Page 21 of The Rescue

“We better get upstairs before the pies get cold,” I grab her suitcase.

She follows me up the stairs, and I put her suitcase in her room. We head to the living room, where she puts the plates down on the dining table, and I grab the salad out of the fridge. I join her at the table, and we dig into our meals. Her phone rings on the table, she glances down at her phone and frowns. I try not to peer down at the screen, I don’t want her to think I’m invading her privacy.

“Do you need to get that?” I point my fork towards her phone.

“Nope,” she smiles at me and flips over her phone.

I find this odd, but I don’t want to pry.

She cuts a piece of pie and puts it in her mouth, she closes her eyes and makes a satisfied moan. My stomach dips, and my cock tingles. If she moans like that when tasting my food, I can’t help but think what she’d sound like tasting my cock. Jesus, what is she doing to me? I’ve been so good at keeping the thought of women and anything sexual out of my mind for so long, and as soon as she came rushing through the door of Sweet Treats that day, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about doing dirty things to her.

“Rabbie, I don’t know how you do it. Everything you make tastes amazing.”

I find it hard to accept any praise, purely because I was told I was never good enough most of my childhood. My nan changed that though, she really tried to change the way I think about myself by constantly reminding me how amazing I am.

I swallow the bitterness of the past, and look at Crystal giving me genuine praise, and a little seed of acceptance starts to form.

“Thank you, scones are really my speciality but they’re super easy to make.”

“You guys have scones. We have pumpkin pie.”

“Pumpkin pie? Sounds like it would be good with mash and gravy.”

Crystal chokes on her mouthful of pie and bursts into a fit of laughter, the sound of her laugh is infectious and sweet. I smile at her, confused at what could be so funny.

“Sugar, pumpkin pie isn’t savoury, it’s sweet.”

“You Americans are backwards, pies are savoury and pudding is sweet.” I laugh along with her.

“Now I know it’s a dessert, I don’t know if it sounds so nice.” I scrunch up my nose.

“Hey, don’t knock until you’ve tried it,” she winks at me.

I know what I’d like to try, and it isn’t pumpkin pie.

“What’s so special about it?”

She closes her eyes and smiles before she answers my question, when she opens her eyes her green eyes twinkle.

“It’s so nostalgic in so many ways, it’s my childhood. It’s a crisp fall day. It’s Thanksgiving day and my three older brothers are teasing me. It’s home.”

This is the first glimpse I’ve got of her life in America, and I’m shocked to see her speak fondly of it. A difference from the first day we properly met when she practically bit my head off for mentioning it.

“Sounds like you miss home.”

She leans back in her chair, and looks like she’s thinking about what to say next. “I miss the ranch, and my brothers. The small town, and certain people not so much.”

I don’t understand what her complex is with small towns. She hasn’t really said anything about Crossmackie, but I hope she likes it here.

“You have three older brothers? What was that like growing up?”

I don’t know why I’m so curious about her life, she’s mysterious in so many ways that it’s luring. I’m the one who has to keep reminding myself that this is a business relationship, that I’ve paid her to do a job for me and I should be professional and not complicate things. But damn, she’s so intriguing. It’s like reading a good book, I find myself wanting to know more.

She shifts in her seat and I think maybe she will shut me down or be vague, but then her face lightens and the corners of her lips turn up.

“Yep. God, they were annoying to grow up with. Always giving me noogies, or one of them would pin me to the ground whilst the other two would burp or fart in my face. I love them so much, they’re fiercely loyal and protective of me, I miss them a lot.”

The smile disappears from her face, and she pushes the remaining food around her plate.

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