19. Carson James
19
CARSON JAMES
I awoke with my arm around a nuclear warhead. She was terrifyingly still, beautifully delicate, and deadly if I jostled her the wrong way.
Lennon’s black and white hair splayed across my chest. Her soft breaths warmed my skin with each gentle rise and fall of her chest. The sheets were draped over each curve, ridge, and valley of her body. They gave me another undeserved chance to admire her as she slept.
A million depraved desires raced through my mind. I wanted to wake her up with my mouth on her tits, my hand on her clit, and my name on her lips. There were worse ways to be woken from a deep sleep.
But I didn’t move. I barely breathed.
Lennon had occupied the far-right edge of the bed, tossing and turning for the first hour in an attempt to get to sleep. Getting used to a new place always sucked. There were different sounds. Different flashes of light. Different ways the bed creaked and molded to a body.
She settled when I crossed the invisible line we had drawn between us and pulled her to my chest.
“I have questions.” Lennon’s sharp, accusatory tone startled me out of the morning haze.
I chuckled and brushed her hair away from her face. “What happened to good morning? How’d you sleep? ”
She peered up at me. “Where did the hair stuff come from?”
“What hair stuff?”
“The shampoo and conditioner you put in your shower. It wasn’t mine.”
“Do you always wake up like this?”
“Like what?”
“One second you’re dead asleep and the next you’re firing off questions.” I smoothed my hand over her ass and gave it a squeeze. “I’m a slow riser, trouble.”
“I thought you cowboys were all the ’up and at ’em’ type.”
“Must’ve skipped me.” I sifted my fingers through her hair and cupped her cheek. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine. Whose shampoo was that?”
“Yours.”
Lennon rolled her eyes and tugged the comforter up to her chin. “It’s not mine.”
“I got it for you.”
“From where ?” Lennon didn’t return her hand to where it had been resting on my stomach, but she hadn’t jumped out of bed and run away yet either. I’d say we were making progress, even though we were back to suspicious fire and mistrustful brimstone.
“I went into town and picked it up before I had dinner at the restaurant last night.” I looped her hair around my finger. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t born with the hair of a movie villain who has a hundred Dalmatians, so I figured you’d want something that doesn’t fuck up your hair color if you came back here.”
Her brows knitted together. “How’d you know I’d need a special shampoo? And where the hell did you find that kind in this little town?”
I chuckled. “I’ve listened to Cassandra bitch about the upkeep of her hair for years now. I asked her where she bought her shampoo. Since she orders so much of it, the little shop in town started keeping a stock of it.”
I swear Lennon relaxed a little at that.
“Now. Hit me with it.”
“With what?” she asked.
“The rest of the inquisition.”
“What makes you think I have an inquisition?”
“You woke up with one. Now do you want to interrogate me more, or can we get back to waking up?”
“Why aren’t you already gone?” she peered at the bedside clock. “It’s almost ten in the morning.”
“I’m on night shift tonight,” I said as I reached over to the bedside table and plucked a daisy out of the bouquet I had left in the parking lot for her last night. “We’ve got a bunch of heifers about to give birth, so we take shifts, making sure someone’s always out there keeping an eye on ’em.”
Her eyes softened as I tucked the daisy behind her ear.
“What else you got?”
“Don’t think I’m rolling over and playing dead.” She yawned. “I’m still mad at you.”
I took a chance and kissed her forehead, hoping that she was sleepy enough to opt out of strangling me. “I don’t expect you to. I like when you fight me. It makes the yielding so much sweeter. I like working for it. Earning it.” I kissed down her throat, softly massaging her thighs apart. “I like that you don’t give me this side of you freely.”
“We can chalk this up to a momentary lapse in—” Lennon’s voice disappeared as I dipped my head below the covers and pulled her nipple between my teeth.
“In what?” I asked as I teased her with my tongue until she was squirming.
“A lapse in . . . in . . .”
“Spit it out, trouble.” I grazed the entrance to her pussy with a phantom touch.
“Judgment,” she choked out.
I chuckled. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”
Lennon whimpered as I rubbed her clit in steady circles. “I’ll leave the spare key on the dresser.”
“It’s not a spare key,” I growled.
Lennon gasped at the pressure against her clit as I eased her closer and closer to orgasm. “Then what?—”
“It’s my key,” I said as I pushed two fingers inside her and curled them against her tight inner muscles. “So think twice before you go do something stupid with it to get back at me.”
Her hands slammed into the mattress, twisting and fisting the sheets as her toes curled.
“Don’t stop fighting me, trouble,” I whispered against her lips. “Yield, but don’t cease.”
Lennon’s head tipped back as she careened into a crushing end. I bit down on her lower lip, drinking down each gasp. Her breasts pressed against my chest. Her entire body sought mine like she was drowning, but clinging to driftwood to try to stay afloat.
I cradled her head in the crook of my shoulder as I eased my fingers out of her pussy. Slowly, she relaxed, curling into me and closing her eyes. I listened as her breathing steadied into a predictable, lazy rhythm.
“You working today?” I mumbled as I flopped back on my pillows, pulling her with me.
“I work every day.” Lennon yawned, then sighed contentedly. “But I need to get up and get going.”
“You and me, trouble. Peas in a pod.” I brushed her hair away from where her cheek was pressed against my chest so I could study the lines of her eyelashes and the slope of her nose. “Sleep here tonight. You’ll have the bed to yourself until morning. I’ll tell the guys to leave you be.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,” she groused.
“I have no doubt.”
Her eyes opened, lifting to meet mine. I adjusted the daisy that had nearly fallen out from behind her ear in the heat of her orgasm.
“You know, if I had gotten my way that night, this is how the next morning would have gone.”
Lennon’s gaze drifted away from mine. “I knew you’d be sweet to me if I would’ve had that second drink.” Her index finger traced abstract shapes in my chest hair. “There was something about you. You smiled at my attitude.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “I was up shit’s creek without a paddle the moment I saw you, cowboy. I had to walk away.”
I found her hand and tangled our fingers together. “What about now?”
“I’m still up that creek, but I’m floating instead of flailing.”
I hummed under my breath. “I’ll float with you.”
We drifted in and out of lazy sleep and shared hushed notes of pleasure as our hands wandered. After a while, Lennon peeled away from my arms and got ready for work.
She pulled the daisy from her hair and ran a brush through it. From the bed, I watched as she dressed in a crisp chef’s uniform, then braided her hair into a neat plait down her back. She didn’t say anything about it, but I noticed when she slid the daisy into the pocket on her bicep where she usually kept a pen and a permanent marker.
I cracked a smile at the sight, because I knew I had a chance.
“Chef, can you taste this?”
Shouts, questions, and a cacophony of clattering dishes met me in a wall of sound as I slipped in the back door to the restaurant. It was propped open as the semi-truck that made weekly deliveries to the lodge and restaurant was being unloaded.
I gave the two guys who were shuffling boxes a nod and pretended like I belonged.
I didn’t. That much was clear as day.
Chefs, cooks, servers, and support staff danced around in shades of black and white. Everyone was in crisp, pressed perfection.
I spotted Lennon in the middle of the chaos, commanding the kitchen with militaristic precision.
A strange energy radiated off of her as she shuffled along the front line, hurrying to get plates out to hungry diners.
Julian—the punk who had run his mouth when I was fixing the tilt skillet—caught sight of me and gave me a chin tip. There was a wariness in his eyes as he tracked my every move.
I couldn’t blame him either. The last time I had been in the kitchen, Lennon and I were taking literal and metaphorical jabs at each other.
They probably thought I was coming back for round two.
I lifted the bouquet in my hand and tipped my head toward Lennon, hoping he’d get the message that I was coming in peace.
Another body stood out among the sea of black and white. A man in a sage green suit that was far too tailored to be off the rack.
So that explained Lennon’s nervous energy.
Chef DeRossi stood at his post, arranging dishes and releasing them to tables. He saw me before Lennon did.
“Mr. Griffith,” he said, flashing a Hollywood smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Lennon stiffened and glanced over her shoulder, peeling her eyes away from the sauté pan in her hands.
As I stood in front of reality TV royalty, I felt a little stupid holding the handful of yellow and pink primroses that I had pulled from the field closest to the bunkhouse.
I cleared my throat. “I—uh—I was hoping I could speak with Chef Maddox for a moment.”
Lennon’s cheeks turned as red as the raw steak she had dropped into her pan.
It was mid-afternoon. I hadn’t expected the kitchen to be this busy. I especially hadn’t expected Lennon’s boss to be here.
I thought I would be able to slip in, flirt a little, then head out.
She hadn’t said it in so many words, but I knew she had been struggling to earn everyone’s respect.
Why had I come here again?
“Absolutely. Is this about her car?” Chef DeRossi asked as he tipped his head to Lennon. “If there’s anything we can do for you and your family, just ask.” It sounded like a warning to Lennon more than a blank-check offer to me.
“Chef Simmons,” Lennon said as she handed off her task to the guy on her left.
“Covering,” he said.
Lennon’s eyes finally flicked up to meet mine. “Two minutes.”
I followed her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the office. I didn’t hear her breath until the door closed behind us.
“What are you doing here?” she clipped as she peeled off her tall chef’s hat and knotted her hand in the top of her spilling braid.
I held out the pathetic bunch of flowers that had roots still hanging from the stems. “Just dropping by. What’s wrong with your car?”
“Why are you dropping by?” she asked.
“Tell me what’s wrong with your car.”
“CJ—”
She had that fight-or-flight look in her eye. With Lennon, I never knew which one she would choose.
Today looked like it would be a flight response. She would run back to the kitchen and ignore me under the guise of work.
I dropped the flowers on the desk and pushed forward until I had her backed against the wall. “What’s the matter with your car?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“Save us both the time and just tell me. Either you tell what the matter is, or I’ll go find out for myself. I stole your car once. I’ll do it again.”
She sighed and closed her eyes as she rested the back of her head on the wall. “Someone slashed my tires, and I have neither the time nor the money to fix them. So, I hope you don’t mind me crashing at the bunkhouse for a few more nights. I can’t walk to work from town.”
I saw red.
“ Who did it?” I hissed as I braced my hands on the wall behind her head, caging her in. “Give me a fucking name.”
Her eyes flashed with rage. “You think I wouldn’t take care of it myself if I knew?”
“You called the cops, right?”
She cut her eyes away from me.
“ Right ?” I pressed.
Lennon crossed her arms over her chest. “The cops and I don’t exactly have the greatest track record. So, no. I won’t be calling the cops, thank you very much. And if you break my trust and get them involved, you’ll have hell to pay, cowboy.”
I froze. “You trust me?”
“I let you fuck me, didn’t I?”
Those brash words and her sharp tone were nothing but a defense mechanism. She could be as prickly as she wanted, but I had gotten a peek beneath that fa?ade.
“Give me your keys. I’ll take care of it.”
She bristled. “Drop it. I’ll handle it when I have a day off.”
I snaked my hand up the back of her neck, cupping the base of her skull as our lips brushed. “Let me take care of it. I owe you, remember?”
“Carson . . .”
My name on her lips was the shackle. Her exhausted whisper was the iron ball that dragged me to my damnation.
“Just give me your keys, Len.”
She reluctantly fished them out of the pocket on her thigh and dropped them in my hand. “Whoever did it knows the difference between three and four tires.”
I cupped her cheek. “Let me take care of it.”
“Save your receipts.”
“Get those tally marks out of your head. We’re not keeping score here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I left her with a soft kiss that shook her to her core.
Lennon lifted her fingers and pressed them to the pout of her lips as I backed out of the office, twirling her keys around my fingertip.