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Shep set his empty mug down on the porch railing. “I’m going to work out. I have a gym set up at the end of the barn. Sounds like I’ll need my appetite. You need anything?”
Boone shook his head. “You’ve already done so much.”
“Save me some of those muffins too.” Shep pointed a finger at him.
Boone smiled. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”
“Asshole.” But Shep was smiling as he strode off toward the barn.
Back inside, Boone heard Gemma singing to a rapt Atlas as she took trays out of the oven. She set the muffins to cool on the counter, then grabbed a dog biscuit, throwing it between her hands like a hot potato. Boone noted the damn things were shaped like bones.
“Ready?” She tossed it. Atlas leaped up and snatched it out of the air.
Gemma laughed and gave him a rigorous rub. “Clever boy.”
She smelled good, looked good, felt good. Boone just stared at her. In that second, he knew he’d happily die for her. Anything to keep her safe and smiling.
Shep was right. Julio, Charlie, and Miles would want him to live. They’d kick his ass if he avoided whatever was going on between him and Gemma.
She looked up. “Muffins just need to cool. I’m thinking I’ll make some cupcakes next.”
Boone stalked over to her. He needed to kiss her. Desperately.
He hauled her into his arms and took her mouth with his.
As his tongue stroked hers, she made a gasping sound, her hands curling into his shirt. When he lifted his head, she had a dreamy look on her face.
“Boone?”
“Gemma.”
She let out a happy sigh. “I have sex tingles.”
It startled a laugh out of him. “I like the sound of that.” He pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll help you make the cupcakes.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
He squeezed her. “Really.”
Then he kissed her again until she was clinging to him, her eyes closed and pink on her cheeks.
“You smell good enough to eat,” he murmured.
That pink flush deepened.
“So, where do we start?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“With the cupcakes.”
“You’re really going to help me?”
“Yes. Give me a second to let Atlas out to roam, and I’m all yours.”
* * *
Gemma focused intentlyon pouring the last of the cupcake mixture into the trays she’d found. Thank God Shep, or more likely whoever had built the cabins before he’d purchased the place, had stocked the kitchens with every gadget and item they could think of. She couldn’t imagine Shep Barlow buying baking trays and spatulas.
