Page 64 of The Witness

His chuckle caught me by surprise, and I wrinkled my forehead. “What?”

“Is that New Kids on the Block?” He jutted his chin at my threadbare shirt.

“Ah, yes.” I wrapped the cardigan around me to cover the scandalized pop icons and my dangerously hard nipples.

“I think I had this fantasy in junior high school. Will you let me get to second base?” He tried to slip a hand under the hem of my shirt. I scooted out of his reach. My cheeks were hot with a combination of laughter and mortification.

“Oh no. Do not defile the New Kids. Make your bagel. We have places to go, and I want to get dressed before Simon gets here with his team and the new back door.”

“I’m not finished with you. With us.” He’d turned serious, searching my face for any trace of doubt or misunderstanding.

“Good, me either. I want to see what happens to us in real life.” I gave him a wide, genuine smile that made me feel a little like a clown, but it couldn’t be helped. It had been a long time since I’d dated; maybe this time it would be fun. Or at least not a complete shit show.

“Me too.” He pulled a bagel from the bag and the last hint of tension in his shoulders eased. His smile was almost as goofyas mine. It was embarrassing for two people at our age to be so smitten with each other.

I skipped around the kitchen getting plates, knives, and a cutting board. The deranged clown smile stayed on my face. We chatted about nothing more important than the weather and how good it was to be home as we built our perfect breakfast sandwiches.

Wow, these were amazing bagels and some of the best cured salmon I’d ever had. Totally worth all the hype.

I was chewing the last bite when the next knock on the door came. “What time is morning for you people?”

“I’m in the gym at five with Derek most mornings.” He shrugged and popped a wayward caper off his plate and into his mouth.

“The gym? At the office?” My night owl tendencies ingrained by years in the restaurant business rebelled at the thought.

“Yep. It’s a great way to clear your head. Although this morning I was in line for bagels instead.”

“A delicious trade. I approve.” I stood and tugged my shorts down and wrapped the cardigan over my chest. This outfit wasn’t exactly how I envisioned welcoming people to my house this morning, but the bagels and Michael were distracting.

“Hold up. You change. I’ll let the team in.” Michael’s eyes were lingering on my bare legs. I shifted from foot to foot, feeling prickles of awareness race over my exposed skin.

“Okay, I’ll disarm the system from the bedroom.” I sounded breathless. God, I was ridiculously attracted to him.

“Perfect.” He stood up and crowded into my space, his hands slipped under my shirt. I gasped as his thumbs grazed my nipples. “One day, I want to push up this shirt and suck on your tits until you forget your name. Seriously, every hot girl in eighth grade had this shirt.”

The knock at the door came again, and Simon called my name. Michael moaned.

“Hold that thought, you teenaged horn-ball.” Laughing, I twisted free of his hands before I ended up bent over the countertop. His touch made me forget about all the responsible adult things on my agenda, and there were too many of them to ignore.

I turned off the alarm and rushed through getting dressed. All the while, I listened to the rumble of male voices coming from outside my bedroom. It was strange to hear men in this house. For years, this home had been filled with the feminine sounds of me and Hailey. Our laughter, our music, and our voices.

When I emerged dressed and as ready as I’d ever be to face the mess at Viande the men were hard at work adding the finishing touches to the security system. The new back door that would replace the old one in my bathroom lay in the middle of the living room floor.

“Who picked that?” I pointed at the beautiful mid-century-style hurricane-impact glass door.

“Is it okay?” Simon asked.

“Gorgeous and way too expensive.” I’d priced doors like that; they were around ten grand installed. It was why I still had the old one.

“Don’t worry about it. Smith said to buy the best.” Simon ducked his head and nodded to one of his helpers to pick up the other end so they could carry my beautiful new door through the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“He’s got good taste,” I told Michael, who’d moved to stand next to me.

“Simon is an interesting guy.”

We watched Simon and his helper disappear into my room. I’d bet my new door that Simon’s story was as intriguing as the history of the other employees at the Smith Agency.

“Want to get going to the restaurant? We can take my bike.” He temped me with a slow, sexy smile that had me rethinking all the times I said bikers and tats didn’t get me hot and bothered.

---