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I smile. “You too, Mr. Rivera.”

He slowly loosens his arm around my waist and I stumble only slightly as I walk out the double doors.

I feel his eyes on me until the double doors swing shut.

I don’t let out a breath until I’m sitting in my car. I bang my head against the steering wheel.

My fantasies didn’t involve actual penetration, but God, I need someone to fuck me.

Preferably, all three of them.

And whatever comes next?

I’m ready for it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MARCUS

The next two days blur together, and Margo’s all business. She doesn’t flirt, doesn’t let us take more than a five-minute break, scolds Cole for missing spots on dishes.

I think I’m falling in love with her.

I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she snaps at me.

“Marcus, I need that dough kneaded now. Tomorrow we start the real work.”

Cole groans. “This hasn’t been real work?”

Gabe just chuckles, shaking a pan on the stove. I glare at him. He’s the golden boy since he’s got experience in the kitchen.

Margo never scolds him.

“No, it hasn’t,” Margo says flatly. “You’ll see, it’s different when it’s for real. You can’t make mistakes.”

“You won’t let us make them now,” Cole mutters, but he’s just whining. There’s a sparkle in his green eyes that wasn’t there before we met Margo.

Too bad I’m going to take her from him. Gabe, too.

“We’re running out of room,” Cole says as he places another tray of muffins on the cooling rack.

Margo huffs. “I called Wayward Hills. They said they’d send someone.”

“They’re understaffed,” I comment. “Who knows when they’ll get to it?”

Margo frowns. “Then we need to take it to them.”

I blink. “What?”

“We’re taking it to them. You’ve got a truck, right?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

My heart pounds.

Margo barks out orders before I can finish.

“Cole, you finish the dishes so we can start fresh when we get back. Gabe, keep cooking the fillings. The apple-cranberry is next.”