Page 16 of Broken Daddy

The building I’ve been wondering about—a slate gray barn-style monstrosity—is open, a rollaway wall giving me a full view of the inside.

It’s a shop of some kind.

Surprising. I tilt my head to the side, taking it in.

Some kind of winch system hangs high over an open floor, with table saws and other unidentifiable machinery lined up against one wall. The other wall houses tools of all shapes and sizes on an intricate, expensive-looking peg wall.

And then there’s Nate.

He stands at the table saw nearest the door, legs spread wide, hands firmly holding down a board of dark wood.

God, how I wish I was that wood…

His calloused hands move it smoothly toward the saw and that zinging, whirring sound fills the air again. Sawdust billows up around Nate, who’s wearing a set of protective glasses and a heavy apron.

The saw stops and he turns, the now split board held in either hand.

Our eyes meet.

He looks surprised to see me, and I’m too caught off guard to give him a friendly smile. Instead, I stand there like a complete idiot, hand still pressed between my breasts—where Nate’s gaze drops.

The barn can’t be more than thirty feet away from the pool patio, so he has agreatview of what I’m wearing. Or rather, what I’m not.

Thinking I was alone today, since Nate is usually locked up in his office or villain’s den or whatever he has going on at the back of the house, I’d thrown on a bikini I hadn’t worn in a few years. And boy, did it show.

As a chef, you’re constantly tasting what you’re cooking. And usually, you’re missing meals, too, so at the Fig, I was used to snacking on bacon or scallops or whatever was lying around. It definitely filled out my curves a bit, and the bikini fits tightly over them, the strings cutting into my hips, triangles of fabric barely covering my ass cheeks and tits.

Nate definitely gets an eyeful as we stand there staring at each other.

He clears his throat.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize you’d be using the pool today.”

“Oh, I don’t have to. I can—” My mind goes blank. Why am I trying to appease this man? I’ve never been like this, eager to obey, to get out of the way.

My thoughts wander back to the night at the gala when I was on my knees in front of him. I would’ve done whatever he said then, and now that I know just how good he is with his tongue, I’mmorethan willing to take orders from Nathan Sharpe.

“No, it’s your day off. Sorry I interrupted. This can wait.”

He carefully puts the wood aside and I catch a glimpse of what he must be working on. A dark wood kitchen island of some kind, with beautifully rounded corners.

Then his broad shoulders distract me and the way he braces his feet apart again as he works.

Plucking at the strings of my top distractedly, I turn back to the pool and try to concentrate on cooling off. But all of a sudden, I’mveryaware of Nate’s presence and the possibility that he’s watching.

Wondering if his eyes are on me, I strut over to the side of the pool where the stairs are and dip a toe in.

The water is perfect—lukewarm, heated by the afternoon sun. It’ll feel like silk on my skin and I shiver at the thought, my nipples suddenly tightening under the thin fabric of my top.

Conscious of the near wedgie I have going on—my ass now facing Nate’s workshop—I step into the pool up to my thighs, moaning quietly and lifting my hair into a high ponytail so it grazes my neck.

There’s a strangled sound from somewhere behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see Nate watching, his eyes dark and glued to my body.

My throat goes dry, but I manage to call out semi-confidently, “You look hot. Why don’t you come for a swim?”

My lips lift in a teasing smile, even as I wonder what the hell has gotten into me. Inviting my boss into the pool for a swim? While I’m practically busting out of this bikini?

Don’t forget that he’s your brother’s best friend,that annoying little voice reminds me.And your failed one-night stand.

---