CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
She huffs, snapping off the stovetop and reaching for plates. “I can’t go there. Sorry. It’s nothing personal. My family would—” She stops short and shakes her head. “It’s just a non-option.”
Needle points prickle across my chest. I’m being rejected in real time. But I brought myself here for a reason. I need to lay this infatuation to rest, and this might be the only way to do it.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” My eyes are on her plating the food, watching her movements.
In my head I’m prepping the garnish, readying the drizzle of sauce I’d add as a finishing touch.
But this is breakfast, and Piper’s in control.
Chef Kru needs to stand down. “So no more kisses when you start hitting chip shots at the fence again, huh?”
She dips her chin. This looks suspiciously like a pout. She wants the kisses as much as I do.
“If it makes you feel better, I won’t tell anybody if you kiss me at the fence line.” I bring my lips closer to her ear. My lips brush her lobe as I whisper, “It can be our dirty little secret.”
Goosebumps flourish along her neckline, and I can’t restrain myself. I take a tug of her earlobe with my teeth, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Seducing me will not make these eggs taste better,” she warns me. Her eyes are hooded as she turns to me, presenting me with my plate.
“I beg to differ.” My gaze washes over the plate, and my stomach immediately begins rumbling. Maybe I am a breakfast guy after all, if Piper makes it for me. “Our emotions show up in our recipes. I’m just doing my part, getting you all horny while you cook for me.”
A laugh bursts out of her and she brings her plate to the small dinette along the windows overlooking the backyard. I bring my plate over and sit next to her. Our knees knock as I fit into the space beside her.
“My true goal is to get your mind off the sad stuff.” I take one last sip of orange juice before I dig in. “Did it work?”
She’s chewing and smiling up at me. “It did. Thank you.”
“Your mom sounds amazing," I say quietly. "I want to go check out the bakery once everything is put back together.”
“It’s a Bayshore staple,” she says, forking some more eggs.
“She took it over from the previous owner and kept the legacy going. Now it’s famous for her recipes and her style.
And my mom is incredible. She didn’t exactly have it easy in life.
After Dad died, she held us all together.
Four rowdy boys and then me, the unexpected girl addition.
..until Bella became the final unexpected girl addition when she moved in with us.
" She flashes a brief, sad smile. "My mom's the strongest person I know. "
"Explains where you get it from."
She raises an eyebrow. "You think I'm strong?"
“You’re the youngest of five and a business owner. Not to mention a marketing maven and pioneer. Yeah, I think you’re strong. It takes strength to cut it in the business world, and you’ve got a solid track record already.”
She blinks a few times, her throat bobbing. “Why are you so sweet?” She takes a bite of toast.
“I’m not sweet. I’m honest.”
“You’re both,” she says as she chews. “Now eat your food and let me know how I did.”
I take a bite of the eggs. They're simple but good—fluffy, seasoned well. The bacon is crisp, just how I like it. It's not haute cuisine, but it's honest food, made with care.
“Do you want me to be sweet, or honest?” I ask her.
"Let’s try for both again,” she says with a laugh.
"They're…" I pause, narrowing my eyes critically. "Agreeable to the palate."
She snorts out a laugh, the sound warming me more than the food. "High praise. I strive to create a breakfast that begs to be called agreeable .”
“Hey, if there’s a food critic in my restaurant and they call my menu agreeable, I’ll take that compliment and run.”
She tilts her head as she looks over at me, something dreamy coming over her. “Are you trying to get food critics in your place?”
“Of course. Not shooting for a Michelin star with my concept, but I want to be on the map.” I take another big bite of eggs, winking her way. “For my dad.”
“Is he a chef too?”
“He was, in his own way. Before he passed.”
Understanding shudders through her, and we lock eyes. The more I learn about her, the more I want her. The more I realize how much she fucking complements me. She’s an ingredient I never planned on finding, and I suspect she’ll meld nicely in the recipe of my life.
If she wanted the same thing, that is.
“How old were you when he died?” she asks quietly.
“It was about four years ago. Cancer. He fucking loved that I had trained to be a chef and was working on food trucks. It was like the missed opportunity of his life, you know? That thing he never got to do but always wanted to try.” Emotion is welling inside me.
I need to tread carefully. “I wish he could have seen the reality TV show. Man, he would have lost his shit.” I laugh to myself and take another bite of eggs to stop the way my throat is tightening up.
“What was his name?”
“Ray.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the pieces clicking into place. “That’s why you named the…”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s for him. In his honor.”
She touches her chest, tears welling in her eyes. She bursts into a sob and covers her face with her hands.
“Oh shit,” I start, “I didn’t mean—”
“That is the absolute sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” She cries into her hands then sniffles, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Oh my god, Kru. I’m so sorry I said Ray’s was some neo-hipster chain restaurant.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “That’s right. What else did you tell me? That I was going to dance on the bar hourly? Brutal.”
“I was mad at you.” She wipes tears away from under her eyes.
“Fair.” I bite into the bacon. “When did you lose your dad?”
She takes a deep breath, her gaze drifting down to her plate.
“I was young. Like six. I barely remember him. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time—car accident. Not his fault.” She toys with a piece of bacon as she continues.
“It was hard for all of us. And my oldest brother Asher nominated himself as the honorary Dad after that. He tried so hard to fill Dad’s shoes…
which was an impossible task, especially for a grieving twelve or thirteen year old. ”
“I can’t imagine.” I reach out and squeeze her free hand. “Losing a parent is always hard, but I think it’s hardest when you’re young and you haven’t gotten the hang of the world yet.”
Piper nods slowly, then takes a bite of her bacon. “Yeah. Well said. Dad’s still around though. We keep him in an hourglass in the family room, so he can participate in game night.”
My brows draw together. “You…what?”
“His ashes,” she clarifies, then pauses. “Yeah, that still sounds pretty crazy huh?”
We eat in companionable silence for a while, the weight of our conversation hanging between us. I feel closer to Piper than ever. I want her more than ever.
But something is in the way.
And I’m nothing if not persistent.
Once our bellies are full and I clear the plates, the sight of her bathed in the early morning sunlight has desire humming through me. Fuck, I want this woman. I know how good we are together—and she does too.
“So,” I begin, coming up behind her in the chair. I squeeze the tops of her shoulders, bringing my mouth closer to her ear. “How does ‘you and me’ become an option?”
Her eyes flutter shut. “Kru…I…this is why I ghosted you. It’s bad timing.”
I grunt softly, nipping at her earlobe again. “Wrong answer.”
“And now, the bad timing is even worse,” she adds.
“Fine. But don’t come looking for me at night,” I warn her. “Now give me one last kiss for the road.”
She narrows her eyes, but doesn’t protest when I dip down and claim her lips with my own. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat as our tongues meet. She’s warmth and honey and the tang of orange juice. Fuck, I want more of this woman. But I pull myself away.
“If you need anything other than kisses, a good fuck, or a boyfriend, I’m right next door.”
She rolls her lips in, covering her pink cheeks with her hands. “I know where to find you.”
I pause at the sliding glass door, looking back at her. The morning sun is climbing higher, painting her face in soft golden light. Despite the shadows under her eyes and the worry etched into her features, she's beautiful.
"Kru," she says, just as I'm stepping onto the deck. "Thank you. Again. For everything."
"Anytime, Maven."
I head back to my place, hopping the fence with now practiced ease. Everything inside me wants to stay with her, to dive deeper into the warmth that opens up between us whenever we’re together for more than a minute and nobody is blocking the curb cut.
But she’s drawn the line between us.
Somehow that line is supposed to keep Piper Keegan as strictly my neighbor and rival when everything between us is begging both of us to cross it.