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“I just embarrassed myself in front of a bunch of bikers and mafia guys. Nothing rocking myself in the corner and drinking a bottle of wine won’t fix.” She bent over and gathered a couple of the scattered cans. “You should really get something to eat before it’s all gone.”
I crouched down and grabbed the rest of the cans. “Is there a reason why you’re trying to get away from me?”
Bristol stood and shoved the cans onto a shelf. “No, of course not. I’m just trying to get things going for dinner. My mind is thinking about roast chicken and vegetables.” She pushed her hair from her face and smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”
Once I shoved the cans onto a shelf, I did what I had been wanting to do since I walked into Wyndemere. I looped my arm around Bristol’s waist and pulled her against me. “It’s always good to see you, Bri.”
I pressed my lips against hers, and within seconds, she melted into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I pushed her back against the shelves.
It had been almost three days since my lips had been on Bristol’s. Three days too long.
The way her body reacted to mine was like heaven. One kiss, and she was like putty in my hands.
“Stop,” she gasped against my lips.
I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to find the nearest bed and have my way with Bristol, but I forced myself to end the kiss. “What’s wrong?” I whispered.
She planted her hands on my chest and pushed me away. “I’m in the middle of work, and there are half a dozen guys about fifteen feet away.”
“I thought we agreed that you always need a little break?” I reached out for her hand, but she moved it away.
“Pie, I’m working.”
I tipped my head to the side. “That never really stopped us before.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed a can from the shelf. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little stressed right now, and I need to get back to work.”
I held up my hands defensively. “Sorry, Bri.”
She nodded stiffly and fled from the pantry.
“You get lost?” Zig called.
I spotted a can on the floor and grabbed it. “Just helping Bristol clean up.”
Zag stood in the entry to the pantry. “You gonna be the new housekeeper?” he joked.
I set the can on the shelf and flipped him off. “Fuck you, dumbass.”
Zag took a huge bite of the sandwich in his hand. “You trying to score with the chef?”
I shook my head and pushed past him. “She’s not my type.” I glanced over my shoulder at Zig and saw Bristol standing behind him with a can in her hand. She turned on her heel and headed away from the kitchen toward the security office.
Oh, fuck.
“Bro, she’s hot as fuck and is a chef. She’s totally my type.” Zig slapped me on the shoulder and pushed me back to the kitchen. “You’re a dumbass if that woman doesn’t do it for you.”
Something told me I had fucked up majorly with Bristol, and all it took was four words. Four words that were a complete lie.
Bristol was my type. Exactly my type, but those weren’t the words that came out of my mouth.
Idiot.
*
Bristol
Four seconds.
