by Roni Loren
“Right. So I am here to save you from that horror.”
He grinned. “So thoughtful and self-sacrificing.”
She nodded sagely. “Yes. You are very lucky I arrived in time.”
The simple words swept through him and filled him up inside. Rebecca had no idea how true that was. Yes, he was lucky to have her here tonight, but it was so much more than that. He thought back to that lonely night walking down the street after the Shirtless Chef party, how empty and angry he’d felt, how lost. He couldn’t predict now where that road would’ve led him if he hadn’t stumbled upon Rebecca that night, but he had a good idea it would’ve been nowhere good.
“You must be hungry. You didn’t even change clothes yet.” Her hair was piled into a messy bun atop her head, something she liked to do after she got home from work where she had to be all buttoned-up and lawyerly, but she hadn’t changed out of her pinstriped suit yet. The whole effect just made her look powerful and hot, which he didn’t realize he had a thing for until he’d started dating Rebecca. He tugged on her jacket lapels and brought her in for a kiss.
“Mmm,” she said, smiling as he released her from the kiss. “I didn’t want to risk missing anything.”
“Well, you’re just in time. I was about to test out Steven’s idea for a Southwestern Croque Monsieur. We tried it in class today, but I want to make sure that if we put it on the menu, we can turn it out for customers quickly with this equipment.”
A look of affectionate warmth crossed her face. “He’s coming up with new ideas a lot lately. I guess he’s settling in with his aunt?”
“Seems to be.” Steven had been cleared of charges, thanks to Rebecca, and Steven’s father had lost custody. But it’d been a transition for Steven to move in with an aunt he barely knew who lived in the Austin hills, far from his old neighborhood. But his aunt and her husband had been welcoming and had done everything they could to ease the transition, even letting Steven continue to attend the after-school program despite it being a half-hour drive from their neighborhood. “I think they’ve worked the growing pains out. He’s not used to having people who actually care where he’s going and what time he’ll be back. But he’s been in a great mood the last two weeks. He also may have developed a crush on Lola. He’s been trying to cook things he knows she’ll like and then getting all red-faced and awkward when she compliments his food.”
“Uh-oh.” Rebecca laughed. “Warning: drama ahead.”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I think Lola’s into it. She watches him when he’s not looking with this little smile on her face. It’s really kind of sweet.”
“Aww, you’re such a softie. I bet that one day they’ll make a beautiful restaurant together,” Rebecca said, slipping past him into the truck and shutting the door behind her so Knight didn’t sneak in. She snagged a pinch of shredded Monterey Jack off the cutting board and popped it in her mouth. “So, guess what I got today.”
“Sexier? Because I think that actually happened. That suit is doing things to my imagination that could shame the paint off this bus,” he said, giving her a slow up-and-down look. “You should undo another button on that shirt. It’s hot in here. Wouldn’t want you to faint.”
She smirked and playfully undid her top button, letting her white blouse gape open enough for him to see the edges of her lacy bra. “Better?”
The front of his jeans got a little tighter. “Much.”
“But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
He turned off the flattop griddle, his skin now truly overheated. “What did you get?”
She reached behind her and pulled something from the waistband of her slacks. She held up an envelope and grinned. “Permission for Adele to park her pretty yellow butt at the food-truck park, three spots over from Dev.”
Wes’s mouth fell open. “Really? Like, no more paperwork? No more red tape? They told me—”
“They were giving us the runaround is what they were doing, so I may have called in a small favor from my dad. He knew the guy who was dragging his feet on the permits and did his thing. We can roll Adele out for her debut next month, which should give the class enough time to wrap up all the finishing touches, finalize the menu, and get it out of my backyard.”
“You’re serious,” he said.
“I am.”
Wes crossed the small space, a rush of excitement going through him, and picked her up off her feet. “It’s really happening.”
“It’s so happening!” she announced, laughing as he spun her around and nearly knocked everything off the narrow counters.
He gave her a hard kiss and sat her on top of the bare prep table, parking himself between her knees. “The kids are going to be so excited.”
“Yes. The kids,” she said, tracing her fingertips down his chest and sending hot tendrils of desire curling through his body. “It’s totally about the kids.”
He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I’m a little excited about it.”
She arched a brow and sent a pointed look downward, tucking a finger in his waistband and tugging. “Well, you’re excited about something, chef.”
He braced his hands on either side of her and crowded her against the darkened windows. “Oh, that has nothing to do with the truck. That has everything to do with my very beautiful, very unbuttoned lawyer girl spread out on my prep table. I’m suddenly not so motivated to do recipe testing.”
She looped her arms around his neck, her blue eyes wicked. “Maybe I’m suddenly not so hungry.”
“A shame.” He kissed down the curve of her neck, his hand sliding along her thigh. “Guess we’ll have to find something better to do to work up an appetite.”
“We can’t do this here,” she said, tilting her head back to give him better access to her neck. “Anyone could see us. And I’m pretty sure it would be a health code violation.”
He chuckled against her skin and blindly reached out to find the light switch. The bus went dark except for the moonlight spilling through the narrow, horizontal windows. “Now, no one can see us.”
“Wes,” she gasped.
“Hold on, lawyer girl. We’re about to christen Adele.”
* * *
Rebecca’s heart was thumping hard in her chest and her blood pumping hot as Wes guided her legs around his waist and then lifted her off the table. Her rational side said they should go in the house. There was a perfectly good bed, couch, or living room floor to violate. But when Wes carried her to the back of the bus where they’d had enough room to set up a VIP table with two bench bus seats flanking it, a sharp thrill went through her.
Wes set her atop the table and pulled off his T-shirt, leaving him in just the black bandanna that held back his hair, his tattoos, and a pair of worn jeans. Her libido gave a sharp kick, and she licked her lips. “Maybe we should rethink this Shirtless Chef thing. We’ll make millions.”
Wes gave her a rougish smile. “Ready to share me already?”
“No, you’re right,” she said with a nod. “No sharing. There’d be blood.”
He braced a hand beside her on the table and unbuttoned her slacks with the other. “I have to say, this slightly violent side of you makes me a little hard.”
She reached down and slid her hand over the front of his jeans, the stiff length of him hot against her palm. “Feels like more than a little.”
“Well, my woman is about to be stripped naked and wearing only moonlight and a smile soon, so what else would you expect?”
She smiled as he tugged her slacks and panties down her legs. My woman. Once upon a time, that probably would’ve raised her feminist hackles. She didn’t belong to anyone. But with Wes, it pushed all her buttons because she’d finally figured out what people really meant when they said things like that. From the outside looking in, she’d never gotten it. Now she did. She was his, and he was hers because they chos
e to entrust their hearts to each other. A bold and scary choice, but one that gave her fear no longer.
She’d never felt more right about any decision in her life.
Wes pushed her jacket off her shoulders and then she unbuttoned her blouse, letting it and her bra fall to the floor. He gave her a ravenous look that made a hot shiver run over her skin.
He cupped her breast and ran a roughened thumb over her nipple, making desire curl low and liquid in her belly. Then he was lowering himself to his knees, kissing each part of her along the way. Mouth, neck, breast… His tongue tasting every inch of her. Sternum, belly, hip… Wet, stirring kisses that left flames burning in their wake. The slope of her pelvis, her inner thigh…
Her fingers curled around the edge of the steel table, need pulsing hard at the center of her. “Wes…”
“Patience. This is a multicourse meal.” The tip of his tongue tasted the inside of her knee and then trailed upward, making her muscles clench and her back arch. “I want to enjoy every bite of it.”
He was going to kill her. Just make her melt like cheese on a griddle and slide right onto the floor. But when she looked down at him and saw the strong lines of his face in the moonlight, the intent look in his eyes, she knew he was torturing himself as well. The chef knew how to savor, how to build up for the main course so that every morsel provided the ultimate satisfaction. He wasn’t going to let either of them go hungry.
She lay back on the table, not trusting her muscles to hold her up, and he teased her for a little longer with his tongue, with his skilled fingers, with his dirty words. But when she cried out his name, the begging note cracking in her voice, he finally relented. He kissed the center of her, dragging his tongue over her clit one last time and then slipped his fingers out of her.
He stood, his gaze devouring her as he undid his jeans and shoved them down. The fact that he didn’t kick them off just made her burn hotter. He was desperate now too. Hungry.
He took himself in his hand and gave his cock a stroke as he stepped between her legs, dragging all her attention to the filthy, toe-curling display. She reached out and put her hand over his, following his movements for a moment, her fingers getting slick with his arousal.
Wes grunted under his breath and took her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Keep that up, and this will be done quickly.”
She smiled and leaned back on her elbows. “I have trouble keeping my hands off you.”
He tucked his hands behind her knees and moved closer, rubbing the head of his erection against her and setting off every needy nerve ending inside her. “I know the feeling. I guess addiction isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Not this time.”
Wes pushed inside her, filling that empty, aching space in her body and all the formerly empty spaces in her heart. The connection electrified every sensitive inch of her, and her head tipped back in pleasure. Wes was done with the teasing, his hips pumping deep and steady.
“Touch yourself,” he said, the words thick with need. “I want to see my girl take what she needs.”
In her former life, those words would’ve made her freeze up. Sex had always been such a clandestine affair in the dark. A balance of hiding her scars and trying not to overthink things. Now, no fear entered her system. With Wes, she always felt beautiful and sexy. No performance, no smoke and mirrors, no covers to hide beneath. Just her. Naked and free. In every way possible.
She slipped her hand between them and touched herself where she liked. Wes made a pained sound. “I’m never going to be able to look at this table again without picturing this. We’re going to have to sell the bus, or I’ll get nothing done.”
She laughed, though the sound came out choked and twined with a sound of pleasure. “Worth it.”
“So worth it.” He picked up the speed of his thrusts, his chest damp and glistening with exertion, and she forgot how to respond to any kind of conversation.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The feel of him inside her, her slippery fingers, and him watching her were too much. Her body was racing past any kind of control. “Wes…”
“Bec.” Her name was a plea, and she felt herself go over, crying out and arching on the steel table, the metal warm beneath her. Wes followed quickly behind, burying deep as he came, and gripping her legs like he would fall apart.
A satisfied moan rocked through the interior of the bus as they both floated back down to earth. Wes braced himself on his elbows, poised above her and breathing hard. “The bus is going to need a good, hard cleaning.”
Rebecca grinned up at him. “Butt prints on a table are definitely a health code violation.”
He laughed, the thunderous sound filling her up from the inside. “Yep. Don’t care right now, though.”
“Me neither. This was just what I needed. You.”
He peered down at her, and the look that came across his face nearly broke her in two. He kissed her forehead. “You are the best part of my day, Bec. I’m so glad you’re home.”
She closed her eyes and let the words melt into her. Home.
All her life that word had been barbed. Home was the place she’d almost run away from when her mom had left. Home was the empty hallways when her dad worked late. Home was Long Acre where she’d lost so many people and so much of herself.
Home had never felt like this. Like the right key sliding into the matching lock.
Like forever.
Finally, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She reached up and cupped his jaw. “I love you, Wes Garrett.”
He kissed her again. “I love you back, Mrs. Garrett.”
A tingly ripple of contentment went through Rebecca at the sound of that. No one knew to call her that yet, no one knew what they’d done on their seemingly spontaneous trip to Paris last weekend. “Think we should tell everyone yet?”
Wes smiled down at her, his handsome face so familiar to her now but no less breath-stealing. Dimples appeared beneath his scruff. “We’re going to freak everyone out.”
“You look super worried about that,” she said drolly.
He eased away from her and pulled up his jeans. “I’m not. I’m not worried what anyone thinks but you and me. I’ve never been so sure of a decision in my life.”
She sat up and then let him drag her into his lap in the booth seat. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Me neither.”
And that was the truth. She’d spent her life following the rules, doing what was proper, what was expected. Her one act of rebellion early on had cost her so much that she’d been terrified to ever stray off script again. But now she realized that the best parts of life were outside the lines, scribbled in the margins, in the parts without facts and rules and closing arguments. There, it was just feelings and intuition and knowing down to your bones that you’d found the person you wanted to be with forever.
So when she’d walked into that Paris church with Wes and promised him a lifetime, she’d never felt so reckless or so very sure of something in all her life.
Soon, they would tell everyone and make it official here. They’d plan a proper party to celebrate and invite family and friends.
But for now, forever was just for them.
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The One You Fight For
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Shaw Miller made his coffee order at the counter of the bustling shop and dug a few bills from his wallet. He could feel the gaze and smile of the cashier on him as he plucked out the money, but he chose not to look up. He would need at least two cups of coffee and a different personality before he was in the mood for small talk.
The pretty redhead took the mo
ney and kept her gaze on him. “Hey, have we met before? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here, but you look familiar for some reason.”
He glanced up briefly and tried to appear nonchalant, even though the words sent his gut twisting into a knot. “I don’t think so. But I’ve been told I have one of those faces.”
“Maybe so. Or maybe I was just wishing I’d met you before.” She gave him a sly grin.
The flirtation bounced off him like hail against a windshield. He shoved two bucks in the tip jar. “Where do I wait for my coffee?”
Her smile faltered a bit at his flat tone, but she cocked her head to the right. “Over there. Chris will set you right up. And here—” She slid a loyalty card across the counter. “Next time we’ll be even faster because we’ll already know your order.”
He pocketed the card and mentally scratched this coffee shop off his list of places to frequent. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, darling.”
As long as anytime is never.
With his coffee in hand, Shaw hurried out of the mocha-scented shop and into the cool morning. You look familiar. His long strides ate up the sidewalk as he headed to work, and he couldn’t help checking over his shoulder to see if anyone was following—an old habit he couldn’t seem to break.
Rivers, Shaw’s best friend and the one who’d coaxed him back to this town, would tell him that he was overreacting. Rivers had assured him that his fears about returning to Austin were overblown. Shaw had changed his name, his look, and had cut the traceable ties to his old life as much as anyone could in the world of the internet. He’d covered all the bases. But the woman at the coffee shop had, for a moment, looked at him like she’d recognized him for real, and that had sent ice through his veins.
Shaw wanted to dismiss it as his own paranoia. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d thought someone was looking at him askance, only to be reading too much into it. Last night at the bar, he’d even had a brief snap of fear that the sexy singer who’d lost her shoe had looked at him with some hint of familiarity at first. But based on the fact that “James with a z” had been about to ask him to coffee, he knew he’d been wrong on that one. Of course, that hadn’t meant he could accept her invitation—as much as he’d been tempted by it—but it did prove he was prone to thinking the worst.
