “Right. Of course. Have a good one, Cade.”

He gave a slight nod and started stepping back. But just before he turned around, his eyes wandered back to my left boob, taking one last glimpse at the crime scene.

My cheeks flamed as his gaze left a tingling sensation in its wake.

He walked off with quick, quiet steps, the staff side-stepping out of the way.

I waited until he disappeared through the elevator doors, then I facepalmed so hard I actually heard it echoed through the loading dock.

Should I send him flowers? Or like… an apology pastry basket?

“Sorry I made you suckle my boob in front of the staff, here’s some cherry-tipped cupcakes.”

Shit.

My phone rang again, the sound cutting sharply through the awkward silence.

I jumped and I could’ve sworn the rest of the staff did too, the secondhand embarrassment brewing in their faces.

Still flustered, I fumbled with the screen before finally answering. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby!” came Owen’s voice.

“Hi!” I smoothed a hand down my skirt, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

“I just got out of a meeting,” he said. “How’s moving day? Everything go okay?”

My face went hot. “Yeah. Everything’s good.”

“Good.” I could hear voices in the background, muffled laughter, the clink of glasses. “I felt bad about not being there, but my dad’s been on my ass all week. Some councilman backed out of this morning’s fundraiser, so now I need to show face.”

“That sounds stressful,” I said automatically.

“It is,” Owen continued. “And my mother keeps adding people to the guest list like she’s assembling big names in local politics.”

He heaved out a sigh.

“I was gonna take you out after,” he went on, “but Dad wants me staying after to talk to donors. He wants his oldest son to do all the suckholing.”

“Oh.” My smile slipped. “Okay.”

He took another long sigh. “Baby, you’re not mad, are you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Of course not.”

“Thanks, baby. You know how this stuff is.”

I did.

Politics first. Everything else second.

“Rain check?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Perfect. I gotta go. One of Dad’s consultants is waving at me like I’m the greatest Brenner that’s ever existed.”

That pulled a real laugh out of me.

“There’s my girl,” he said warmly. “I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line clicked dead.

I let out a slow breath.

It was fine.

I had something better to look forward to: Chassie’s wedding dress fitting in a few hours.

I smiled to myself at the thought.

Almost instantly, I mentally filed through the veil options a few designers had sent over yesterday, specifically the ones that didn’t make Chassie look like she was being swallowed by tulle.

I straightened my shoulders and looked at the elevator doors. Cade had probably been haunted by the memory of my nipple all the way up to his floor, a floor number I never got to ask.

I sighed.

New apartment. New start.

Would’ve been nice if I hadn’t ruined a potential neighbor friendship with my boob.

🗒️ Ailee’s Note:

Hi, I’m Ailee!

Welcome to Baby Blue Town 💙 where blue eyes abound, feelings run wild, and chaos is always delicious. 💓

This is Book 2 of the Baby Blue Series! 🩵 If you haven’t met Chassie and Nathan in Book 1 yet, you can check out their story in This Time Around before diving into Kathie and Cade’s! 😉💋

I have one rule here: be nice. Everything else—naughty, flirty, chaotic—is highly encouraged. 😉

Leave shade in the comments? Instant delete. 💨 And yes, it warrants a two-universe-down flick— 🪰 —Thanos-style, naturally.

What would you do in a boob-to-face collision? 😂💋

A) Send him those cherry-tipped cupcakes 🧁😏

B) Apologize and hope the ground swallows me whole 🫠

C) Laugh it off and flirt my way out of it 😉

D) Move to another country. Immediately. ✈️💀