Page 55 of Sterling Heat

Already knowing where his comment is leading, I cut him off. “Rena does not have a crush on me.”

I will not be telling my brothers about the flour incident, or the liberty Rena took to frost my body before I cut her off. Or how she inappropriately swiped at my ass. I really need to talk to her about boundaries.

“Really?” Knox’s brows lift. He mimics a chef’s kiss with his fingers before stating, “You’re a bagel, and she wants to schmear on you.”

“Ew,” Clay groans.

“Watch yourself.” I point a finger at my brother, who captures it, and holds hard, like those finger traps we had when we were kids.

“Her soufflé wants to be topped by your crème.” Knox pulls my finger toward his mouth but I’m strong enough to tug free.

“That’s enough,” I bark, causing Knox to burst into laughter. He got me where he wanted. All riled back up.

I try to be sly as I glance at Rena who is watching my brothers and me. She catches my gaze and smiles, but I look away. I don’t think of her like that. I don’t want her thinking of me period.

“She’s my employee.” I don’t dare call her a friend. We aren’t. We make baked goods together. She’s getting a second chance at life at the bakery, like me.

“Maybe you should sign her check.”

I’m off my stool so fast, Knox’s arms flare as I push him off his. Clay is quick, catching my brother before he hits the ground while cursing at him. “What the fuck?”

My heart hammers. My fists tighten. Maybe a fight is what I need to dispel this energy I can’t seem to control. Knox is asking to be whupped, even if he is my brother.

“Do you need to head to the stable?” Clay’s question recalls when we were kids, and the testosterone grew thick in our home. A punching bag hung in one of the stalls in the old stable. Unfortunately, our father preferred to use his children instead of the bag. The stable became off limits to Dad once our mother died. She’d been the one who loved horses and we didn’t keep any after her death.

The stable became a place I both loathed and loved.

Eventually, I found something else to take the edge off, but I’ll never be going back to drugs.

Maggie is suddenly at our table. “I don’t want no trouble in here.” As the owner of Milton’s Roadhouse, she scowls like a disgruntled mother. Hands on her hips, her tone is firm. “Do I need to kick the lot of you out of here?”

She tips her head toward the entrance.

“We’d never cause you trouble, Maggie.” Knox flirts, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his side a little too tightly.

“You better not.” She huffs before spinning on her cowboy boot-clad feet and strutting away from us across the hardwood floor.

Knox slides his arm to my neck, putting me in a choke hold. I swat at the back of his head to release me.

Clay admonishes both of us. “Can you two act like you’re nearly forty, and not behave like fourteen-year-olds?”

“Okay, Dad,” Knox teases, releasing me at the same time I push at his belly.

“Fuck,” I grumble, running a hand over my hair and feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. Without a thought, I pull it free from my back pocket and check the caller ID.

“Sugar?” I’m out of breath as I answer.

Glancing at Knox and Clay is a mistake as they both raise brows and stare at me with wide eyes. I give them a single-finger salute.

“Sebastian, am I interrupting something?”

I heavily exhale and rub a hand through my hair again. “No. What’s up?” I’m going for casual disinterest, but the truth is, this is the first time I’ve heard her voice in almost two weeks, and I’m far from cool.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I don’t know who else to call.”

“Enya.” I groan, already irritated by another apology. “What’s wrong?”

“I heard a noise, but now that I have you on the phone, it’s probably nothing and I’m being silly.”