CHAPTER TWENTY
P IPER
I wake up the next morning horny, confused, and extremely well-rested. The last thing I remember is lying in my bed, waiting for a text from Kru to hear how his night was going.
“Shit.” I fumble to grab my phone, which spent the whole night unplugged on the bedspread beside me. I swipe to see all my missed notifications. There’s one from Bella, who confirmed she and Jackson made it to LA from the Cleveland airport last night. All the rest are from Kru throughout the night.
KRU: Whatcha doin, girlfriend?
KRU: I don’t mean that in the sassy side character way. I mean that in the “I am your boyfriend” sort of way.
KRU: Last customer is almost out and I’m getting ready to come home.
KRU: Don’t tell me you’re ghosting me a second time.
KRU: You awake? I bet you fell asleep already…
KRU: Sleepy Pipesqueak? You there?
I hurry to tap out a message, my stomach sinking. This is not a great start to our brand-new relationship.
PIPER: OMG. Fell asleep at nine last night and just woke up.
It’s six a.m. I don’t expect a response this early.
I roll out of bed and get my bearings on the day.
After freshening up in the bathroom, I get dressed to open Cloud Nine—bright leggings, a fluffy sweater, and a wide pink headband to complement my high ponytail.
Once I’m ready to head to the shop, I check my phone.
Nothing from Kru. I need to make this up to him, and I think about how I might do it as I hop on my bike and head to work.
I get the shop turned on and humming. I start with a latte, of course, followed by arranging my early orders and getting things prepped for Jerrica to take over.
She’s been helping out a lot more lately, and I have to say I like it.
It’s been a huge relief to know I can hand the reins over to someone who is here frequently and can keep up with the tiny details.
I’ve scheduled some downtime at the house today to get more meal prep done, this time for Mom for when she comes home, so it’ll be a lot easier than meal prepping for Griffin.
My brothers and I spent a lot of time yesterday figuring out what would make the most sense once Mom is home, and I jumped on the chance to make the meals after so many years of having meals made for me by her.
Kru finally responds around nine.
KRU: Damn. Sure wish I’d woken up with you in my bed.
PIPER: Can you take a lunch break today? After your lunch rush is done, of course. I want to make it up to you.
KRU: What time? And where?
PIPER: I’m stuck in the kitchen at Griff’s house all day. Just go there whenever you’re done feeding the masses.
KRU: You sure it’s safe?
PIPER: Positive. There’s some team function he’s attending in Cleveland today so he won’t be back until at least five.
KRU: You got it, Piperdelle.
I’m elbows deep in attempting to recreate Mom’s famous lasagna when I hear the knock on the front door.
I squeal— it’s my boyfriend! —and hurry over to the front door.
Except I forgot to take my oven mitts off, so there’s a bit of an awkward struggle with the doorknob before I finally just whip the mitts off and pull the door open.
“Hey.” Kru’s effortless smile immediately woos me. He’s in his standard dark Henley and black cargo work pants, the attire he wears when he’s not in his black chef’s coat.
“Kiss me,” I say, and he’s closing the distance between us before I’m even done saying the words.
He scoops me up into his strong arms, hoisting me so that my legs close around him.
I giggle through the kiss. I feel so safe and secure in his arms, I never want to leave them.
The door swings shut behind us as he walks into the house.
He props me on the kitchen island, taking a step back to admire me, squeezing my thighs.
“Mmm. Now this is the best lunch break.” He dives back in for another kiss, our tongues meeting in the middle.
We make out, hot and heavy, until my timer goes off.
The lasagna is done. I gasp, sidling out from underneath him to open the oven.
I slip on the mitts before I pull the big casserole dish out of the oven.
It looks perfect. Kru lets out a low whistle as I place it on the stovetop.
“So that’s how you wanted to make it up to me?” he asks.
I swat his arm. “This is for my mom when she gets home. I want her to have all her meals taken care of for the next week.”
“Sweet of you.” He presses a kiss to my temple.
“ Your gift is right here.” I sling my arms around his neck, pressing my body to his. “I realize now that this may be slightly underwhelming, but my body is yours.”
“Mmm. I’ve never heard sexier words.” His lips are on mine again, and we’re kissing long, slow, deep.
These kisses have my head spinning and my pulse racing.
I’m back on the countertop, his body filling the space between my legs.
The thick ridge of his arousal presses against my inner thigh, sending desire skating beneath my skin.
“You done cooking for now?” he asks, sounding drugged. His gaze is stuck on my lips. “We need to take this party elsewhere.”
“Mm-hmm.” I can’t form words. “Mmm.”
He hoists me into his arms again, carrying me out of the kitchen and deeper into the house. When we pass through the living room, I wriggle my hips.
“Here,” I gasp out. “I can’t wait.”
Kru gently lowers me onto the couch and then tears his Henley off.
My gaze trips over his muscled chest, the dark hair scattered across his pecs and down the center of his belly.
I reach for him, bringing him down on top of me.
The warmth of his body is a welcome balm; every cell inside me sighs with relief.
Shit. Is that normal for a new relationship? To feel this head-spinny? I’ll think about that later—right now, this chef god is showering me with kisses, head moving lower to lavish attention over the pink lace of my bra, which he exposed by pushing my sweater up.
I grind up against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. A rough groan erupts from him as he matches my movements.
“Fuck, Piper. You weren’t kidding.”
“I need you inside me,” I whisper into his ear. “Please, Kru. Now.”
He pulls the lace bra down, covering my nipple with his tongue then closing his lips around the rosy bud.
I squirm against him as he does it again and then moves to the other side.
He sits back, pulling me up so he can gently remove the sweater and then my bra, no knives needed this time since it’s a front clasp.
He revisits each nipple and then kisses his way down my belly to the waistband of my leggings.
He nuzzles in between my legs, looking up at me with heat in his gaze.
“Late lunch,” he says with a cocksure smile.
I’m so focused on him I barely notice the slam.
The heavy thuds across the floor, followed by three words that slice through my body from head to toe:
“ What the fuck ?”
It’s Griffin.
But that doesn’t make sense. I can’t even begin to pair his voice with the fact that Kru is on top of me until I see a huge hand fly through the air.
Everything happens in a blur after that. One moment Kru's between my thighs, the next he's being hauled off me by a furious Griffin. I scramble to cover myself, grabbing my discarded sweater as Kru is pushed to the floor.
Griff heads for Kru, who scrambles to his feet.
“Get the fuck off of my sister!” he bellows. I’ve never heard him so angry. I’m struggling to get my bra fastened as I watch Griffin close the gap between them in two powerful steps.
Kru holds up his hands. “It’s not what you think—”
But Griffin doesn’t care. He swings anyway, primal mode activated. His fist connects with the side of Kru’s face. Kru stumbles backward, clutching at his cheek while a string of curse words fall from his lips.
“Griffin, stop!” I shout.
But he’s not listening.
"It's exactly what I think!" Griffin lunges forward, but Kru sidesteps him, hands lifted again. I can tell my brother is ready to punch again. My bra snaps into place and I race forward, inserting myself between Griffin’s fist and Kru.
“Stop!” I scream. “I invited him.”
Griffin freezes, fist still in the air. His chest is heaving, face full of confusion. “No fucking way.”
“Let him go. He did nothing wrong,” I plead, my voice shaking. Kru is keeping is cool remarkably well, despite being attacked by my rhinoceros of a brother. “Put this down.” I guide his fist lower, out of punching range of Kru’s face.
“Why the fuck would you invite this piece of shit into my house?” Griffin spits.
His words land like the punch his hand couldn’t inflict. To both me and Kru. I can see him wince.
“He’s not a piece of shit,” I correct him. “We’re together .”
Griffin blinks slowly, like he's processing information in a foreign language. "Together?”
“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.”
Griff’s eyes go wide, which make me think I could have improved the transition a bit better. “No fucking way.”
Kru offers a helpful smile. The side of his face is already red from where Griff landed a punch.
“There’s no way in hell you’d be with someone like him,” Griff tells me. “He’s the enemy.”
“I prefer the term ‘friendly neighborhood chef,’” Kru offers.
“Nobody asked you,” Griffin warns, sliding his forearm across Kru’s throat. To me, he says, “Are you punking me right now? This is the guy who kicked you out of your apartment.”
“I did give her notice,” Kru adds. “Politely.”
“Shut up,” Griffin growls at him.
“Griffin,” I start.
“This shit isn’t funny, Piper. Snap out of it! You're dating your landlord? Do you know how many horror stories start this way?"
“We could consider this more of a rom-com,” Kru says helpfully.
Griffin brings his face extra close to Kru. “I was not asking you, Chef Boyardee.”
“Guys, stop it. Griffin, let him go. We all need to take a deep breath.” Including me, because right now, my heart is pounding so hard I think I’m going to pass out.