Chapter 4
Chapter four
Nitro
Hours have passed since the altercation with Kramer. And I can still feel the phantom heat of Riley’s touch on my arm. That one brief, innocent point of contact has been threatening to send every drop of blood in my body racing south at any moment.
I usually have more self-control than this. I knew how to pull myself back from the brink of destruction and lock that shit down. I wasn’t a slave to my sex drive.
But Trooper was right. Riley has burrowed under my skin.
“I just realized you’re the first man I’ve ever had in my kitchen,” she declared.
Riley and I were cooking dinner side by side. I’d been tasked with making the sauce and garlic bread, while she boiled pasta and put together a salad.
When I offered to pick up takeout for dinner instead—she really didn’t need more work after what she’d been through today—Riley insisted she was feeling like a hot, home-cooked meal amid all this snow.
I suspected that staying in motion and keeping her hands busy helped to cope with the stress and anxiety after the Kramer situation.
“I take it your ex wasn’t the type to cook?” I ventured. Which wouldn’t surprise me, given what I already knew about him.
Riley snorted and tossed the chopped lettuce and tomatoes into a bowl.
“God, no. Cooking was beneath him. A woman’s place is in the kitchen, he always told me.” She sighed. “I really enjoy making food for people I love. But it bugged the shit out of me when he said crap like that.”
She started hacking at a purple onion with surprising force. I moved to take the knife from her before she hurt herself.
“Easy, tiger,” I warned, sliding the knife out of her grip. “Why don’t you keep an eye on the sauce for a minute? There’s less risk of chopping off a finger by accident.”
We switched places and I passed the wooden spoon to her. She peered into the boiling pot and inhaled the savory herbal scented steam.
“What kind of sauce did you say you were making again?” she asked. “It smells incredible. I thought you would just warm up a can of spaghetti sauce from the cupboard, but this is so much better.”
“It’s a roasted garlic parmesan alfredo,” I replied. “My great-great grandmother brought it over from Italy when she married and moved to the States. It’s been handed down in my family for generations now.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned family,” Riley pointed out. “Are you close with them?”
I didn’t answer right away, dicing the onion and depositing it in the salad bowl.
“I try to be. But I usually feel slightly…removed. Like an extra puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.”
“Why?”
Riley studied me with an open, inquisitive gaze as she slowly stirred the sauce. As a general rule, I didn’t discuss my personal life with my clients. But she was working her magic again with her presence and those big brown eyes.
“I come from a long line of prestigious career professionals,” I finally admitted. “Doctors, lawyers, dentists, bankers, you name it. A high-end education is the name of the game in the Mullins family. Until I came along. And I did not fit that mold.”
“Were your parents disappointed?” Riley prompted gently, sensing it was probably a tender topic.
I shrugged. “They don’t say it outright, but I notice they treat me differently.
At family dinner, they pepper my sister with questions about her tech career, her kids, her husband.
Then they turn to me, and I can see it on their faces.
They don’t know what to say. I’m a college dropout, a biker, and I make a majority of my living with brute force instead of my brains.
On top of that, there is clearly no chance at a family of my own in the foreseeable future.
I don’t check any of their boxes for success. ”
A pause settled over the room. Riley stopped stirring and faced me, leaning her hip against the counter.
“What about your security agency?”
“It’s a part-time thing. Nothing serious. I don’t even have an office.”
“Well, I think it’s impressive,” she retorted with a sharp nod to punctuate her words.
“I’m a trained ape, Riley. Just like your ex said.”
She gestured at me with the wooden spoon, coated with sauce.
“Don’t you dare give that bastard credit for anything. He doesn’t deserve it.”
I took the spoon before she started flicking sauce all over the room like a Jackson Pollock painting in her vehement state.
“You should come with a hazard warning label,” I said.
“No need to get offended on my behalf. I’ve made peace with my family dynamic and the choices I’ve made in my life.
We don’t hate each other. It’s just clear that I’m not really one of them.
That’s all. We have to play the cards we’re dealt in life. ”
I dipped the spoon into the sauce, blew on it until it cooled, then tasted it. Nodding my approval, I scooped up more sauce for Riley to try it. Cupping my hand below the spoon to catch any dripping sauce, I held out to her.
“Taste,” I said. “Tell me if it needs more salt, lemon…rosemary, maybe.”
“You’re changing the subject,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes, I am. Glad you noticed. I hate talking about myself and I regret opening this can of worms. So, humor me, would you?”
She heaved a sigh and leaned forward, gingerly tasting the sauce. I tried not to think about the pink flick of her tongue, or the way her lips closed around the tip of that damn spoon.
Never thought I would be jealous of a fucking kitchen utensil…
Riley’s eyes fluttered closed and she let out a moan.
“Oh, that’s amazing!”
And now I’m hard as a rock, I thought. Great.
“Forget the salad,” she said. “Let’s just dip garlic bread in your sauce for dinner. I could live on that for the rest of my life.”
Pride swelled in my chest at her praise. Any decent man would feel like he could conquer the world with a woman like Riley by his side. And it seemed she was completely oblivious to her sexual appeal. Her ex probably took a wrecking ball to that aspect of her life, too.
“Vegetables are non-negotiable,” I said. “It’s part of eating a well-rounded meal. Besides, this sauce is loaded with cream and butter. You’re not dropping dead on my watch because of clogged arteries.”
Riley rolled her eyes with a groan.
“Killjoy.”
I chuckled and took her by the shoulders, directing her back to the salad.
“Be careful with that knife this time.”
After we were done cooking, we laid out dinner on the kitchen table. Riley settled into her chair across from me, looking content and relaxed. It was a welcome change from her anxious state after encountering her ex earlier today.
“What about your family?” I asked. “It’s my turn to grill you for information now.”
“Oh, my family is scattered all over the place. My sister got married and moved to New York. She’s so busy that it’s difficult to keep in touch these days.
My brother joined the coast guard down in Texas.
Mom has never been able to let the grass grow under her feet in one place for more than a few months, so I have no idea where she is actually.
She’s a wild, free spirit. Can’t be pinned down. ”
“And your dad?”
Riley swallowed hard, focused on twirling her pasta around her fork.
“He left. When I was thirteen. On Christmas Day.”
My heart lurched.
“Oh, Riley. I’m sorry to hear that.”
She managed a small, brave smile.
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. But he was the only one in my family that I was really close to, and he didn’t even say good-bye. I think it will always sting a little. I’m the quiet one in my family, but Dad made me feel seen. He made time for me. Until…he didn’t.”
My food turned into a tasteless lump of paste in my mouth. I gulped at my water to wash it down.
“Did you ever…?”
I trailed off with a vague gesture of my fork. Was I just pouring salt on a still-tender wound? Was I probing at a topic she would have preferred to stay buried?
“Did I ever look for him?” Riley shook her head. “No. He chose to remove himself from my life and that's all I need to know. Instead, I spend my energy making Christmas special again. My family is too busy for me. So, I celebrate with everyone around here instead.”
That’s why she spent every spare minute of her free time volunteering with holiday festivities. The magic of the Christmas season could have easily been ruined after her dad walked out. But she fought for it and she found it among this little town.
When dinner was over and the dishes were cleared away, Riley stifled a yawn and shuffled off to bed. I shut down the house, doing a perimeter check to ensure that all windows and doors were locked.
Passing by Riley’s bedroom, her door was left open. A miniature Christmas tree glowed on her nightstand. Christmas lights twinkled at her window, casting a rainbow of colors across the ceiling.
In the dim shadows, I could make out the shape of her figure, nestled into the rumpled blankets. Wearing an oversized T-shirt and no shorts, her bare hip was exposed, lined with the thin lace of her panties.
Look away, I scolded myself.
But I couldn’t. My blood pumped hot and fast in my veins. I stood rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of her, sleeping like an angel. A Christmas angel, defiantly clinging to joy that the men in her life had tried to strip from her precious hands.
I knew it was wrong to cross Riley’s threshold. To enter the private, intimate sanctuary of her room while she was half-naked in her bed, sleeping. Trusting me to keep her safe.
Her hazelnut curls were a tangled, frizzy mess on the pillow. And the collar of her T-shirt slipped off one shoulder, showing no bra strap.
My palms burned to glide over her soft, sleep-warm curves. To taste her when she unraveled on my tongue.
But I didn’t do any of that.
Plucking a corner of the sheets, I pulled them up over her body. Then I walked out, easing the door shut behind me.
I closed my eyes and blew out a shaky breath, fighting the raging hard-on that pressed against my zipper.