Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Margot
We must drift back to sleep after that. Sometime later, my alarm rudely pulls us from sleep.
“I have to get ready,” I whisper, lifting the sheet to take another peek at his magnificent body. “You can stay here if you want to.”
“Can’t.” He reaches for his phone on the nightstand without opening his eyes. “Church.”
How I wish I could go with him. I’d hang out with the women while the guys have their meeting. Maybe this time I’d ask Trinity if I could help her in the kitchen. I’d laugh while the guys teased each other at breakfast and…
“What’s wrong?” Jigsaw frowns and sits up.
“Nothing.” I shake off the longing. I have a job to do. “I was just…nothing.”
“I wish you could come with me. But I know you have to work.” He glances at his phone. “I have time. Let me help you before I go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Don’t argue with me.” He lifts his chin toward my closet. “Get dressed. I’ll make you something to eat.”
I try to give him a stink-eye for the bossy tone, but the twitch of my lips negates it.
Less than an hour later, I’m ready to head downstairs.
“You look really pretty.” Jigsaw traces his finger over the lacy ruffle of my dark blue silk blouse.
Warmth glides over my skin. “You say that every morning.”
“It’s true every morning.”
As if he’s my bodyguard clearing a path, he heads down the stairs first.
Paul’s already downstairs. He slides a knowing smile our way.
Jigsaw doesn’t bother trying to hide that he spent the night. “Where do you need an extra set of hands?”
Paul raises his eyebrows at me, then answers. “Down here. Follow me.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” I hurry in there, my heels clicking over the tile. After preheating the oven, I pull out several cookie trays and boxes of store-bought dough.
Wearing gloves, I drop dollops of dough on the trays and slide the trays in the oven. I snap the gloves off and set the timer on my watch, then hurry to the prep room to speak to my father.
Jigsaw catches me in the hallway on my way back to the kitchen.
“All done.” His gaze shifts to the door, then the kitchen.
The buzzer on my watch vibrates against my wrist. “Let me grab the cookies out of the oven and I’ll walk you outside.”
“Cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows and sweeps his hand in front of him. “After you.”
Laughing, I return to the kitchen and grab a pair of oven mitts. I bend over and open the oven door. Heat blasts my eyes, steaming up my glasses for a second. Carefully, I slide the trays out and set them on top of the oven.
Jigsaw steps behind me, resting his hands on my hip, his warmth hotter than the heat from the oven against my skin. “There is nothing hotter than you bending over in this skirt to take cookies out of the oven.” He slides one hand over my butt, patting me lightly.
I step back. “This skirt?” I gesture to the below-knee-length black pencil skirt that always makes me feel about as sexy as a nun balancing the church’s checkbook.
“Yup.”
“For that, I’ll give you a few cookies to go.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “I even saved back extra dough to make some for you later.”
He slips both hands around my waist, pulling me against him. “You’re spoiling me.”
“Happy to.” I reach for a roll of paper towels and tear off a sheet. He releases me and I grab a thin spatula, peeling two still-warm, wobbly cookies from the tray. “They’re not cooled enough.”
“They’re not going to last long.” He takes the paper towel, carefully folding it around the cookies.
We step onto the back porch, holding hands. I still have a few minutes before visitors start arriving. My gaze scans the parking lot. Several attendants are parked in the back. The garage door is open. Paul will pull the hearse out soon.
“Paul said you’re expecting a lot of people?” Jigsaw asks.
“Yes. Her death was kind of sudden. I mean, she was elderly but in good health. She was active in her church and did a lot of volunteer work.”
His expression hardens at the word church. Briefly, but I catch it. Understandable.
Still holding hands, I walk him to his bike, reluctant to let him go. As if admitting I love him means I can’t bear to see him leave. Or I’m afraid he won’t come back.
He sets the cookies on the seat of his bike and pulls me into his arms again. “You know I don’t want to leave, right?”
It’s like he knows exactly what I needed to hear.
“I don’t want you to go.” I squeeze him tighter. “But I don’t want you in trouble with your club, either.” More seriously, I add, “Will you tell everyone I said hello? Will Shelby be there?”
“Uh, I think she’s down in Tennessee recording.” He scrunches up his face. “Rooster was pretty grouchy last time I touched base.”
“Awww. They’re so sweet.”
He flicks his gaze to something behind me. “I hope you’ll be able to come up again. Soon.”
“Me too.”
He steps closer, cupping the back of my neck, careful not to mess up my hair, neatly captured with a silver barrette. His thumb presses firmly under my chin, tilting my head as he lowers his face to mine. I curl my arm around his neck as his lips ghost over mine. His minty breath washes over me and he sweeps his tongue between my lips, sliding it against mine. I let out a startled moan. He sweeps his hands down my back, clutching my hips like he can’t get enough of me and needs a reminder of how I feel under his fingers.
Somewhere behind us, I’m aware of a car pulling into the lot. We’re right at the corner of the house where anyone could see us as they pass by.
Jigsaw kisses the corner of my mouth, then along my jaw to the sensitive spot on my neck. He sharply pulls back as if yanked by a leash of restraint. “If I don’t stop now, I’m going to take you back upstairs…” he whispers, letting me fill in the blanks.
“I think I’d let you.”
He captures my hand, lifting it to his lips. Dusting a kiss against my knuckles while holding my gaze, silently communicating all the other places on my body he wants to kiss.
“I better go before Dad comes looking for me.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Damn, I need to run upstairs and grab my planner.”
His lips curve. “Go ahead. Let me watch you go inside.”
So protective, even though it’s broad daylight and we’re about to have a hundred people in and out of this house.
I nod to his bike. “Be safe.”
“Always.”
Flushed and flustered from our searing kiss I turn and head toward the back porch. Time to put on my professional mask. I can’t properly greet mourners with the lovesick grin of a giddy teenager plastered on my face.
“Margot?”
My entire body somehow freezes and recoils at the same time. A feeling I’ve only ever experienced with one man.
Daniel.
You have got to be shitting me.
His shoes scrape against the asphalt as he hurries to catch up to me. I force my face into something somber and professional. No matter how much I hate Daniel, I’m at work. He’s just another member of the public I have to interact with.
He stops in front of me and smiles like he has every right to my time and attention. Then his gaze travels over me from head to toe.
“You look…different.” His voice drips with the cold condescension I used to mistake for sophistication.
Different doesn’t sound like a compliment or even a normal thing to say to someone. Wait.
Did he see Jigsaw and me kissing? Is that why he’s making a face like a skunk pooped in his Cheerios?
I hold my breath—acutely aware of the stillness around us. The quiet of the neighborhood.
The absence of a certain Harley engine.
Behind me the air shifts. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Jigsaw’s aura of protection at my back. He rests his hand right above my butt and stands so close, we’re touching from shoulder to thigh, making it obvious he’s not some rando hanging out in the parking lot who just walked up and joined our conversation.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Daniel, although his perfectly tailored black suit should make the answer obvious—he’s attending the service.
When my father said Mrs. Penny lived in the same area as Daniel’s grandmother, I’d wondered if they’d been friends. I never expected Daniel to show up today, though.
His curious gaze flicks between Jigsaw and me.
My palms sweat. Should I introduce them? Jigsaw clearly isn’t going to introduce himself.
“I, uh…” Daniel swipes his hand through his hair. What’s wrong with him? I’ve never seen him…nervous? Is that what’s making him sweat? Jigsaw must be giving him a lethal dose of his death stare.
Good.
I swallow a giggle. Jigsaw could crack Daniel like a saltine if he wanted to and Daniel seems to know it.
“Mrs. Penny was a good friend of my grandmother’s,” Daniel finally explains. “I left a voicemail to let you know I’d see you…” He frowns at Jigsaw again.
“She’s been busy.” Jigsaw’s grave tone vibrates with the restraint of someone who wants to knock the man in front of him into next week.
My father must have gotten the message and not bothered to tell me. A warning would’ve been nice.
I don’t care about Daniel anymore, so why am I slightly stunned and paralyzed standing here talking to him?
Honestly, I’m grateful our relationship ended. Everything in my life right now is good and some of it wouldn’t have been possible if Daniel and I were still together. Like the man standing next to me.
The deadly expression on Jigsaw’s face is so intense as he stares Daniel down, I’m almost scared someone else has taken over his body. Is this the same man who so sweetly cuddled under the sheets, told me he loved me, and made me come so hard I heard angels sing this morning?
Is that low, vibrating sound an actual… growl coming from him?