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Where do I want him?
On the counter.
In my bed.
My heart races so fast it slams into my chest like it’s ready to make a run for it. A fire burns inside me from the sexy looks he’s giving me. And when he drops his dress shirt onto the chair at the kitchen table, still looking at me with desire, my skin brushes with heat. His shoulders are broad, his biceps so thick I wonder if I could wrap my fingers around them. And don’t even get me started on his eight-pack abs.
Is this even humanly possible? Maybe he’s not human. Because real men don’t look like River Westbrook. At least none of the men I’ve ever dated.
“Can you work on the cannoli?” I tip my head to the left, and his eyes follow. “There should be two dozen in each box.”
For a moment, my eyes wander to his bare chest. To the black slacks that hang so low from his narrow hips, I can see the V that traces down to his…
I stop myself from lingering for too long, but he’s perceptive. River must be used to women ogling him like this. It doesn’t hurt that he’s a famous hockey player.
A smile tugs at his mouth, as if knows I’d love to see him naked—because I would.
Could I be more obvious?
I’m thankful Ollie is behind me, humming a Christmas song, busy boxing another box of cookies. He lifts the tickets from the counter, shuffles them around to keep them in order. My brother has helped me with my side business in the past. No matter how many times he offers me money to get back on my feet, I won’t take it.
But I will accept his help.
Sometimes.
River’s arm brushes up against mine, and I can’t think straight with him this close to me. This kitchen is way too small for the three of us. Especially with the thoughts running through my mind.
In the past, I could blow him off because I was engaged. It was easy to say no to River and his sexual advances. It’s been over a year since I was with a man. And I’ve never been with anyone as magnetic as River.
“You should make the pastries for our holiday party,” River says as he lifts some cannoli from the sheet, adding them to a box. “The guys would love these.”
I layer the cooled sugar cookies into the box. “I wish I had the time.”
“Yeah, come this year, Ems.” Ollie bumps up against me and sets three completed orders with the others that need to go out for delivery. “You were sick last year. Everyone was asking for you.”
I chuckle. “I doubt anyone missed me.”
River dips his head down, right as my brother turns his head to the side, and whispers in my ear, “I missed you.”
I stand so still, my muscles tense. I’m afraid to move with him hovering over me, breathing on my skin. He smells so good that when I close my eyes, my mind goes to another place.
Why does he have to torture me?
I never understood if River only hit on me because I wasn’t available, or if it was to get under my brother’s skin. Ollie is the textbook overprotective brother and would kill River if he ever treated me like a puck bunny.
But I know better.
My track record with men is so bad I will never let myself fall prey to a man like River. He would destroy me worse than my ex. So I angle my body so I don’t have to look at him. His hand grazes my hip, and I move toward Ollie, desperate for an escape.
Small kitchen.
Big ass hockey players.
This is a dream…
Or my worst nightmare.
An unwelcome banging causes me to jump. I shoot River an annoyed look, and he points his finger at the front door.
Someone knocks again. “Emma,” Joe yells so loud his voice shakes. “Open up, sweetheart.”
A chill rolls down my spine at the sound of my landlord’s deep, creepy voice. Ever since I lost the restaurant, I’ve been late paying the rent. Two months behind isn’t too bad. Joe is usually okay with me making payments. He insists on giving his tenants the personal touch and always comes around on the first of the month to collect.
That was two weeks ago. I’ve been dodging him ever since.
“Who’s that?” River crosses his arms over his chest, a murderous expression on his face.
“My boyfriend,” I lie.
A frown tugs at his mouth for a second, then he slips back into his normal, carefree look.
“Since when do you have a boyfriend?” Ollie asks.
Ignoring his question, I exit the kitchen and swing open the front door. Joe’s blond hair is greasy and slicked back off his forehead. He’s wearing mechanic coveralls from his day job.
He waves a piece of paper in front of my face, then hands it to me. “Your official notice to vacate the premises.”
