Page 29 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
He doesn’t do it intentionally. Not the way my boss used to purposely distract me for a quickie in his office. Before I discovered he was engaged. Cole’s genuine interest in my baking process stirs desire inside me like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Each time his strong hands measure ingredients so perfectly, heat warms between my legs. And the way he mixes batter like it ain’t nothing, reminds me how easily he can hoist me on a table.
I love baking.
But I adore watching Cole bake.
And it’s hard to think about batter and frosting when all I want to do is kiss him. But we keep it platonic until the very last cookie is baked, cooled, and stored in containers. It’s almost midnight when I lock the kitchen and we drag our feet down the hallway to the elevator. More like Cole drags his feet. I’m pumped after an evening of doing what I love best.
“Thanks for your help today.”
He stifles a yawn. “It’s for the kids.”
“You an early to bed, early to rise, kinda guy?”
“I am.” His eyelids are heavy.
“Too bad, I was going to take a shower and hit the bar.” I poke inside my purse for my room key card.
“I’m up for a drink.” He straightens and slaps his cheeks.
I laugh. “You’re half asleep.”
“Nothing a cold shower won’t fix.”
“I can’t find my key card.” The elevator door opens. Guests get off and others load on.
“It might’ve dropped out in my truck.”
I dump the contents of my purse on a small table and sift through. No key card.
“Let’s go check my truck.”
The December Texas night air is cool. The parking lot is dark with a light pole here or there illuminating small areas. I follow Cole to the passenger’s side of his truck.
“Could they park any closer?” We stare at the car almost touching his side door. There’s no way either of us are going to fit in there.
“I’ll let you in the driver’s side.”
He opens the back door and I climb inside. The dim light above isn’t very helpful. I run my fingers along the bench seat feeling for my key card.
“Nothing.”
“Maybe it fell under the seat.” Cole waits outside the door.
I stretch my arm to check the rubber mat on the floor. I can’t reach far enough. I’m forced to lie sideways on the seat and reach.
“I can’t feel anything. Or see anything.”
“Here.” The truck dips when Cole climbs inside. His knee digs into the seat, and his leg rubs against my side. My body warms and tingles and sends heat rushing down below.
What the hell do I think is going to happen? We start humping like wild rabbits in the back seat of his truck? We’re not damn teenagers. And we’re both grungy with more ingredients on us than we baked. Although this back seat is rather roomy. Even for a girl my size and Cole’s body of muscles.
He extends his long arm and the light from his cell flashlight illuminates the floor. “You see it?” His rough voice grumbles.
“Ummm...” I blink back to my task and strain my eyes. “Yeah ... I see it.” I press one hand on the floor and reach under the back seat with the other. “I got it.” I shimmy back and bump into him. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Just give me a second to back up.”
