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“You know…” Ryan startles at my voice, and the bowl in her hand falls to the counter with a clunk. She curses under her breath, turning slowly until she faces me with a scowl. Her mouth falls open, her eyes narrowing, but I continue. “I’ve been wondering where that jumper got to. Mum was pissed last year that I didn’t match everyone else in the Christmas photo.”
“I… uh, you, erm…”
“Don’t worry, Ry. It looks better on you than it ever did me,” I say, pushing off the door and stepping towards her. A deep flush crawls up her neck, painting her cheeks a delicious pink as she glances furiously around the room, avoiding my gaze. “What are you making?”
She sighs, her shoulders sagging at the reprieve, before turning back to the counter. “Gingerbread. I woke up stupidly early, and despite the raging hangover, I had a hankering for it. My head still pounds, though. Are you up for helping?”
“Sure. Where do you want me?”
I roll up the sleeves on my black hoodie and move over to the sink to wash my hands. I don’t miss the way Ryan traces the ink on my forearms with her eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her plump bottom lip before she locks in on my gaze.
“You can start rolling out the dough,” she says, busying herself by searching through the drawers. She coughs, mumbling as she fiddles with the utensils, and I laugh loudly.
“What?” she shrieks, clenching her eyes shut, and her nose wrinkles with her grimace.
“Those bloody tattoos,” I echo, cocking a brow.“See something you like, Ry?”
“It’s rude to listen to someone’s inner ramblings, you know,” she snaps, glaring daggers at me.
“Hardly inner if you say them loud enough for the whole of Scotland to hear.”
She scoffs as she moves to pass me the dough. As I grab the bowl, though, she “accidentally” bumps into me, pressing her flour-stained hands against my stomach with an innocent “Oops.”
It might be more believable if it wasn’t for the happy little tune she whistles under her breath as she starts on the next batch.
For the next hour, we work in tandem, humming to the radio while blanketed in the comforting scent and warmth of gingerbread as batches move in and out of the oven.
“So, excited to have some time off work for a bit?” she asks, hopping up onto the counter and swinging her legs back and forth as I place the final tray onto the cooling rack.
“Fuck yes. I’m more than ready for it. While I hate to admit it, I should have listened to you when you told me how much work would go into running your own business.”
She laughs, the sound heating my chest. “Is now where I sayI told you so?”
“Probably should.”
“Well, then, Chase Brooks…” I turn to face her, folding my arms over my chest as I lean against the counter. “I told you so.”
“That you did.”
She smirks smugly, sending me a wink. “You should hear the way Bailey brags about you every time she comes down. If you weren’t already so good at bragging, I’d say you should consider taking her on as your manager.”
“Ha. I’m pretty sure Bails just likes the perks.”
“Free tattoos whenever she wants? Who wouldn’t?”
“That offer still stands for you, you know.” She cocks her head, her brows furrowing. “If I remember correctly, you wanted some ink not so long ago.”
“Oh. I forgot about that conversation.”
“Well, I didn’t. So, whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Maybe one day.”
“Not ready to stop avoiding me yet?” I tease, moving off the counter and stalking towards her.
“I haven’t been avoiding you…”
I step between her spread legs and cup her jaw, tipping her head back until her eyes lock on mine. “Try saying that with a little more conviction, and maybe I’ll believe you. Texts and phone calls don’t really count if whenever I try to see you, you run the other way.” My thumb trails along her golden skin, brushing her bottom lip, and she hisses out a breath, her eyes shuttering closed.
