When he darted forward, I was pretty sure he was going to punch me. It would have made sense, at least in the limited way that anything about Chase made sense. It would have fit in with what I’d already learned about his personality, at least. So when he grabbed me by the shirt, I wasn’t surprised. Also not that shocked when he slammed me up against the shelves.
But when he kissed me? Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.
Holy shit, I thought,Tyler was right!
And then I thought,Priorities, idiot. Chase is kissing you!
Chase kissed like I imagined he fought—hard, heated, and dirty. His fingers gripped the front of my shirt tightly and he had to push up on his toes to reach me with the angle he had me shoved back against the flour bags at, but somehow he was the one in charge here. I mean, of course he was. I was still afraid that if I looked at him sideways he’d rip my jugular out.
That didn’t stop me from kissing him back, because Chase might be an antisocial asshole, but he was also just my type—lean, cute, and pushy as hell. You just knew that if Chase wanted your dick, he’d throw you on your back and ride it without a second thought, which was both mildly terrifying and all kinds of hot. I slid my hands around to his hips and held him there, widening my legs when he shoved a knee between my thighs.
“Asshole,” he muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to get the word out before diving back in.
I pulled away. “Hard fucking same.”
He bit my bottom lip hard enough to sting, and I wasn’t opposed. I tightened my grip, pulling him closer and kissing him hard enough that our teeth clacked together, and he let out a shocked noise.
The door to the walk-in creaked and then Tyler said, “Uh, Lee? Your mom’s here.” The door closed again, the sound echoing.
My back slammed against the flour sacks as Chase shoved me away, his face flaming scarlet. He glared at me, his brow creased and his chin jutting out like a challenge. Maybe he thought I was going to fire him or yell at him, but I was still in shock that one, he’d kissed me, and two, that it had been so much hotter than I’d imagined—and Ihadimagined it, whatever I’d told Tyler. Plus my main concern right now was getting rid of my inconvenient boner before going to talk to my mom.
I cleared my throat. “I should go.”
He nodded, eyeing me warily.
And then, for no reason I could tell you—except maybe stupidity and lust—I added, “We should do this again sometime.”
We should do this again sometime? What the fuck, Lee?
Chase stared at me for a second like he was wondering what the hell was wrong with me—and honestly, same—before he cocked an eyebrow at me, smirked, and said, “Yeah. Maybe.”
He grabbed his sandwich bag and pushed past me, pulling the release handle and leaving me standing there, half-hard, half-confused, and more turned on than I’d been in a hell of a long time.
And all while my mom was waiting for me.
I blew out a long breath and straightened my shirt and tried to look as though I hadn’t been making out with an employee. Then I strode out of the walk-in door, nodding at Tyler as I passed him.
“Are the straights okay?” he mimicked in a sing-song voice that didn’t sound anything like me. And then he burst out laughing, the dick.
Mom and Samwere inspecting the cakes, pastries, and cookies in the display case on the counter when I went out front to meet them. Mom was wearing her pink T-shirt with the name of the salon embroidered on it, so she must have come straight here from her shift. Sam was in her usual pajama pants and hoodie.
“This place looks great!” Mom exclaimed, straightening up as I came around from behind the counter and straight into one of her hugs. “Is that a cream horn? You never made cream horns at South Hill!”
“Because Henry didn’t want to order the molds,” I said, hugging her back.
“I love a cream horn,” Mom said.
“Mom, stop saying cream horn,” Sam said. She gave me a grin. “Henry was a dick. This place is much nicer. A goose tried to attack us outside the church when we parked, though.”
“That’s probably Lucille,” I said. “My boss, the mayor, owns her.”
“Mom, can we get a goose?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“What if we got a goose, and then I’d let you say cream horn as much as you wanted?”
“Still no,” Mom said. “What’s wrong with saying—ooh, I get it.”
