Page 21 of Never Let You Go

But I can’t tell him who I really am in relation to Red Barn. He made it clear he despises the company. He’s definitely not going to help its next owner. The minute he knows I’m really here to guarantee my position at the top of Red Barn Baking, I’ll be out the door.

Which means I’ll have lost everything.

Not just a job, not just a future.

I’ll have lost the only family I can claim.

Yet I’m torn. Forget the physical attraction. He’s a great guy. I want him to like me. I’ve never had that depth of connection with someone I barely know.

And it’s not just Christopher; Skye was an open book to me, and even Sophie, the sweet librarian, was so genuinely welcoming in her own way. How do you open up to people while keeping a big part of your life a secret?

It’s not something I can solve right now. I’ll have to navigate this at is comes.

Right now, I just need to get in the shower.

Then, I’ll finish unpacking.

Little things. Focus on the little things, Alex.

I turn the faucet on, and with no warning, it explodes, water spurting horizontally in icy gushes, soaking me head to toe. I shriek, and shriek louder when I reach into the shower to cut the water off.

My tank top is soaked, my bare legs dripping water. Before I can grab a towel, the door flies open, and Christopher barges in.

“You okay?” he asks, out of breath. “What the hell?” he says, looking around the room, then at my half-naked, dripping self. His breathing hitches, and his eyes drop the length of me. He averts his gaze. “You got the order wrong, Pierce. First, take your clothes off. Then, get in the shower.”

I grab a towel and bend over to wipe my legs, but from the look he gives me, I stop and wrap myself in it.

“Seriously, what happened? You scared the shit out of me and Skye.”

Skye is standing outside my bathroom door, wide-eyed.

“The shower’s not working,” I say.

Before I can explain, he’s reaching in and turning the faucet on.

“No!” I gasp. Water gushes over the two of us.

“Shit,” he hisses and turns the faucet off, but too late. “Damn, it’s cold,” he says, still leaning inside the shower.

Skye is giggling. I start laughing too.

Then, Christopher turns from the shower, and my legs weaken. His T-shirt clings to his torso, molding his impressive pecs. He shakes the water from his hair, then his eyes fall on me. He’s hot as sin, towering over me in the small bathroom. I can’t keep my eyes off him, all of him.

“Skye!” A feminine voice sounds from downstairs. “Time for school! Where are you?”

Christopher glances at his daughter. “Go get ready with Aunt Grace, honey. I’ll be right down.”

He grabs one of my towels and buries his face in it, then rubs his hair. The V-shape of his torso leads my gaze down to his midsection. He dabs his shirt then swears, folds the towel on the sink, and pulls his shirt above his head.

For the moments that he’s stuck with his arms above his head, fighting to get out of the wet fabric, I feast on the sight of his chiseled abs, wondering how they’d feel under my hands. Under my lips. Over my belly.

His dark hair forms a happy trail, leading my gaze to his jeans hanging low over his hips.

I’m all warmed up now, cold water forgotten, and the wetness between my legs has nothing to do with a broken shower.

“It’s freezing,” he groans as he emerges from his shirt.

Judging from the bulge in his pants, not everything in him is cold.

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