by Meg Benjamin
“No meat? They might think that is a little on the light side.”
“Light’s a good idea when you’re thinking romance.”
Was that what you had in mind with the pizza?
He glanced down at the tomatoes and basil, plus a little mozzarella. Was that what he’d had in mind?
He managed not to look at Bec. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be wise. “I guess I could grill some chicken breasts and slice them up on top of the pasta. That way they’d have a little more protein.”
“Probably a good idea.” She picked up her pizza, staring off at an aspen grove. Apparently, she was also avoiding his gaze.
He took another swallow of his IPA, trying to think of something else to talk about.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” Bec gave him a quick glance from beneath her eyelashes.
His imagination helpfully supplied a full menu of things he’d like her to do before he managed to get it under control. “What do you mean?”
“I mean at the dinner thing with Abe and Angel. What do you want me to do?” She counted off on her fingers. “Cut up veggies? Set the table? Pour the wine? Follow Carol around when she brings out the food?”
He shrugged. “All of the above? Honestly, I just need you to pick up the slack and do whatever I can’t do. That means some slicing and dicing, but it also means getting the table ready. And Carol’s going to need help. I think she can probably serve okay, but I don’t want her trying to balance a tray with plates.”
“No. She’s really resourceful, but she’s eleven. Carrying a heavy tray is not yet in her skillset. I think she can probably carry a couple of plates, though.”
“Basically, you’ll be on call. Doing whatever needs doing.” He paused as he started to pick up another slice. “How did you find out who Abe’s date was?”
She frowned. “Abe’s date?”
“You said Abe and Angel. How did you know that’s who he was dating?”
“Oh. Ruth guessed. I didn’t realize they were going together.”
“You know Angel?” He was watching her now. Something about her expression seemed off, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
She shrugged, looking away again. “I know her.”
“But?”
She blew out a long breath, staring down at the table top. “She’s the last of the three, actually. The last person you were going to have to contact. She’s the one who sold me my yeast.”
He frowned, trying to get his head around what she’d just said. “But Angel’s a baker. Abe was grinding flour for her. Her yeast wouldn’t work for beer.”
Bec gave him a ghost of a smile. “She finally got him to do that? She worked on him for months to get that flour. Good for her.”
“And the yeast?”
“She makes bread,” Bec said slowly. “She knows her yeast, even if it’s a different type. And she’s got a lot of curiosity about the way things work. We worked together on taking wild yeast and taming it. Sort of.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold.
Wyatt moved a little closer to her on the bench, sliding his arm across her shoulders. She stiffened, and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Just trying to generate a little heat here, honest.
“I thought you got wild yeast by leaving the fermenter open to the air and taking what you get.”
“That’s one way. But I wasn’t going for a sour beer. Or not just a sour. I wanted a particular taste with a particular yeast. Angel does all kinds of wild yeasts for her sourdough starters. She helped me figure out what I was looking for. And she helped me find it.”
He frowned, trying to follow her story. “The yeast wasn’t really wild?”
“Not the way you’re thinking—it wasn’t something I pulled out of the air to flavor my beer. It was Angel’s yeast, though. Something she’d found and refined. So far as I know, I’m the only brewer who ever used it.” She sighed, leaning back against his arm.
“Does she still have the yeast?”
“I think so, but I don’t know. She’s another one I haven’t talked to in a couple of months.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You might not want me waiting on tables if Angel’s going to be there. Seeing me in the kitchen might get her out of the romantic mood.”
He ran his fingers along the edge of her wrist, feeling the silk of her skin. “You might be exaggerating a little bit.”
“No, I’m not. We were friends, Angel and me. I like Abe, and I respect Cooper, but Angel was my friend. I made things tough for her. I owe her money. I don’t blame her for being mad. I’d be mad, too, in her place.”
He dropped his arm to her waist, loosening his hold when she stiffened again. “Did you try to explain it to her?”
She blew out a long breath. “Not really. I saw her on the street one time, but she looked so angry I was afraid to go near her.”
He tried to look into her eyes, but she’d turned away. “She might have been mad about something else. Or she might have gotten over it by now. Did you ever try again?”
Bec shook her head. “I couldn’t. Everything was falling apart. I couldn’t talk to her. And I haven’t since.”
He stroked the back of his fingers against her cheek—her skin felt slightly cool. “Do you want to?”
“Talk to her?” She turned to look at him for the first time since they’d started the conversation about Angel. She licked her lips, then shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I miss her.”
“Why not do it?”
“I’m not…” She paused for so long he thought she might not answer at all. “I’m not good at stuff like that. I mean, I had trouble even talking to Cooper, and he’s just someone I work with. Angel was my friend. Abe, too. I figure neither of them would be all that excited to hear from me after all this time when I left them high and dry.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure Abe wants to hear from you. Needs to, as a matter of fact. But I can’t answer for Angel. It wouldn’t hurt to try, though.”
She shrugged, her lips moving into a slightly shaky smile. “It might.”
“This could be a good chance to test the waters. You can see her when you help Carol, but you probably won’t have to say much unless you want to.”
She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, forcing him to pull his arm away. His body still hardened. She smelled faintly of clover and cut grass, probably from the backyard at the deli, but there was still the hint of lavender. He didn’t think he’d ever been turned on by a meadow before.
“We’re going to be blowing your cover,” she mumbled.
He frowned. “My cover?”
“Getting the yeast from Angel. You can’t pretend it isn’t me you’re working with.”
“Oh.” He rubbed his hand over the muscles of her back. “I think that was already pretty much gone. I mean, Abe knew I was working with you before I got there.”
“And he still agreed to this dinner? Do you think he told Angel?”
“No idea.” He leaned forward so that he could look at her face again.
She shivered slightly. He hoped it was because of him rather than the night air. He tightened one arm around her again, then moved his fingers to her shoulder, running them lightly along the side of her neck.
Her breath caught as she leaned her head against his arm. “We’re out in the open.”
“Yep.” He touched his lips to the place where her neck joined her shoulder, letting his breath warm the cool skin.
“Anyone could come by.”
“They haven’t yet, so far as I’ve seen.” He put one hand on her shoulder again, turning her slightly so that they were facing each other. “Anyway, it’s dark over here in the shade.”
For a moment, she gazed up at him, her blue eyes luminous in the dimness, and then he brought his mouth to hers, pulling her tight against his body. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers sliding through his hair, as he plunged into her mouth, tasting, feeling. The warm slide of her teeth, her tongue, th
e hot wet depth of her.
Then she pulled back again, eyes troubled. “I said we wouldn’t do this. I meant it. It’s not a good idea.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his riotous body to settle down. Not a good idea? Says who? But the answer to that was obvious. She was sitting next to him.
“I heard about Colin Brooks,” he said slowly. “I’m not him.” Oh, yeah, that was a great argument. But it was way too late to take it back.
Bec pulled away from him, her jaw firming. “Colin was an out-of-towner who wanted something from me—a successful brewery, at least for a while. From where I’m sitting, you look a lot alike.”
Wyatt gritted his teeth and prayed for patience. “I’m not hiding anything from you, Bec. You know who I am. You know why I’m here. I haven’t lied to you. And I won’t.”
She stared up at him for a long moment. “What do you want from me, Wyatt?”
At least that made him smile, sort of. “You mean it’s not obvious? I want to make love to you. We’ve got something going here. I’d like to carry it through.” He risked cupping her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly across her cheekbone.
She blinked, running her tongue across her lower lip. He thought her breath sped up slightly. All good signs.
“Unless I’ve read it wrong. If I have, if you’re not interested, you can tell me to take a hike. No harm, no foul.” Except for his aching body and the numerous cold showers in his future.
She stared up at him again, then nodded. “I’m interested. God help me.”
He swallowed hard. Do not blow this, Montgomery. You will not get another chance.
He dipped his head again, moving his lips to hers, feeling the tense grasp of her hands upon his shoulders. After a moment, she turned her head, changing the angle so that he could move deeper. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, and she moved her hands on either side of his face, holding him steady while she plundered.
His cock hardened to something painful, and he leaned back against the picnic table, opening his legs around her. One of her hands dropped to his chest, pulling at the edge of his T-shirt, sliding underneath to rub across his nipples. Black dots danced in front of his eyes. It seemed impossible for him to harden any more, and yet he just had. He pulled her closer still.
She drew back slightly, blue eyes darkening. “We can’t do this here. It’s too close to the road.”
He stared at her, trying to get his dazed mind to function again. Then he shrugged. “Then we go deeper.”
Oh yeah. Deeper is definitely called for.
He stood, grabbing ahold of her hand to pull her toward an isolated table in the deep shade of a spruce grove. The dim light of the setting sun gleamed through the dense trees, giving a faint glow of reflected radiance.
Bec stared up at him again, wide-eyed. “Here?”
“Right here.” He nodded. “Definitely.”
He pulled her T-shirt loose from her shorts, running his hands across the warm, smooth skin of her abdomen up to the lace of her bra, then underneath to feel the weight of her breasts, the hard jut of her nipples. Her breath came faster as she leaned toward him again, running her teeth across the top of his collarbone.
He pulled the edge of her T-shirt up and over her head, then unfastened the bra and dropped it onto the table behind her. Her body glowed white in the dimness of the grove, her eyes closing as he moved his lips in a line along her breastbone, then leaned closer to take one nipple in his mouth.
The feel of the pebbling areola against his tongue went to his head like lager, and the spots swam before his eyes again. He brought his hand to her other breast, taking the nipple between his fingers and pinching lightly to make it peak. Bec moaned faintly, her fingers tangling in his hair.
Now. Got to be now. The words throbbed in his brain like a pulse, and he grabbed her T-shirt, spreading it across the end of the picnic table.
“What?” She glanced up at him, her eyes slightly dazed.
“No splinters,” he said, lifting her up until she sat upon the edge herself. He took hold of the button on her shorts while he dug through his pocket with the other hand. Please, God, let the condom be easy to get to. He had a feeling he wouldn’t last long enough for an extended search.
Bec leaned back on her elbows, staring up at him as he pulled down the zipper on her shorts, then pulled off both shorts and underwear so she was naked beneath him. He ran his fingers through her folds, feeling the wetness, the heat.
Bec’s breath came out in a sigh before she raised herself slightly, reaching for him. He stood still as she unbuttoned his jeans, then pulled down the zipper. His erection strained against his shorts until she pulled them down, setting him free.
He watched her for a heartbeat, the dark rose of her nipples against the glowing white of her skin, beautiful in the dim light of the grove.
“Are you okay with this?” he managed, although he didn’t know what he’d do if she said no. Probably drop to his knees and beg.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He tore open the condom with his teeth and smoothed it on in record time, then leaned forward, his hands on either side of her body. She reached for him, guiding him toward her opening, and he was moving inside, feeling the heat of her body engulf him.
Briefly, he managed to stay still, letting himself feel. But the urge to move was irresistible. He leaned forward as she did, taking her mouth again as his tongue moved in rhythm with the rest of him. Sweet, sweet, sweet. The word echoed through his mind as he moved. Bec was like a drug. Intoxicating, mesmerizing. The more he had, the more he wanted.
She moaned beneath him, and he felt her heels against his back, pushing him hard. The pressure built against his spine, and he plunged deeper, bringing his fingers to her clit and running his thumb across the head.
“Oh, so good,” she murmured beneath him. And then her heels pressed even harder against him, driving him deeper still. He felt the beginning of her climax, the flexing of her inner muscles, as his own completion began to move through his body. He heard her cry as he plunged with the first wave of orgasm, without rhythm, his body jerking against her. Lost to everything but him and her and the moment they became one.
Then he was leaning over her, resting his forehead against hers, his body supported on his forearms. Say something. But he didn’t know what to say, and his brain wasn’t exactly functioning. Had he ever been rendered totally witless by sex before? He thought not.
Something to think about once your brain is up to speed again.
“That was…a wild ride,” he murmured, trying to force his thoughts into some kind of coherence. He still felt as if he were moving through fog.
She brought her hand to his cheek, leaning up to kiss him lightly. “It was that.”
“Are you okay?” He was pretty sure it had been good for her, but he was still foggy. And it seemed like a good thing to ask, given all the many scruples she’d had before they’d finally come together.
“I’m fine.” She moved slightly beneath him. “I should probably get dressed, though.”
“You should?” He couldn’t see why she’d want to do that when they were both so comfortable.
“Because I don’t have any clothes on,” she said softly. “And we’re outside. And I really don’t want someone to show up for a picnic and find us.”
“Oh.” He finally pushed himself out of the fog and into reality. Into the dim light of the spruce grove, the cold air on his ass, and the warm woman beneath him. If she moves, it’ll be over. I don’t want it to be over yet. “You’re sure about this?”
She grinned up at him. “I’m sure.” She rolled slightly so that she wasn’t beneath him anymore, then reached for her underwear.
He tried desperately to think of some way to keep her curled against him. “We could head for my hotel.”
She glanced back, her jaw suddenly firm again, and he immediately wished he could have the last ten seconds back. Fucking Colin probably brought her to
his hotel. Fucking Colin probably stayed in the fucking penthouse. “It’s a nice place. We could have a drink at the bar.”
“I don’t think so.” Her voice sounded flat. “I need to get home.” She turned away from him again to pick up her bra.
“I didn’t mean…” He closed his eyes for a moment.
Get it right this time, jerk-off.
“You didn’t mean what?” She pulled the bra straps over her shoulders, then fiddled with the catch.
He brushed her hands aside, fastening the bra for her. “I just want to spend more time with you, Bec. It doesn’t have to be at a hotel. Hell, we could go to the most brightly lit coffee shop in town if you want. I’ll spring for an espresso.”
She gave him a dry smile as she pulled on her shorts. “A coffee shop is kind of public.”
“Public is fine. We can talk. We can do whatever you want. It’s your call.”
She moved off the picnic table, then turned to pick up her T-shirt. He figured he had around thirty seconds before she walked away, and they’d never have sex again. “Whatever you want,” he repeated.
She stood still, her head bowed. Then she smiled at him again, and his heart did a strange kind of dance step. “What I want is to go home. But you can come along with me. We didn’t finish the pizza yet, after all.”
“Right.” He grabbed the box. “It’s a sin to waste good food. And we could always have more later.”
Bec shook her head, smiling again. “Don’t push your luck, Montgomery. Just bring the beer.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly. “I can do that.”
Chapter Twelve
Bec made it to work the next day on time, but it was a near thing. Wyatt woke when her alarm went off, and he didn’t want her to get up. And then she didn’t want to get up herself. And then they both had to move fast when she finally caught sight of the clock after not getting up.
She hadn’t expected him to stay. She had the feeling he hadn’t expected to, either. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole thing that was happening between them, whatever it was. The sex was terrific. Wyatt was a nice guy. An honest guy.
