When I reach the kitchen, I find Lyndee slowly walking along the back wall, taking in the storage shelving system. She stands in the shadows, the one remaining strip of light barely reaching her slender frame. “These are impressive,” she says without turning around, clearly hearing me enter the room.
With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I make my way to where she stands. “We spared no expense when it came to the kitchen but had to cut costs elsewhere. The original storage units were cheaply made, even though they still cost a pretty penny. After we had our first profitable year, I asked for replacements. I knew these would be expensive, but they are so worth it. We’ve not had one issue with sagging under the weight, and they’re made of steel. Best upgrade we’ve made so far,” I tell her, watching her profile as she takes it all in.
“Someday, maybe I’ll have shelves like these too,” she replies longingly.
I take a step closer, eager to catch her sweet scent, but all I smell is grease and meat. It actually makes me smile, because now she smells like me. Like my kitchen. My business. It makes me want to kiss her.
Clearing my throat, I make sure my hands are still shoved in my pockets to keep from reaching out. “What brought you in to Burgers and Brew tonight?”
She shrugs her shoulders and moves away, finishing up her trip around the kitchen. “Dustin had gone home already. He was super tired from the day and wanted to rest, so I said I’d bring home dinner after I finished up at the bakery.”
My heartbeat kicks up a few notches as guilt sweeps in. “That was hours ago,” I state, noticing it’s already nearing eleven.
“It’s okay. Jameson ran a sandwich to him earlier,” she says. “When I was out by the entrance, preparing to place an order with your hostess, Jameson came out and saw me. We were chatting for a few minutes before he left me to order. A few minutes later he came back and asked if I could help out in the kitchen. He promised to check on Dustin and make sure he had food, so I agreed to help you.”
I’m not sure which I’m annoyed at more: the fact he was, again, all chummy with Lyndee, or the fact he asked her to help when it wasn’t his call to make.
We finally make our way back to the doorway. “I think Jameson put my coat somewhere,” she states, glancing around.
“I bet I know,” I reply, heading to my office. As I go to get my own coat off the hook behind my door, I find a much smaller, feminine one hanging on top of it. I grab it, the familiar scent of sugar and cinnamon wraps around me like a warm blanket. When I bring it to my nose and inhale like some creepy pervert, my cock notices and springs to life.
Returning to the main kitchen, I hand her the coat and watch as she slips it on. Realization sets in. She’s about to leave, and I don’t want that to happen. I want to spend more time with her. “Do you want to come over to the bar with me? Jameson is playing, and he’s pretty good. You can have a drink before I take you home.”
She finishes shrugging on the coat and faces me. “You don’t have to take me home,” she counters, starting to zip the fluffy outerwear closed.
“You’re not walking, Lyndee. It’s late.”
“I only live a short distance, Jasper. I don’t need an escort.” She lifts her head, meeting my gaze head on. What’s crazy is the way my cock stirs to life by her firmness. It’s a huge fucking turn-on, even if I want to paddle her ass for being so cavalier with her safety at night.
“Maybe not, but you’re getting one,” I argue, placing my hand on her back and guiding her through the kitchen, out the back door, and down the hallway. We don’t allow just anyone back here. The employee break room, staff restrooms, and bar storage is this way.
We pass the stairs leading to Isaac’s office, as well as the spaces for Walker and Jameson, the sound of my friend playing Eric Clapton on his guitar growing louder with each step we take. I open the door that separates the back area from the bar and am greeted with a standing room of patrons, their eyes all cast toward the small stage where Jameson plays.
At the bar, I find Isaac sitting on the stool at the end and Walker pouring a draft beer. Lyndee’s attention is automatically pulled in the direction of everyone else’s, even after we stop beside Isaac. “Wow,” she mumbles to no one in particular.
“He’s pretty damn good,” Isaac replies, sipping a glass of amber liquid and pulling her attention from where Jameson plays.
“He is. I love this song,” she adds, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.
And I love watching her. I find myself mesmerized by her eyes and the way they widen ever so slightly when she’s excited. The way she nibbles on her lips when she’s concentrating. The way her cheeks flush the most gorgeous shade of pink when she’s nervous. And the way her mouth looks ripe for kissing under any light.
“What can I get you?” Walker asks, his eyes flicking between myself and the woman beside me.
“Just a Coke, please,” Lyndee replies with a flash grin before returning her gaze to Jameson.
“I’ll just have a water.” Walker gives me a questioning look before grabbing two glasses, filling one with pop and the other with ice water. He pops a straw in each and slides them across the bar.
We listen to two more songs, and as much as I try to ignore the way her slender body brushes against mine as she sways to the music, it’s hard.
As am I.
Lyndee yawns for the fifth time in a matter of minutes, which has me sliding my half-empty glass toward the edge of the bar and reaching into my coat pocket for my keys. “We should get you home. You’re about to fall asleep standing up.”
She doesn’t argue, just places her glass down on the counter and turns to face Numbers. “It was nice to see you again,” she says politely.
“Hey, thanks for helping out tonight. I want to pay you for your time,” he says, reaching for an envelope in his dress shirt pocket, but Lyndee is already holding up her hands in protest.
“No, absolutely not. I was helping friends.”
He hesitates, clearly not happy with her not accepting the cash in the envelope.
She reaches over and places a hand on his forearm. Jealousy gurgles in my stomach like bad sushi. “Please. I was happy to help.”
Numbers slips the envelope back into his pocket and smiles. “Anytime you need help across the street, just holler.”
Now she grins, a breathtaking smile that transforms her already gorgeous face into something so stunning, an ocean sunset would be envious. “I will.”
While Lyndee steps away, I slap him on the back, a little harder than I probably should. “I’m running her home. Be back later.”
His smirk is all-knowing. “Jameson and I will help close. Don’t worry about it. Take the night and…relax.”
I don’t acknowledge his comment or the teasing innuendo behind it. Instead, I guide Lyndee toward the way we came. As I push out the back door, I click the fob in my pocket, starting my car. The air is chilled and crisp and feels good against my warm skin. Maybe it’ll help calm the raging desire I seem to be carrying around like a backpack whenever she’s near.
“I can walk, Jasper, really,” she counters, her gait hesitant as we approach my ride.
“Don’t argue with me,” I state, unlocking the doors and opening the passenger one. “Please just get in the car.”