She nods.
“Two,” Sadie demands. “Big ones.”
Her face is so bright, so full of light I haven’t seen in weeks, that my throat goes tight.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “All right.”
I retreat, too fast, too stiff, out the back door, letting the cold morning smack into me, and the truth hits me with brutal clarity:
Delaney Rivers is dangerous. Worse, I want her. Body, mind, all of it leaning in a direction it has no business leaning. She’s too young, too vulnerable, too close, too bright, and far, far too off limits. But want doesn’t give a damn about limits.
I exhale hard, gripping the porch railing until the wood creaks beneath my hands.
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself.
Because for a single heartbeat in that kitchen…
I wasn’t standing near an employee.
Or a complication.
Or a mistake waiting to happen.
I was standing near a woman I wanted.
Badly.
CHAPTER NINE
Delaney
I’ve always believedin the power of kitchen work as therapy.
Chop enough onions, whisk enough batter, scrub enough pans, and eventually the noise in your head dulls to a low, manageable hum.
Turns out, I severely underestimated the power of three very different men in one house to completely ruin that strategy.
Specifically, Boone in the doorway, watching me and Sadie, elbow deep in muffin batter and blueberry carnage, laughing like I hadn’t done in… I don’t even know how long. His face was soft, before he shut it down so fast you’d think feelings were a fire he needed to smother.
My stomach does a weird swoop when I remember the way he stepped closer. The way his arm brushed mine. The flash of emotion in his eyes that looked suspiciously like…
Nope.
No.
I’m not thinking about that.
Mixing bowl. Flour. Focus.
“Is it supposed to look like that?” Sadie asks, skeptically eyeing the batter I’m stirring.
“This,” I inform her, “is what perfection looks like before it goes in the oven.”
She hums, doubtful. “It looks like slime.”
“Well, that’s hurtful.”
She grins, and the ache in my chest eases a little.
