When I stopped doing that, Luke’s half-smile was back.
So be it.
I switched my attention to the younger Stark.
“We need to talk about last night,” I declared.
“What about it?” he asked nonchalantly.
Yes, I said nonchalantly.
“You slept with me,” I reminded him.
He nodded. Once.
“I did,” he agreed.
“In nothing but your underwear.”
“Sleeping in jeans isn’t real comfortable.”
“Gabe!” I exclaimed heatedly.
But he just hooked me at the back of my neck, yanked me into his body, and…
Get this!
Slammed his mouth down on mine, kissed me hard, but dry, let me go and asked, “How many deliveries we doin’ tonight?”
I was still recovering from the kiss—no matter how dry it was, it was still thorough—so I was pretty proud of myself when I was able to say, “You are not my delivery driver.”
“Be at yours at five. Good?”
In case he was hard of hearing, I said it louder this time. “You are not my delivery driver!”
“Text me if you need me earlier,” he replied, then started sauntering to his Jeep.
Sauntering!
“Gabriel Stark!” I shouted after him.
He did his own jerking up of his chin before he swung in, Luke swung in, and they idled with me in their headlights.
I frowned at Gabe ferociously through his windshield.
He lifted a hand and stabbed a finger toward the back door of The Surf Club.
You have muffins to make, sweetie, Dreamer sing-songed.
You can deal with him later. Without an audience. Now, you can’t let your employers down and you’re already late, Logic counselled.
Damn.
I stomped to the door, unlocked it, then stomped through it, flipping the lights on to the staff room and closing and locking the door behind me.
Only then did I hear the Jeep motor out of the lot.
FOUR
