by Brisa Starr
“Ryker Miles,” I whisper.
“Nooo!” Her eyes grow into saucers, and then she playfully grimaces. She remembers his mother. How could she forget?
“Yes! And can you believe, he came in last week, and he basically told me how much he hated me. Then, we had it out at the Crossbow Dixie, where he told me he blamed me for his parents’ divorce, and I set him straight on how ridiculous that was. After that, he apologized for being a bully when we were in high school. And, well, I apologized for my behavior in high school, too.”
My mom’s jaw drops. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me this yet.”
I grab a fork and napkin and pick up Ryker’s plate. “I know. I’ve just been so busy. And really, it means nothing, so there wasn’t anything to say.”
“Then honey, why is he staring at you like he wants to whisk your eggs with his…”
“Mom!” I cut her off. She giggles at her joke.
“He’s a jackass, that’s why. And, if you haven’t heard, you will soon, since he’s back for the summer, and people here love to gossip. Apparently, he’s a billionaire. With a B.” Her serrated knife slips off the tomato she’s cutting and almost snags her finger. “Holy shit, seriously?”
“Swear jar,” I say, not offering to pay for her this time. “Yeah, he got involved with Bitcoin back in high school, and it paid off. Big time. He tried to tell me I was partly responsible for his success, because he never would’ve gotten into it if I hadn’t made his parents split.” I shrug.
“Billionaire?” she whispers, still in shock.
“Yeah. Too much money, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He tried to take Robert’s place and invest when he heard I’d lost the investor.”
“So why didn’t you take it?” Her mouth opens, slack.
“Because! I’m not taking his money!” I whisper as loudly as I can. “He offered it like ten seconds after he told me how much he hated me. He’s a nutjob. And besides, he’s waaay too handsome. I can’t be having dirty thoughts about my investor.” I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe I said that.
Even though Mom and I share everything, I didn’t want to voice my attraction to Ryker out loud.
Then we both laugh. “You should go for him,” she says, and a cold wave washes through me. I see the look on my mom’s face, and I know what she’s thinking. Because he has money.
Disappointed, I turn to leave the kitchen, and I snap over my shoulder to her, “I’m making it on my own, Mom. I don’t have time for a man. I definitely don’t need one.”
Feeling strong, I throw my shoulders back and walk over to Ryker. I set his plate down in front of him, along with his fork and napkin.
“Thanks. Looks great,” he says.
I walk into the dining area and wipe down the tables, and Popster asks, “Aspen, are you working on a website for the hotel?”
“Crap. I need to get going on that right away. Maybe I can hire the same girl who did the website for the bistro, but it’ll cost money.” I stop cleaning for a minute. “I could probably figure it out myself, but I don’t know where I’d find the time.”
I sigh as I walk back to the counter to get a clean towel, and I’m overwhelmed with all the things on my plate. But gratitude, and the joy of striving toward my life goal, are also pumping me full of adrenaline and excitement, so I feel energized. I see many long nights ahead of me.
“Aspen?” Ryker calls me, and my heart skips a beat. I confess, I love the sound of my name on his lips. Momentarily forgetting my long list of things to do, I take a deep breath.
I turn around and step closer to him. I smile when I see he’s licked his plate clean. “Yes?”
“You didn’t bring me any pie.”
“I didn’t think you actually meant pie.”
“Of course I meant your pie. What else would I mean?” He smiles and raises a single eyebrow.
My damn heart flutters.
I don’t want my damn heart to flutter!
I look down at my chest, and I will my heart inside… to stop fluttering!
I turn around and go get a slice of cherry pie and a clean fork. I return and set it down in front of him.
“What’s with the suit?” I ask him, partly because curiosity gets the better of me, but mostly because I feel like talking with him.
“I lost a bet with my dad. I have to work at his law firm for two months,” he says, shaking his head and laughing at himself. He picks up the fork, ready to dig in, and stops. “Let’s celebrate about your hotel tonight. I’d like to take you to dinner.”
I snap my head up at him and give him my best “are you crazy?” expression.
“What?” he asks innocently.
“No freaking way!” I say, maybe a bit too quickly, and sharply, and loudly… so, I soften my tone. “Sorry to be harsh, Ryker, but I don’t want to go out with you.” I put my hand up to my mouth, and bending over the counter, I whisper with my nose scrunched up, “Plus? I don’t really like you.”
“Of course you do,” the cocky bastard says, then takes his first bite of the pie. “Damn, Aspen, this is delicious,” he says. “Besides, you have to eat.”
“I work in a restaurant, Einstein. I have all the food I need.”
“Don’t you want to get to know your future husband?” he says, then takes another bite with his sexy mouth, his lips in a tight smile while he chews. He’s clearly enjoying this banter.
“Nope.”
“Ah, good! At least you admit I am your future husband! You just don’t want to get to know me first.” He takes another bite of his pie, chews it thoughtfully, swallows it, and then adds, “I like a woman willing to take risks.”
I chuckle. How could I not?
The man is incorrigible.
I bite the inside of my lip and try not to let him see his effect on me. Then I set him straight. Again. “I can’t, Ryker. I have to bake ten pies tonight for the homeless shelter, and I have a list of things as long as my arm to get done, now that the hotel is happening.”
It’s almost two o’clock, and I turn around and start getting things ready to close up. I wonder where Jessica is. She promised she’d help me bake the pies tonight. As I’m sweeping behind the counter, I look over at him while he finishes his pie, and he’s busy using his phone.
OK, Aspen, you get ten seconds to imagine anything you want about Ryker, and then be done forever. GO!
I wonder what his muscular arms would feel like wrapped around me… Is he a good kisser? He’d have to be, look at that mouth, and his confidence. What does he taste like? I wonder if he’s attentive in b… Oops, time’s up!
“Aspen?” Mom calls from the kitchen, startling me from my reverie.
“Yeah, Mom?” I respond as I wipe down the counter and take Ryker’s empty plate. I look up at him, and he licks his lips, smacking them for fun. “Your pie is amazing,” he whispers.
My face heats up, and I swallow.
“… and juicy,” he adds.
Then, my knees wobble, and I hold on to the counter for stability as desire runs between my legs, while I try to keep a poker face.
“Jessica just called,” my mom continues, from the kitchen. “She’s sick and can’t come in to help you make pies tonight, and she’s sorry, but she promised to make it up to you.”
My shoulders slump. “Great,” I say and shake my head.
“Oh!” Mom adds, still yelling from the kitchen, “And she says it’s not because she’s hung over. It’s legit this time.” And Mom laughs. I don’t.
“Ahem,” Ryker says, and I look at him. “Do you happen to need my services?” he asks.
“Uh, no thank you. Once again,” I reply.
And before he can say another word, I walk back into the kitchen and start gathering the ingredients to make the pies. While I’m doing that, Mom and Popster finish closing up. They can see Ryker out. A few minutes later, I come out of the pantry carrying my bins of flour and sugar. I peak into the dining room. He’s sti
ll sitting at the counter, talking on his phone.
Crap. Well, maybe he’ll leave soon.
I busy myself gathering the rest of the ingredients and equipment, when I hear Mom call from the dining room as she opens the door, and the bells above it jingle. “Aspen, we’ll see you later!”
Before I can reply, I hear the door close and lock. I walk into the dining room and see Ryker is still there, and he ends his phone call. It’s not unusual for customers to hang out here after closing, but I know Mom, and she did this intentionally. The wench.
He stands up and takes off his coat. He lays it across the counter and rolls up his sleeves. My eyes fall to his sexy forearms, golden tan and corded with muscles. Then he says, “I’m all yours.”
Dammit, I could use his help. I stand there debating with myself.
Fine. What’s the harm?
I give him one more chance to go. “You really don’t have to help, Ryker, you can go.”
“What is it with you and accepting help from people?”
“I don’t have a problem accepting help from people. I have a problem accepting help from you.”
“Get used to it. I’m here to stay.”
I don’t know what that really means, but I decide he means for tonight. To help bake cherry pies.
I put my hands on my hips and shift my weight to one leg. “It would be nice not to have to do dishes.” I smirk, thinking, if that doesn’t turn him away, nothing will.
“Dishes it is!” he says, with the gusto of a sixteen-year-old landing his first job.
I shake my head, a small smile on my lips. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
As I walk into the kitchen, I say, “Follow me.”
“I plan to. Forever,” he whispers, and my heart spins like a figure skater going for the gold.
Dammit, Aspen. Stay the course.
14
Ryker
I follow Aspen into the bistro’s kitchen, and my heart congratulates itself, pumping high-fives inside my chest.
I get to be alone with her. For… hours? I have no idea how long it takes to make pies. I hope it takes all night.
She hands me an apron. “I wouldn’t want you to get your nice clothes dirty.” She walks over to the sink to wash her hands, and gestures for me to do the same.
When she’s done, she dries her hands and says, “OK, let’s get started.” Her voice is business-like and in-charge, and it’s incredibly sexy. A captain leading her ship. And she looks adorable and bossy. I can’t take my eyes off her succulent, cherry-red lips… they beckon like dewy, red rose petals.
“Ryker!” she snaps. “Are you paying attention?”
I shake my head. “No, ma’am. I was focused on your lips! Ma’am!”
“GOD! What have I gotten myself into?!” She wails and turns around.
“Something good!” I bellow. “OK, I’m paying attention to more than your lips now! What can I do to you, er, FOR you?” I laugh at my joke, and she shakes her head in disbelief, sort of amused, I think.
She gets out a scale from under the stainless steel table we’re going to work on, and she weighs ingredients, while directing me to get things for her. After fetching her some ice water and the unsalted butter from the refrigerator, I stand right next to her, purposefully so close that my shoulder, elbow, and hip line right up next to her body.
She slowly turns her head to face me, and her lips look so delicious and needing to be kissed hard. She purses those lips and raises her eyebrows, looks back to the table to continue her work, and takes one step to the left. Away from me. To break our closeness. Dammit. She gives me a sidelong glance.
“No flirting, Ryker. Keep your hands and body to yourself,” she commands like a drill sergeant and hands me two giant, stainless steel mixing bowls. “Make yourself useful and wash these, please. Use a clean towel and make sure they’re dry before bringing them back.” I’m not happy to be on the other side of the kitchen, but I follow her orders.
I take the bowls back to her and, with nothing to do, I watch her for a while. She’s in her groove now, a master of her craft, and I admire her work ethic, willing to do what it takes to get what she wants. Well, I’m willing to do what it takes to get what I want. Her. My cock hardens, and my heart speeds up as I watch her make the dough with such focus and concentration. I roll my shoulders to relieve the horny tension tightening up my body.
She reaches her arm up to wipe her forehead, and it hits me again how mesmerized I am with this woman. She’s pushing a dough ball onto the counter to flatten it into a disc, and her curvy ass, clad in tight jeans, is sticking out as she pushes down on the dough. She’s making my cock even harder. I crack my neck.
Then, before I can help myself, a picture pops into my mind, with her jeans down around her ankles, and she’s bent over that stainless steel table, baking flour flying everywhere, as I fuck her from behind.
Shit. My cock is so hard I can’t walk.
I turn back to the sink and distract myself by washing dishes. I’m tempted to bend over and stick my head under the faucet to help.
She calls over her shoulder, “So, how was it working for your dad today?”
Glad to be on a topic that will shrink my third leg, I say, “It’s only been a couple of days, but it was good. I went to law school and passed the bar exam, so I can practice, but after I cashed in my Bitcoin, I took a year to do nothing, and I realized I didn’t have to do law if I didn’t want to. Well, I didn’t do nothing, I traveled and played, bought homes around the world, and other things.”
“You don’t like law?”
I pause to think about it. “I guess I like it, mostly. But I was relieved to have the freedom to do whatever, since Dad always expected me to work with him. And the minute I realized I didn’t have to, I took off and had fun.”
I walk back over and stand next to her again, the side of my body sidled up against her. Touching her feels good, even through clothing and aprons. I fucking love being near her. Hoping my talking will distract her from my standing so close, I continue, “But it’s been over a year, and I have to admit… I find myself bored, and frankly, lonely.” I turn to look at her, and when I finish talking, she looks over at me, and slowly steps to the left. Dammit.
“Then what?” she asks and starts wrapping the dough in Saran Wrap.
After a beat, I slyly step to the left, so I’m next to her again, trying not to push it too far, but she seems to tolerate my playfulness, maybe even enjoys it.
“When I came back to Michigan last week, my house felt bigger than I remembered. Empty. Then my dad started harassing me about not having any direction or purpose in my life.”
She steps away from me again and sees I’m about to follow. She holds up her hand and commands, “Stay!”
I listen to her this time. Then, she prompts me to continue. “And?”
“Well, it got me thinking, and he’s right. I thought I liked the solitude, though in my defense, I think I preferred being alone mostly because I never know anyone’s true intentions once they hear about my money. The year I took to play was fun, but it would get old if that’s all I did. You can only lie on a beach so long. At least, when you’re lying there alone.”
She looks at me, and I wiggle my eyebrows at her. She shakes her head and walks over to put the large, plastic-wrapped dough rounds into the refrigerator.
“Um, don’t we need those?” I ask, momentarily pausing my thoughts about my sad, lonely life.
She laughs. “Yes, but it needs to chill first, for about an hour.”
“Nice,” I say with a low laugh. I step toward her. “I have some ideas for what we can do in that time.”
“Don’t even think about it. I have to make the cherry filling.”
“So, you’re not saying no, you’re just saying not yet.”
“No, I’m ignoring you and working.” She mixes the cherries in a pot on the stove with other ingredients, and then she snaps, “I’m sure there are plenty of women lining up for you.�
�
I chuckle. I’m encouraged by her tone. She whips her head in my direction. I make a straight face.
She turns back to the stove, and I say, “Well, to be honest, there was a time when I didn’t think I’d ever get married. After what my mom did, I had a boulder-sized chip on my shoulder about women. I’m not even sure how her current marriage is—she doesn’t have the best track record. And after I made the money, women just saw dollars when they saw me.”
“Oh, I think they see more than just dollars,” she says and sighs.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, and I walk over to her, standing behind her. She inhales sharply, and I want to kiss the back of her neck, but dammit, we’re near a stove, with an open flame. “What else do they see?” I whisper.
Her body softens for the briefest moment, and she shrugs, playing it off. But then she admits, “You’re not hard on the eyes, Ryker.”
“Well, great, that makes me feel better. A woman after just my looks and my money,” I joke.
She laughs too, and then says, “I guess we have something in common.”
“People wanting us for our looks?”
“No,” she says, ignoring the compliment and walks over to the counter with the empty cherry boxes on it. She leans back against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. “I mean, about having nutty moms. My mom never cheated on any of her husbands, but she’s had a string of crap marriages, getting married for the wrong reasons. She was always looking for security.”
I watch her as she speaks, and I can see the frustration with her mom etched on her face. I walk over to her and stand next to her, giving her space this time, not touching her. I turn my face to her. “But my dad has convinced me, recently, that not all women are after my money,” I say, and then I bump my hip to hers playfully, and she gives me a smile.
“And I know that not all women cheat,” I continue. I step closer to her, hoping persistence is a virtue that will work for me, eventually. I can’t help it. I want to touch her. It’s that magnetic feeling again, always pulling me toward her. I close my eyes for a second, and I inhale her sweet scent. My pulse races, and she doesn’t move away this time. My eyes pop open when I realize this, and they meet hers.
