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Motherfucker.
I sigh heavily, tipping my head back and popping my eyes open to see Finn leaning over the counter, head cocked slightly to the side as his brows draw together. He paints a convincing picture of concern; I’ll give him that. Still, I feel the heat of a blush creeping up my neck, so I frantically run my hand under the counter until my fingers connect with something, literallyanything,on the floor.
Popping up, I flourish an embarrassingly dusty fork as I say, “Yeah, I just dropped this.” I place the fork on the counter, maintaining steadfast eye contact as I cross my arms over my chest. Finn doesn’t bother glancing at the fork, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief as he leans back.
“What do you want?” I ask as the blush creeps toward my cheeks. It takes everything I have to maintain eye contact. A few days ago, I set this man’s pants on fire. Margaret Gibbs and Nellie Cameron have spread the news all over town, and Keith Lawson made sure to stop by and tell me the fire department was just a call away if I needed to be talked down from future cases of arson or assault by fire.
“To talk.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can even consider them. “There’s no chance in hell.”
I suck in a sharp breath as he places his hands on the bar and leans toward me again, and the face of another expensive watch flashes in the warm glow of the Edison bulbs hanging over the bar. The sight of a vein popping in his neck shouldn’t distract me, nor should the woodsy scent of his expensive cologne.
But as he invades my space, I lose myself in the memory of his muscles bulging beneath my fingers as I pressed them into his upper thigh. Ihatethe rush of heat in my core, but I remind myself that it’s biology.
After all, Finn is nothing if not stupidly attractive. The eyes, the hair, the watch and expensivesuits?A girl would have to be willfully ignorant to not be affected by a man like him.
“Delilah Cooper,” he says. The sound of my name falling from his lips drips through me like the hot honey I use in my signature holiday dessert. Instinctively, I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down, my center heating to boiling as his eyes dart to follow the move. “Are you holding a grudge over Ambiance?”
The name of the restaurant is like a bucket of ice water, cooling me in an instant. “So youdoremember me?” I accuse, taking a step back as he smirks, proud of himself for slapping me in the face with the reminder of my failure.
“I had to look up personnel files to be sure, but not every pastry chef in New York is going around serving something like hot honey crème brûlée. Experimental, is that what you called it?”
“Get. Out.”
He sucks his teeth and shakes his head, the smirk morphing into a full smile now. The self-assured pride pushes me to the brink and my chest heaves with the labored breaths I push through pursed lips. Ambiance was nothing more than another business venture to Finn. To me and the other chefs, though? It was our everything. He only gave us six months before he pulled the plug.
The night he swept into the kitchen with his horrendous date—the woman complained from the start of the meal until the very end—and told us we weren’t making the money necessary to be a viable investment was the worst night of my life. I poured years of my life into culinary school. The other chefs and I poured our hearts and souls into the concept for Ambiance, giving it every little bit of ourselves before it was just…gone.
“It was just business, Delilah. No hard feelings.”
“I suffered through six months of hard feelings,” I spit as I take a step forward again. My hands shake as I brace my weight on the counter, pushing up on my tiptoes to get in his face. His grimace comes and goes in a few seconds, replaced by the same easy smirk he started the conversation with in the blink of an eye. “And now you’re here, inmy hometown, inmy restaurant,to do what? Taunt me? Fuck off. I’ve already told you that Pine Ridge isn’t buying whatever you’re selling, Vittatoe.”
His chest expands with a deep, slow breath. His eyes narrow as he studies my face. There’s something hiding in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher, and my stomach clenches uncomfortably.
“I’m here to open a restaurant. It’s not about you.”
I scoff. Pine Ridge isn’t a fine dining destination, and that’s all Finn Vittatoe does. We do hometown here, and we’re proud of it. If nothing else, I know I’ll have Monty Hayes and all the Historical Society on my side.
“You’ll open a restaurant here over my dead body. Don’t get your hopes up,” I seethe.
My breath catches in my throat when suddenly he reaches up, wraps a hand around the back of my neck, and drags me closer to him. His eyes are blue fire as he whispers, “I don’t hope, Delilah. I plan, I execute, and I win.”
“Let go of me,” I demand half-heartedly, eyes snagging on his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them. I am but a simple woman, beholden to her vagina. And dark, smoldering Finn Vittatoe is like a stocking stuffed full of Christmas candy. I want him. Badly. And I fucking hate myself for it.
Finn finally closes the gap between us, taking my lips in a demanding kiss. I wrap my fingers around the edge of the counter to keep myself from reaching for him when he nips at my bottom lip until my mouth falls open for him. A jolt of electricity shoots through my veins when he tips my head back further, deepening the kiss until I’m a tingling mess.
When he pulls away, dropping his hand from my neck and taking a step back, he says, “Not without a fight, Cooper.”
“I thought this wasn’t about me?” I call as he turns away from me, strutting toward the door with a self-assured gait that only stokes the fire of angry arousal within me.
“I’ve never been a very good liar.”
The tinkling of the bells above the door echo in my brain as I stare after him in shock. What the fucking hell was that?
Chapter4
Delilah
