23. Don’t you have some roses to wreck?
Twenty-Three
DON’T YOU HAVE SOME ROSES TO WRECK?
Liv
Just a tiny bit… more.
Of course, any mug on a shelf I could have reached is gone. Who puts shelves this high? Seriously, who installed these?
This is the price I pay for coming out here late. Damn this place and the ridiculously comfortable beds.
The great room is empty except for one man, who’s sitting in the oversized armchair by the unlit fireplace, reading the Monday paper. I don’t want to bother him by asking him to grab me a coffee mug. Maybe there is a stool.
“Can I help you with that?” a deep voice, rough as a shot of whiskey as it burns from the inside out, rumbles from behind me. A shiver rolls down my spine.
Breathe. Be cool.
“Oh, hey, Luke.” I look over my shoulder, coming down off my toes, and turn to face him. I am unbothered by yesterday’s near kiss.
The morning sun is casting a glow on his handsome face, creating shadows that show off all the delicious dips and lines of muscle on his arms. My mouth is dry, and it takes a moment to find my voice.
“Is there anyone who can reach those mugs without a ladder? I mean, I know I’m only average height, but come on. That’s absurd.” I gesture toward the mugs.
His eyes run the length of my legs, still in my pajama shorts that feel exceptionally short now that he’s looking at me the way he is. The perusal is slow, seductive, and sends my skin buzzing.
Luke steps into my space, crowding me against the counter.
His large body forces me to lean back as he reaches above my head.
He sets the mug down on the granite and stands before me—so close the familiar scent of butterscotch and oak threatens to short-circuit my brain.
The heated look in Luke’s eyes tells me he’s seeing something he wants.
Heart pounding, I peer up at him. I’d give him anything he asks for.
Luke
When I walked into the great room, I never expected I’d see Liv in a T-shirt, cropped at the waist, and high-waisted pajama shorts, cut up at the sides accentuating the long lines of lean muscle on her legs.
Her skin is golden after a day of tanning in the sun—yeah, Josh told me about that.
The sight of her nearly knocked the breath out of me.
A quick glance around the room tells me we’re relatively alone, except for Steven, a guest who’s lost in the pages of the newspaper.
I’m trying real hard to put the bed-and-breakfast first. It’s hard to keep bookings consistently coming in, but if word got out that the staff hooked up with guests? That’d ruin us. I try not to think too deeply about Josh’s internet diagnosis.
But to walk into the room and see this? My resolve is fraying.
Liv reaches up again, grunting as she stretches for a shelf that she’ll never be able to get to.
Her shirt rides up, exposing more than a slip of skin above her shorts.
Even Ma needs a step-stool to stock those mugs.
Josh’s fault. He measured wrong and hung the shelves too high.
We all gave him shit for it too, but no one’s taken the steps to make the shelves more accessible.
We haven’t needed to. The mugs on the first shelf were enough until today.
I reach her in a few quick strides and pull the mug from the shelf, placing it on the counter beside her.
Caging her in with my hands on either side of her petite frame, she looks up at me with bright hazel eyes. What if I leaned in? Maybe Josh is right and I just need to stop trying to control everything.
“Try not to trip again, Trip. I might not be there to catch the mug this time before it breaks.”
“Funny, I thought you were catching me from falling. Turns out it was the mug this whole time, huh? Who was the rose for then? The mug, too?” She tilts her head up further, challenging me. Vanilla and jasmine assault my senses, tempting me to lean… just… a little… closer.
“It’s a really nice mug,” I murmur.
“Don’t you have some roses to wreck?” Her voice is soft, breathless, so enticing.
“Nope, I destroyed all of those yesterday.” That makes her smile, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t an instant serotonin boost. Could I?
No. I can’t. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.
“I should get going though.”
She nods silently, my gaze dropping to the column of her throat as she swallows.
Ask me to stay. I linger a moment longer, then shove off the counter and leave before I do something completely reckless.