Fire Me Up

by Kimberly Kincaid

  His expression must’ve betrayed the shock rebounding through his system, because she continued with, “Look, I can sympathize with having things in your past that you want to let go of. As harsh as it sounds, I’d love to forget my mother even existed. So as much as I want to help, if you don’t want to talk about it, believe me, I understand.”

  “Thanks.” Adrian’s shock gave way to something deeper, something that lodged in good and hard behind his sternum, and he lowered a skillet over the burner in front of him with a metal-on-metal clang. But instead of letting the conversation smother under a thick blanket of awkward, Teagan stayed true to her word and shifted the subject with ease.

  “Your shoulder looks like it’s healing nicely. To be honest, you have more mobility than I thought you might.” She watched as he dropped some butter into the skillet, and he gave the joint in question a quick stretch and roll before following the butter with the eggs.

  “It’s still a little sore, but I’ll live.”

  “With how much you love the kitchen, it must be hard for you to take a leave of absence,” Teagan said, and even though her voice steered far clear of pity-party levels, it snapped a thread in Adrian’s chest.

  “Might’ve stung less if Carly hadn’t kicked me out.”

  “Wait . . . she kicked you out? I thought you were on leave.” The words slipped from Teagan’s mouth on a shocked breath, and even though he knew he shouldn’t give his emotions any room to move, he let them loose anyway.

  “Okay, yeah, I probably could’ve stood a little bit of a rest after this.” He nodded down at his cast with a tight jerk of his chin. “But clearly, I’m not a total waste of space. She could’ve let me come back to La Dolce Vita, at least to help, but instead, she kicked me out for the entire six weeks.”

  Teagan lifted a brow, her expression betraying nothing. “She give you a reason?”

  The thread in his chest went for the full-on unravel. “Carly’s in this happy-honeymoon phase of her life. Don’t get me wrong—she’s earned every second of being in a good place. But now she thinks anyone who puts work first is missing the bigger picture. She doesn’t get that for me, the kitchen is always going to be the bigger picture.”

  “Yeah, I can sympathize.” Teagan cracked a tiny grin as she flipped the bacon in her pan with an easy maneuver. “Well, not with the kitchen part. But not a lot of people get the whole workaholic thing. Da’s always harping on how I need a life of my own, away from the station and away from the bar. But I don’t mind the work, and he’s my father. Helping him is where I belong.”

  “Between running the Double Shot and organizing this street fair, I’d say you’re in your element, then.” Adrian curled his fingers around the skillet handle to keep it steady, using his free hand to finish the scrambled eggs. All this blabbing should give him the shakes—hell, he hadn’t opened up this much, not even with Carly, in years. But something about the one-two punch of being in the kitchen and being in the kitchen with Teagan made the whole thing seamless instead of stressful.

  The weirdest part was, the more they talked, the more he wanted to keep letting the words just slide on out.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, dividing the bacon between two plates as he wordlessly did the same with the eggs. “But like you said, I’m not in it alone. Just like you’re not in it alone while your arm heals.”

  Her wide-open expression hit him full-on, and holy hell. Even in her wrinkled T-shirt and haphazard ponytail, the truth on her face made her gorgeous.

  “Nope.” Adrian wrapped an arm around her, breathing in the earthy scent of rosemary as he pulled her close. They might not have a whole lot of time, but he was going to make every minute of the here-and-now matter.

  “We’re in it together, Red. Now grab a fork, because I guarantee this is the best breakfast you’ll ever have.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Teagan scanned the freshly printed schematic for the street fair, the feeling in her chest oscillating between shock and pure, unadulterated excitement.

  “Jeez, Brennan. You did this in four days?” She lowered the detailed pages to the already-covered office desk in front of her, letting the excitement win out. “It’s amazing.”

  Brennan shrugged, kicking back in the chair on the other side of the desk like no great shakes. “It wasn’t so hard, once Adrian and I factored in how many tents we’ll need for food service and the best setup for the prep stations. He’s done some catering and stuff before.”

  “Yeah, but you thought of everything. Foot traffic, evacuation routes, a first-aid station. Not to mention exactly what equipment we’ll need in each tent. I mean, it’s . . .”

  “It’s up to code,” Brennan said, his stare pinned firmly to the schematic. “It’ll do. How’s your dad?”

  “Still doing too much.” She closed her eyes, riding out her exhale before popping them open to continue. “Dr. Riley’s got him on a pretty good regimen with monitoring and meds right now. As long as he keeps taking it easy, he’ll be okay.”

  Not that she’d been able to get him to take it easy to begin with. Her father might not be putting in any grueling hours at the restaurant, proper, but he’d thrown himself into plans for the street fair, locking up the deal with the owner of the Cold Creek Brewery and doing tireless work to get the word out about the event. But all the easygoing charm on the planet couldn’t erase the lines of fatigue that had been etched around his eyes just this morning, and damn if they hadn’t torn at Teagan all day.

  Her father wasn’t getting any better. If anything, he was only getting worse.

  “Listen.” Brennan leaned forward, pushing up the sleeves of his gray Henley shirt to prop his forearms over his thighs and clearly choosing his words with care. “I don’t mean to pry, and you can tell me to go screw if you want. But I’ve got to ask, have you got a long-term solution worked out here? I mean, I’m glad as hell your dad is able to take some time to rest. But Lou is out of the picture for good. Diabetes and high blood pressure are no joke, and we both know the hours and the labor involved in running this place aren’t too kind. Are you sure your father is going to be able to come back for the long haul?”

  “No.”

  Teagan’s gut pitched toward her knees at the out-loud admission, and God, she’d never hated the word so much. But she was far from stupid, and denying the truth wouldn’t take care of her father. “I’m not going to lie to you, Brennan. Even after we pull off this street fair and get things right with the bills, it’s going to take a lot to get this place running smoothly again. I know you and I can figure out the bar, even once I go back to the station. But the kitchen . . .” She trailed off, unease burning a path through her chest, and Brennan lifted his chin in a quick nod of understanding.

  “You need someone permanent. Someone who’ll stay.”

  Teagan bit down on the yes forcing its way out of her mouth, snapping the sentiment in half. Sure, denial wouldn’t serve her in the long run, but she wasn’t about to let the bigger picture torpedo her efforts, either.

  No matter how spot-on Brennan was about what she needed.

  “I’ll have to figure out the kitchen and hire someone new, yes. But first things first. I need to get through the next two weeks, and the only way I can do that is one step at a time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brennan said, his dark eyes flashing with honesty. “I know you’re dealing with a lot. I didn’t mean to make this harder for you.”

  “You didn’t,” she said, matching the truth in his words. “In fact, this work you did on the setup has been incredible. Thank you.”

  He waved her off. “No problem. I’m glad to be busy. Speaking of which, I’ve got to do bar inventory before we open. Just let me know what else I can do for the street fair.”

  He pushed up from the armchair adjacent to the desk, a momentary flicker that looked an awful lot like pain streaking across his face. The expression lasted barely a second, but it slapped Teagan to her feet anyway.

  “Are you oka
y?” she asked, and Brennan froze into place across from her.

  “I’m fine.” The words flew from his mouth as if they were automatic. “A little hungry, but otherwise great.”

  “Oh.” She slid a quick head-to-toe assessment over his frame, but everything appeared to be all systems go. Damn, all this worrying about her father and the bar had her seeing things. “Well, definitely eat before dinner shift starts. I’m hoping for a busy night.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Teagan sank back down into the geriatric office chair behind the desk, shuffling through the mountain range of paperwork for the street fair. Now that the schematic was done and the permits had been approved, they could really dive into planning the food. Coiling her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, she picked up the tentative menu ideas she’d worked out with their food service distributor, then started to fine-tune with Jesse and Adrian.

  You need someone permanent. Someone who’ll stay.

  Okay, so she hadn’t planned on falling into bed with Adrian, and she damn sure hadn’t planned on it being the most mind-leveling experience she’d had since . . . well, ever. But the thing Teagan had expected least of all was repeating the process every night after that, to the point that being with Adrian, even one day at a time, had become her default.

  And it felt deliciously good.

  “No,” she whispered, giving herself a stern shake. No matter how good he made her feel in both the kitchen and the bedroom, what was going on between her and Adrian was as temporary as everything else. The sooner she got the Double Shot back in the black, the sooner Adrian could get on with his life where he belonged. The kitchen was his lifeblood, and he was already risking too much by being here. Once the street fair was over and his arm healed completely, he’d go back to the resort and she’d take care of her father and find a new cook, just like they’d planned.

  Damn it, her stomach hurt.

  “You skipped lunch again, didn’t you?” came the gravelly voice from the doorway, and Teagan shot halfway out of her seat, the pen in her hand clattering to the desktop.

  “Jeez, you scared the crap out of me!” she chirped, splaying her fingers over her slamming heart. “And how do you know I skipped lunch?”

  “First of all, I’ve been in the building as long as you have, and you haven’t left this office since we passed the threshold this morning. Secondly . . .” He crossed the room, his hazel stare full of hot intention as he stepped behind the desk to put a plate full of food down in front of her. “You always skip lunch.”

  Teagan went from startled to sexed-up in about two seconds flat, her heartbeat not slowing an inch. “What’s this, then?” she asked, pointing to the plate with lifted brows.

  “Call it an early dinner. You need to eat.”

  Oh God, the heat rolling off his body was intoxicating, and it shot straight through her as she stood up next to his muscle-wrapped frame. “Isn’t that my line?” she asked, wordlessly daring him closer.

  “Fair enough,” Adrian said, surprising her with the concession. But then he pulled her in tight with a quick yank toward his chest, and her breath escaped on a heated gasp. “Then I need to cook for you. How about that?”

  “Okay.” The word collapsed from her lips on a whispered sigh, and she pressed up to brush her mouth over his in a long, indulgent stroke. Adrian’s free hand uncurled against the back of her rib cage, locking them together from shoulder to hip, and the slide of rough denim and soft cotton sparked just enough friction on Teagan’s aching skin to make her whimper.

  “Christ, you’re going to be the end of me, you know that?” His fingers drifted over her spine, ratcheting up her desire as he cupped the back of her neck to kiss her even harder. She parted her lips in wordless invitation, losing herself in the rasp of his calloused hands on the spot by her ear, the spicy cinnamon scent of his skin on her own. Suddenly, everything outside the room shrank backward, ceasing to exist. The only thing on the planet was this man, right in front of her in this moment.

  And she was going to take him.

  “But I’ve only just started with you,” Teagan said, tightening her grip over the hard plane of Adrian’s chest. She felt his mouth part into a dark smile against the column of her neck, his reply hot over the angle where it tapered into her shoulder.

  “Be careful, Red.”

  She slid her hands outward over his chest, skimming a nipple through his shirt with the edge of one finger. “And why should I do that?”

  His heart took up a fast, steady rhythm beneath her palm, his smile becoming downright wicked as he captured her wrist with his free hand and brought his mouth scant inches above her ear.

  “Because I’m not too big on impulse control, which means if you’re not careful, I’m going to lock that door, and you’re going to end up naked and screaming right here on this desk.”

  Their mouths crashed together in a tangle of tongues and unmistakable intentions, and Teagan didn’t resist. She arched to meet Adrian’s kiss with equal intensity, only the deeper it got, the more she wanted. Rocking back on the balls of her feet, Teagan shifted to gain better access to the rest of Adrian’s body, but the combination of halted footsteps and a blurted curse from the doorway had her jerking to a stop.

  “Uh.” Jesse jumped back in the doorframe and averted his eyes at the same instant Adrian swung Teagan in the other direction, shielding her from Jesse’s view while still partly facing the door with instinctively curled fists.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jesse said, the words a tangled rush. “The door was open, so I thought . . . I’ll just catch you later.”

  “Jesse.” Her voice wavered as she sidestepped around Adrian, sudden tension humming off his body in waves. “Is everything okay in the kitchen?”

  “Oh. Yeah, absolutely.” Jesse gave his boots a good, thorough examination before chancing a look in her direction. “I just wanted to let Adrian know I finished station prep, but we can work on the menu for the street fair, you know. Another time.”

  “Wait.” The word rumbled over Teagan’s shoulder, and Adrian ran a hand over his T-shirt before stepping all the way back. “We’re straight, Jesse. I didn’t realize what time it was, but I’ll be down in a minute, yeah?”

  “Sure.” He ducked out of the doorframe with a nod, and as much as she wanted to pray for the ground to open wide and swallow her whole, Teagan lifted her eyes to Adrian’s.

  “God, Adrian, I’m sorry. I got carried away. I shouldn’t have . . .” She trailed off, waving a hand between them rather than making an attempt to define the utterly magnetic kiss with words.

  But rather than going all awkward or distant, Adrian reached up to cup her face, placing a soft, barely there kiss over her mouth. “You didn’t, Red. This one’s on me.”

  “But I—”

  “Make sure you eat before you come down for dinner shift. Fridays are usually a killer.”

  Impulse had a protest springboarding to her mouth, but the words skidded to a stop before they could fully form. Adrian’s expression wasn’t his usual mask of hard lines and don’t-mess-with-me bravado, nor was it full of a sexy dare just to watch her push back. The look on his face was so foreign, so at odds with anything else she’d ever seen there, it took her a minute to place it.

  But by the time Teagan recognized the complete vulnerability glittering in Adrian’s eyes, he’d already disappeared down the hall.

  Adrian hit the stairs at the Double Shot with a curse under his breath and a belly full of unease. Being around Teagan was far too effortless, both in the restaurant and out, and damn it, he knew better than to get caught up in a woman. But something about Teagan pulled him in like a force of nature, too big and powerful and gut-wrenchingly beautiful to resist, and giving in was a foregone conclusion.

  Jesus. He’d been milliseconds away from tearing off every stitch of her clothing, right there on her desk. It didn’t matter how high-powered his attraction to her was. He needed to get this under control, and he neede
d to do it yesterday.

  “Hey.” Adrian jammed his thoughts into a mental drawer, slamming it tight as he rounded the corner to the main stretch of the Double Shot’s kitchen. Jesse’s nearly shaved head popped up in surprise, and he paused over the tidy pile of ingredients at the workstation in front of him.

  “Hey. I didn’t mean to bother you,” Jesse said, his focus lasered in on the food.

  “No worries.” The unease in Adrian’s belly made an encore performance, and hell. He might not be a share-your-feelings-by-the-campfire kind of guy, but Teagan was going to work with Jesse for the long term, and there wasn’t any wiggle room in what the guy had seen. Time to man up and clear the air.

  Adrian hauled in a breath. “So, about what happened up there . . .”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Jesse said in quiet interruption. “To be honest, I kind of just assumed, anyway.”

  Shock filtered through Adrian’s veins. “You did?”

  Jesse’s mouth ruffled in the smallest suggestion of a smile. “I’m back here in the kitchen with you two all the time. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t notice things.”

  “Oh.” Way to go, Holt. Real eloquent. “Well, I don’t want you to, you know. Think any less of her.”

  “Why would I do that?” Jesse dropped the whisk in his hand to the stainless steel counter with a click. “I mean, the way you two look at each other, it’s pretty obvious things are mutual.”

  Adrian’s brain flashed back over the last few weeks he’d spent at the restaurant, coupled with the last four nights he’d spent with Teagan in his bed, and yeah. Mutual about covered it. “As long as we’re cool,” he said, stepping in toward the counter.

  But Jesse straightened up and stood his ground. “You tell me.”

  The unspoken question and everything that went with it hung heavy in the air between them, but Adrian didn’t even hesitate.

  “I might not be able to stick around forever, but I’ve still got her back, Jesse. Just like you.”