Page 69 of Tough Nut to Crack

I'd commend him for helping her, but it's the look in his eyes when he straightens back up and watches her walk in my direction with the same tilt to his head that I always have when I watch her walk away.

"Do you want to die on a Monday?" I growl at the man.

"It's just breakfast," Riley says as she pauses at the bottom of the porch stairs. "I didn't think—"

"Not you, baby. Ronnie, don't you have work to do?"

The man snaps his eyes from her ass to look at me, his cheeks pinking at being caught.

I get the appeal, believe me, I do, but this man is a walking hard-on. I think he'd bed anything that walks.

"Sure, boss," he says, placing the bag near her feet on the steps. "Apologies, ma'am."

"Apologies for what? No, don't go. I have breakfast for everyone."

"All of us?" Ronnie asks, his voice how I would expect a child to sound on Christmas morning when looking at the tree surrounded by gifts they didn't expect.

"Go round 'em up," Riley says. "I can serve at the picnic tables."

Ronnie bounces off, and I swear the guy is fucking skipping to let the rest of the crew know they have breakfast waiting for them.

"I guess I should've asked," Riley says when she looks back in my direction.

"It's fine," I say, wishing my crew was already gone so I could be alone with her. "Let me help you."

I descend the stairs and grab the handles of the bag Ronnie brought up before turning toward the picnic tables.

The two tables under the copse of trees to the left of the front porch are mostly used when we're working out of the shop, which often happens because we custom build a lot of the things we put in people's homes like cabinets, built-in features, and furniture.

Riley places the food on the table before reaching for the bag in my hands, and I swear I feel an electrical pulse arc from her fingertips to my hand when we brush slightly. I'm losing my mind over this woman, and she seems quite content to just glance up at me and smile as she pulls plates, napkins, and plastic cutlery from the bag.

I open my mouth to ask her if we could talk, but the guys from my crew practically swarm us, lining up behind me like they haven’t eaten in a month.

I must sigh my frustration out loud because her eyes lift from the stack of paper plates in her hands to my face. She gives me a gentle smile, and it somehow calms me a little, telling me I'll get my chance.

She doesn't seem annoyed or nervous, as I would assume she would if she were here to tell me to get my shit out of her house. I know the possibility of her asking me to leave has nothing to do with me being displaced. Although I won't have a functioning kitchen, my house is perfectly fine now to move back into, but the idea of more distance between us makes me want to scream and kick like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

"I can do that," Ethan offers when Riley pulls out a spatula to start serving. The man looks up at me before continuing, "If you two want to talk or something."

The man is going to get the biggest raise or, at a minimum, will be named employee of the damn year.

Riley swallows, a hint of that nervousness I didn't see before clouding her eyes a little before giving him a weak smile and handing over the spatula.

When she steps away from the group of men, I could easily guide her into the house, but flat, soft surfaces being at our fingertips probably isn't the best idea. As much as I'd like to strip her down and spend the day worshipping her body, I really do have a list of jobs to work through today.

"Save some for us or else," she warns them all before stepping up in front of me.

Instead of directing us toward the house, I guide her around the trees so we're out of sight of the crew. I can still hear them making obscene noises as each one tastes her food. I'd think they were exaggerating their pleasure just to make her uncomfortable, but I've tasted that particular casserole before, and my tongue is tingling with the mere thought of shoveling some of it into my mouth.

She turns to face me, and suddenly I'm nervous. I've said things in the past that weren't received the way I wanted them to be, and that makes me cautious about doing it again because of the threat of driving her away completely.

Worry fades away when, before I can open my mouth to apologize for whatever it is that has put days of distance between us, Riley steps in closer. In the next breath, her arms are around my waist as she lifts up onto the tips of her toes to press her lips to mine.

My brain fritzes for a second, making her pull back slightly with a look of pain in her eyes as if she made a move and I'm rejecting her.

"Get back here," I grumble and lock my arms around her waist.

This kiss feels like the first one, causing an arc of electricity down my spine, letting it simmer in the deepest parts of me before radiating out to every cell in my body.

---