4. Jordan
JORDAN
Kylie was in my kitchen, wearing a pink apron that had white splotches all over it.
I had to assume those splotches were flour, based on the delicious aroma of pastries coming from her side of the room.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun that I wanted to run my fingers through.
Or maybe brush it for her and then twist into a single braid down her back.
Fuck, she’d look good with a braid down her back as I fucked her from behind.
Well, that wasn’t even a tiny bit appropriate. She was my tenant, apparently.
When the fuck did that happen, anyway? I forced myself to look away for a full five seconds before I had to check on her again just to make sure I wasn’t imagining her. I couldn’t help myself. She was just gorgeous and sticky and happy and…perfect. More perfect than most women I knew.
While I was staring, I accidentally knocked over a pan on the edge of my counter. It crashed to the ground, interrupting my view because she looked up and caught me gawking at her like a teenager.
Smooth, Jordan. Real smooth.
It took a minute of me standing there staring before I realized she was staring too. Shit.
I picked up the pot I’d dropped, checked the lamb, and forced myself to actually look at what I was doing instead of at the woman just a few yards away from me, but my line of sight kept sliding sideways no matter how hard I tried to pin it down.
What was she even doing there? She worked at a coffee shop.
There was only one way to get the information I needed, so I waited until Magda passed by and nodded for her to come closer.
She’d obviously clocked the weird tension in the air between Kylie and me because the smirk she flashed was all too knowing. “I see you’ve met your new neighbor.”
"Um, not really." I cleared my throat and turned my back so there was less chance of my voice carrying across the room. “But what’s she working on? It smells good.”
Magda rolled her eyes like she didn’t buy my innocent act for a single second. "Kylie is starting a cake business, I guess. She’s sweet, but I can tell she’s nervous about taking on a venture like this."
"I see." I opened the fridge and reached for an egg I didn’t need just for the excuse to look at Kylie again. She was standing over her sink and ducked her head the second I looked in her direction. Caught ya, cutie.
Magda barked out a laugh as she backed away from my counter. She knew exactly why I was asking about one particular tenant when I’d never asked about any of the others. Ever. "If you want to know more than that, go ask her yourself. I'm not running a matchmaking service here."
Now it was my turn to laugh. “You totally would if I let you. And don’t worry, I’ll…say hi.”
I needed to keep my head in the game or I’d end up dumping everything I was in the middle of cooking. The lamb needed constant attention, and the second my focus wandered, it was all over. Unfortunately, mine wandered constantly.
And every time it did, it was in the direction of the pretty little baker I wanted to strike up a conversation with. But I didn’t want to interrupt her time in the kitchen. She was paying by the hour and deserved to get her money's worth.
So I watched as discreetly as possible.
Even from a distance, I could clearly see that Kylie was in her element. She moved fluidly and had been dancing and humming around before she noticed me. She moved around her station with purpose, checking on something in the oven and nodding to herself when she was satisfied.
My curiosity was killing me.
How was the stranger in the neighboring kitchen so much more interesting than the cookbook I’d been trying to write for years.
Then again, she wasn't actually a stranger. She’d been making my coffee with a smile for weeks and was the bright spot of every day I saw her.
Painfully aware that her time was likely coming to an end, I checked the clock on the wall again. It was almost two.
I didn't know what her exact schedule looked like, but since the kitchen opening was only for the mornings, I assumed she was gonna be heading out soon. Too soon.
In just a few minutes, she'd start to pack up and walk out that door, and I'd have nothing left to do but pretend she was just like everyone else.
But she wasn't like everyone else. She wasn’t like anyone else.
She was perfect.
And it was time I grew a pair and asked her out. I could be cool about it and not come across as a stalker. It wasn’t as if I’d followed her here. Although, there was a good chance she’d assume I did. Dammit.
"Jordan." Magda's voice cut through my little internal pep talk before I could figure out a plan. "You got a second? Contractor's on the phone about the deck permit."
Of course he was.
I took the call in the hallway, half listening to the dude explain a setback issue I didn’t have time to deal with. By the time I got rid of him, Kylie was already cleaning up.
I went back to my station to pull out my lamb, but the second I lifted the lid, I knew it was too late.
It was gray and gross and there was no way it was edible. "Fuck."
I thought I said it under my breath, but I was apparently not quiet enough. When I looked up, Kylie was turned toward me before she went back to wiping down her counter like she hadn't heard a thing.
Great.
I felt like a total rookie for ruining $200 in lamb because I was more focused on a woman from the coffee shop than the food in front of me. But that was old news, and Kylie was officially about to leave.
With no time to waste, I knew what I had to do. I left the pan exactly where it was and walked over before I could talk myself out of it.
She looked up when I got close, adjusting the tote bag hanging off her shoulder. "Hi."
"Hey." I nodded back toward my disaster of a kitchen. "Sorry about the language. Bad day for lamb."
"I noticed." She bit back a laugh, glancing past me. "It smelled good there for a while."
"Yeah, until I overcooked it because I wasn't paying attention." I hoped she didn’t ask me to elaborate on why. "You're new here."
"Yep. My first day." She gestured at the pound cake on the counter, wrapped and ready to take with her. "I'm starting a cake business. Well, I guess I technically already started it, and I needed a better kitchen."
"That's incredible." She was incredible. "Will you be leaving the coffee shop?"
"No, not at all. I love it there. But I’ve wanted to do this for a while, so I’m giving it a shot." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she decided whether to say what was really on her mind. "So, you're a chef?"
"Used to be." I always tried to be humble. Not just with her but with anyone who didn't already know my full résumé. "I’ve cooked professionally for a while, but I’m working on a cookbook now. Well, I’m supposed to be, but my focus has been shit today."
She cocked her head like she was concentrating then held out her hand. “I’m not wearing my nametag now, so you might not remember, but I’m Kylie.”
"I remember." I held her gaze for a long moment and then smiled. "I'm Jordan, by the way. In case you don’t remember."
"I remember." Her voice was soft, almost breathy. "Nice to officially meet you, Chef."
"Please…” I forced out a chuckle, but it was more like an awkward bark. “Jordan's fine."
"We'll see." She glanced at the clock in the same way I'd been doing for the last twenty minutes. "I should get going, but I'll probably be back tomorrow, if you're around."
My time was up. "Yeah, I’m always around…way more than I should be."
That got another smile out of her.
For a second neither of us said anything else, trying to figure out if there was a reason to keep talking.
"Well." She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and reached for the container of cake she was taking with her. "Good luck with the lamb situation."
"Thanks."
She nodded and headed for the door.
I stood there and watched for a few seconds before I followed after her. “Kylie, wait.”