Page 125 of Small Town Firsts
He lowered his mouth to hover over mine. “Unless we want to give the cleaning crew a concert, I’ll take a kiss.”
I arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”
He grinned as he palmed my ass and bypassed my mouth to nip at my ear. “You aren’t quiet, Sunshine.” He tugged harder, then nipped at the pulse point of my neck. “And I love it. I love hearing you sigh and groan for me. Say my name in that annoyed tone that says you’re close.”
I reached my other hand down to cup the front of his jeans. He hissed out a breath and hardened under my touch. “I’m not the only noisy one, pal.”
He leaned back and bit my lower lip. “Because I’m a Viking.”
I grinned against his mouth. “My Viking.”
His eyes flared, then darkened. “Always yours.” He covered my mouth and possessed every inch.
I lifted my arms to his shoulders and went onto my toes to get closer. Would this ever get old? Would it ever cool off?
“Stop thinking,” he said against my mouth and chased my tongue to drag me back down into where everything made sense.
I didn’t have to wonder how much he wanted me. The proof was always between us. And always seemed to be growing.
A man cleared his throat outside the door. “Sorry to interrupt, guys.”
My eyes widened, but instead of scrambling away, we both laughed. “Sorry, Beckett,” I said on a laugh.
“It’s cool. We all gotta find our moments. You’re not the first one to make out in a storeroom, Key.”
Ronan grinned and shifted himself before turning around. He wiped his mouth. “Been a long few days.”
“You’re telling me. Unfortunately, I need to talk to you guys about something.”
I frowned. The haze of our quick make out session instantly dissipated. “What’s wrong?”
Beckett nodded toward my office. “Let’s go in there.”
I grabbed my iPad on the way out and followed them into my barely used office. It was mostly just where I filed away paperwork and did payroll. It was a glorified closet full of extra uniforms, aprons, and a stash of keycards for the registers.
Beckett pulled the club chair out of the corner and sat down. I noticed a manila folder in his hand, and my stomach cramped.
“What’s going on?” I set my iPad down.
“I just pulled in when you sent me over your inventory. I was already on my way over since Ronan had put another order in for Firefly to be bottled yesterday.”
Ronan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, we’ve been bottling daily. Firefly is our signature, so I figured that would need the most cases.”
“And you’d be right. Except the numbers don’t match.”
The room started feeling very small. “What do you mean, they don’t match?”
Beckett handed me the folder.
My hand shook a little as I reached for it. “I did the numbers myself. Counted every one—twice.”
Beckett pulled off his hat and curved the brim of his cap.
I knew that gesture. That was his thinking move. When he was trying to figure out something that didn’t make sense.
The blood pounded in my head and I tried to focus on his voice. I looked down at the numbers, but they blurred and jumped as old fears crashed in on me.
“I believe you. I’m going to need you guys to count them again.” Beckett looked at me, then Ronan. “Maybe some ended up in your shed?”
