Page 7 of Stick Play

Heat rushes into her face, and my heart leaps. Okay, so maybe she’s not as unaffected by me as she lets on. I have no idea why that gives me pleasure. I know I need to stay away from her.

Yet here I am.

She looks to the left and then to the right when someone raises their hand to signal. When her gaze zeroes back in on me, it’s like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. “You can cook, for real?”

“Yes, I can. For real. I had a lot of responsibility as a child.” Now why the hell did I tell her that?

A wave of something that looks like sympathy moves over her eyes, before she frowns in worry again.

“It’s café cooking, Gina. Not a Michelin star restaurant. I got this.”

She gives a curt nod. “Okay, I’m backed up in the kitchen.” She takes my hand in hers and pulls me into the kitchen. “The orders are here.” She shows me the tickets lined up. “Once an order is ready, just ring this bell.”

“Got it.” She hesitates for a second. I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her. “I got it, Gina.”

“Okay,” she breathes out and steps toward the swinging door. Before she leaves, she looks at me over her shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, she leaves and I pick up the oldest order and start on it right away. Breakfast foods are easy. If I had to make gourmet meals, I might not be such a great help. I work methodically and start putting the orders up fast, and each time I ring the bell and Gina shows up with a grateful smile on her face, it makes me want to do even more for her. But I know she’s never going to let me. She’s damn independent, and while I hate that, I also love that about her.

She’s definitely not the kind of girl to use others to get ahead in this world. She relies only on herself and again, while I hate that, I also love that.

We work long and hard through the morning rush, and when it slows before the lunch crowd, I tug on my coat, hat and mitts, and go out to clear her walkway. Every once in a while, I glance into the café to find her eyes on me, and yeah, okay, I kind of like her looking. Jesus, I really am a ridiculous hormonal teenager with a crush.

As soon as I finish clearing the snow, I head back in, shrug out of my wet coat, hat and mitts and slip my apron back on. Gina gives me a quick rundown on how to make the lunch food and goes back to take orders.

It’s late afternoon by the time she turns the sign on the window from open to closed. As I put the last dish in the dishwasher, she comes into the kitchen, a tired but happy look on her face. She’s a giver, likes what she does and I’m happy about that.

“Done.” She unties her apron and hangs it onto the hook. I wipe my hands on the dish towel to keep them occupied as she tugs the elastic from her hair and lets it splay over her shoulders.

“I should go.”

“No.”

That one word, spoken so fast and abruptly stops me in my tracks. “What?”

“Stay for dinner. Let me cook for you. It’s the least I can do for all your help today. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

I roll one shoulder. “You’re tough and would have been just fine, but I’m glad I could lighten your load.”

“Okay let me…” Her voice falls off. “Wait, maybe you already have plans tonight. You are on break this weekend.”

“I don’t have plans.”

She crinkles up her nose, and pushes her dark hair from her face. “Okay, let me do something to thank you for today, and I still owe you for fixing my fridge and air conditioning last summer.”

As I consider last summer, heat zings through my body and strokes my dick. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Her grin is mischievous and holds a measure of playfulness that arouses the fuck out of me. “And well, what we did afterward…”

I gulp as she alludes to what we did on her kitchen table. My body tightens and I tug off the apron and set it on the counter. “What are you getting at, Gina?”

She glances around the clean kitchen and smiles. “Just that you’ve done a lot for me last summer. In both of my kitchens.”

I clear my throat as my dick jumps, anxious to visit her upstairs kitchen again. “You weren’t the only one who benefitted.”

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