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My thoughts drifted over to Noah. I wasn’t going to let him get in my way. This opportunity was too fantastic to let anything ruin it, including Grumpy McBroodypants. I was just going to ignore him and focus on all the work that was to be done. It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was or how he looked when he peeled off his shirt to work. I wasn’t going to let him, or his attitude, derail me.
Even if the image of his body slick with sweat was seared into my mind. Along with the way my body instantly reacted when he tipped a bottle of water onto his head and let it pour down over his hair and onto his chest. If there had ever been a question in my mind of what a panty-dropping moment was, that cleared it all up for me.
I tried not to let myself dwell on those thoughts, but it was no use. As infuriating as he was, he got me all worked up, and I couldn’t help myself. I slid my hand down into my panties and found myself already wet. Closing my eyes, I let my mind fill with all the thoughts and fantasies I’d been trying to push away.
It was undeniable that Noah was sexy, and I had been so busy, I hadn’t gotten off lately. It was purely a release of tension. That was good for everybody, every now and then, right?
9
Noah
The talk with Derek was still fresh in my mind Monday morning. What I could remember of it, at least. There was a fair bit of drinking and then joking near the end there. We had a few too many beers but had ended our day with a mutual understanding that I was being a bit of an ass, and he was being a bit of an ass, and we both needed to be a little bit less of an ass to each other. I was good with that in a general way. It was the stuff about not being so rude to Ally that was making it a little more difficult.
Still, I had vowed to treat her better than I had been. The least I could do was act like she was just another client, someone I had to deal with and treat with respect even if I didn’t care what their opinion of me was or what I thought about their ideas.
Yet, when Ally opened the door to come in, all the stuff we had talked about her came back in waves. Especially how I had been so screwed up about Monica’s death that I was letting it affect how I treated other people. How that might have bled over into how I was treating Ally.
That also brought up the memory of what I had done when I got home and what I had tried to do all weekend. The thoughts of Ally, and how they seemed to insert themselves at times that I really did not want them, made me realize that I was absolutely taking things out on her. More was going on in my head than I was willing to admit, and I needed to get things straight. That began with not giving in to how I wanted to act when she walked into the room.
I straightened up and stood in the kitchen, holding my coffee as she made her way in. She was dressed in chef’s whites and what looked like leggings underneath. Her hair was tied back in a tight knot on top of her head, and she carried a black bag that I assumed contained her knives. She nodded in my direction, and I cleared my throat.
“Good morning, Ally,” I said in a perfectly pleasant tone of voice.
“Good… morning,” she replied, hesitating in what I assumed was confusion. She crossed the room and stopped at the coffee pot. She slipped the backpack off her back and pulled out a travel mug and poured a large amount of black coffee into it, then screwed the top on tight. Occasionally during the process, she looked over her shoulder at me where I stood, sipping my own coffee. I cleared my throat, trying again.
“Duncan brought donuts again,” I said. “They’re in the tasting room. Might want to hurry before Derek takes all the good ones.”
“Thanks,” she said, seeming like she was going to say something else. I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to start a fight or for me to be irrationally pissed off at some other thing she wanted to nitpick about, so before she could say anything, I left the room, heading in the direction of the stockroom where Duncan was.
I sipped on the coffee I brought with me and found Duncan carrying a few tools into the stockroom. He was whistling happily, a trait about him that sometimes annoyed me and yet still endeared him to me. The whistling could get on my nerves, but at the same time, it meant Duncan was happy and enjoying himself, and when that was true, he was always a lot of fun to work with.
