CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
P IPER
“Paprika. Are you here? Hello.”
I’m rummaging through Griffin’s spice cabinet for the third time, trying to determine whether I’m blind or if Griffin just truly does not have any variety of paprika. Addressing the spice cabinet directly is probably the best way to find what I’m looking for. Unfortunately, it doesn’t respond.
“Fine.” I shut the door and look around at the messy kitchen.
I’m mid-meal prep, an emergency request from Griffin who’s been too busy with hospital shifts and his hockey schedule to get his super-specific meal train in motion while his nutritionist is on vacation.
I offered to help because he’s been pulling so much time at the hospital, which means Jerrica is running the show for me at Cloud Nine while I get Griff’s meals in order.
On top of all that, I’m prepping dinner for family game night.
I’m nothing if not a Keegan servant.
I also had to postpone the barn showing with Kru, which has me practically combusting with anticipation.
Between the excitement about the barn and the residual giddiness from my late-night encounter with Kru yesterday, I’m almost useless in the kitchen.
I can barely focus. If I’m not thinking about the way Kru made me come with his tongue, then I’m fantasizing about what my new barn space is going to look like when I’m done renovating it.
Piper, seriously, you need to calm down.
Except I can’t. I’m horny, I’m excited, I’m halfway in love with Kru, and the whole package is coated with deep-seated, crippling anxiety about what happens if Mom doesn’t wake up.
That’s the part I’m trying to avoid thinking about too much.
So barn planning and orgasms it is.
“One last chance to reveal yourself, Smoked Paprika!” I try to say it menacingly. Smoked Paprika doesn’t care.
I’m making a few healthy dishes I pulled from the list of recipes Griff sent over, this one being some Spanish-style patatas bravas. I check my phone. Who the hell can I call at this hour who would have teaspoons of smoked paprika, or any variety of paprika, for me to steal?
A smile curls at my lips as I realize who I need to text.
Perfect mid-day excuse to bother him, too.
PIPER: Krudite, you know where I could find some smoked paprika on the fly?
I wonder if he likes my bastardization of his name.
KRU: I know a guy. How much you need, Half Pipe?
I smirk. That’s a new one.
PIPER: 3 tsps for my various recipes. Is there some at your house? I can go break in.
KRU: Nah, I’ll deliver. I’m running errands right now anyway. See you soon.
A shiver of excitement races up my spine, and I can’t stop the cheek-splitting smile.
It’s nice to have a lover…even if he has to be a secret.
My brothers are too uptight and closed-minded to go anywhere near even mentioning that I’m sleeping with my landlord and usurper.
It’s just a no-go all around. So I’ll have my fun in the shadows until I can figure out what to do from here.
I continue with my meal prep, ignoring all things requiring paprika.
About a half hour later, a knock at the front door startles me from concentration.
It has to be Kru. That cheek-splitting smile is back.
I rub my hands on my frilly kitchen apron and hurry to the front door.
When I pull it open, Kru fills the doorway, looking every inch a working chef in his black tee and belted black pants.
He grins as soon as he sees me. I can’t help but drink him in, appreciating every last detail: the way his biceps strain the edges of his sleeves, his broad shoulders, the handsome smile that reminds me how much he enjoyed last night too.
Neither of us has said a word; we’re lost in each other’s gaze.
“Hi,” I finally breathe.
In lieu of a greeting, he dips down and coaxes a kiss from my lips. I slide my arms around his neck as he backs me inside the house. I kick the door shut behind him and suddenly I’m up against the wall, lip-locked and loving it.
“Hi,” he says when we break for air. “Missed ya.”
“Good thing I needed paprika then,” I giggle, running my hands through his hair. “You might not have survived the day without me.”
He grins, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “Whatcha making?”
I lead him into the kitchen by the hand, eager to share the day’s chef adventure. He nods appreciatively as I show him my sliced potatoes, the marinades, the seared chicken, and more.
“Two of my five recipes call for smoked paprika,” I inform him, “and apparently Griffin has never added spices to a dish in his life before. He only has the most irrelevant items in his spice cabinet.”
“Irrelevant?” Kru asks with a laugh.
“Yes! Like, sesame seeds and petrified mustard powder, but not even a whiff of paprika, oregano or, I don’t know, pepper? Who is this man?”
“You haven’t been cooking much either, I take it,” he muses.
“Well, it’s easy to avoid cooking when a chef opens up shop next to you,” I say. “Besides, Griff normally hires his meals out during the season, which just started.”
Kru lifts his brow. “Wow. Private chef level. That’s nice.”
“You ever wanted to go the private chef route?” I ask as he hands over the paprika. I get to measuring.
“I thought about it. Wouldn’t be a bad gig, honestly. But a restaurant was always the dream with my dad.” Kru smiles and crosses his arms as he watches me finish up the dishes that were waiting on the paprika.
“Your dad would be so proud of your place,” I tell him as I pass him the jar. “I know I never met him, but I just know he would be.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners again. He hooks his arm around my shoulders and smashes me against him in a hug. “Aw, thanks, Pipefitter.”
“No problem, Motley Kru.”
The laughter that rumbles through his chest feels like a balm. I slide my arms around his thick torso and nestle against him. God, this feels good.
“I should let you get back to cooking,” he says into the top of my head.
“Yeah. Don’t you have a restaurant that’s open right now?” I don’t let go of him though.
“Brady’s working on handling the slower hours solo to see how he does. That gives me a chance to take a quick break. I haven’t gotten any emergency calls yet, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
I squeeze my arms a little tighter around him. “Maybe you can just stay here until you get that emergency call then.”
He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my head back until our gazes lock. His caramel brown eyes are so deep, so mesmerizing. When he cocks a grin, I almost lose it. This man is too attractive.
I need him inside me. Again .
And my brother isn’t due home for at least another hour, so this all works out perfectly.
“Come on. What do you think?” I snake a hand between our bodies, seeking the front of his pants. I rub my hand over his bulge so he gets the message. He grunts, rocking his hips against my hand.
“Maven. You are insatiable.” He coaxes a sloppy, sexy kiss from my lips and then he grabs me by the hips, popping me onto the countertop. I wriggle my hips, pushing the cutting board off to the side.
“And you aren’t?” I retort.
He scans the kitchen, reaching for the butcher knife on the cutting board. He flips my apron off to the side and pins the hem to the cutting board with the knife with a loud THWACK. His evil grin tells me all I need to know.
“That’s called mise en place ,” he says. “Everything needs to be in the correct place before beginning. All tools and ingredients within easy reach.”
“And my vagina is one of the ingredients?” I ask with a laugh.
“Correct. The absolute backbone of the dish.”
We both burst into laughter. My forehead drops to his shoulder as his hands snake along my waist under the apron, tugging at the waist of my leggings. His fingers skate hot and exploring along my bare waist, sending shivers along my spine.
“God, you’re a dream,” I murmur as his hands push up beneath my bra. “Just don’t cut this bra off, okay? It’s my favorite.”
“Heard,” he whispers, just as he covers my mouth with his. He kisses me slowly and carefully. Like he’s memorizing the experience and also savoring it. Every inch of my body is tingling when the kiss ends, and I clutch at the front of his shirt, drawing deep breaths.
“You are such a good kisser,” I admit.
“So are you,” he whispers into my ear before nibbling at my lobe. More electricity. I squeeze my legs together. Damn, he knows how to get me riled up in no time flat.
Just as I’m about to demand he produce a condom right this second, I hear a very familiar rumble from outside.
A rumble that doesn’t make sense.
I perk up, listening as the noise comes closer.
“Oh my god…” I mutter. It’s a car. Griffin’s car, to be precise.
Pulling into the driveway.
“Oh my god ,” I repeat as I hear the engine cut. I push at Kru’s chest. “You have to leave. My brother is here. Oh my fucking god you have to get out of here now!”
His eyes widen and he nods. “All right. I’m gone.”
He bolts for the front door but I bark out, “No! Back door! HURRY! ”
My heart is in my throat as Kru corrects course and bolts for the sliding glass door. He pulls it open, slips out, and is gone a moment later over the back fence. Two seconds later, Griffin comes in the front.
He smiles amicably at me as he wanders into the kitchen.
Where I am currently pinned to the cutting board with a butcher knife.
“Hey Piper. What’s uh…” His brow furrows as he spots the way my predicament. “What’s going on here?”
I pop on a bright smile. “Hey! You’re home early!” I’m gritting my teeth so hard I feel like my head might explode from the effort of appearing casual. I wonder if he can see how my chest is pulsating from my rapid heart rate. I might pass out, in fact.
“Yeah, I got out of my event a little early and just came straight here to help out.” He blinks, his gaze glued to the cutting board. “Is this how you meal prep?”