Stanford: What’s on today’s agenda?
Stanford: Are you taking ANOTHER day off?
Stanford: Make sure to adjust the invoice.
What a dick.
I roll my eyes and shoot him the schedule for today, which includes another training session with him and January on Hailstorm, and a casual family meal—no bar service. Tomorrow is the tasting with Elodie in the afternoon. After that, they’re going to Banff through next Monday.
I can’t wait for them to clear out of the lodge again.
Me: I’ve attached the schedule for today and tomorrow before your foray into Canada.
In the kitchen, the sweet smell gets stronger, but I can’t find anything on the short island cutting off the dining area from the kitchen. Nothing on the rest of the counters. I run my fingers along the smooth countertop.
Is this marble? Granite? It’s expensive, whatever it is. The backsplash resembles the rock from the mantel, and wow. The man’s got good taste. And from what he said, I’m the first woman to enjoy it.
Take that, Doctor-Doctor Natalie.
Did he get up in time to bake?
On a hunch, I open the oven. A gust of warm air bathes my face. Inside are a half dozen berry muffins. A grin stretches my mouth wide.
My phone buzzes. I close the oven and check who it is.
Stanford: We’re changing the time for lessons today.
I growl just as Durban enters from the laundry room. He cocks a brow.
I forget the text and take him in. He kept his cowboy boots on and they give him that rolling swagger I admire. Then there’s his tight black shirt and green flannel with the sleeves rolled up over it. As always, he fills out a pair of blue jeans in an obscene way. His hair is smashed down around his head from the hat he must’ve worn while doing chores. The look in his eyes is smoldering. It says that he knows what I look like naked and how I sound when I come. All true, but his gaze heats like he wants to do it all again.
The guy is insatiable.
So fucking hot.
I toss my phone on the counter. “Stanford wants to change the schedule.” I cross my arms. “He’s pissy because I’m not at the lodge to wait on him hand and foot.”
“Then he can suck it.” He crosses to me and plants his mouth on mine. The mint on his tongue is the same as mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, desire kindling in my belly. If I was wearing underwear, I’d dampen them again.
My body is primed for him. That look is all it takes, and I’m ready. Will it ever be like this with anyone else? Do I want it to be?
My phone vibrates against the counter, and keeps going. Someone’s calling.
He releases my mouth and I peek at the screen. Stanford.
“Ugh. He can wait.”
A mischievous gleam enters Durban’s dark eyes. “Answer it.”
“It’s fine. I’m not at his beck and call.” I am, but I can take a few bucks off the invoice. Durban will make it worth it.
The phone keeps vibrating. He turns me to face the counter and grips my hips. Tingles explode between my legs. My ass is right against his crotch. He reaches over me and taps the answer button.
My mouth drops open. “Wha?—”
“Hello?” Stanford snaps. “Campbell.”
The waistband of my pants slides down my hips, and I suck in a breath. Durban hisses. He’s discovered I’m not wearing underwear.
