“With Gary?”

  “Maybe.” I twisted my fingers free. “Maybe someone else.”

  His dark eyes went nearly black. “Who?”

  This wasn’t the first time he’d been jealous. And for no good reason, then. But now there was a dangerous bite to his voice. I would not be excited about that.

  It was called a red flag.

  Not a panty-flaming flag.

  But no one had ever been possessive of me in my life. I didn’t incite those sorts of feelings in people.

  He walked around the table and ushered me toward the back room. I tried to look around him, but he was practically looming over me.

  “I’m working.” I flattened my hands against his rock-hard belly. God, I missed touching him.

  “You can take a five minute break.”

  “There’s a line of people.”

  His hand slid along my hip, those long fingers covering so much ground. “I don’t care.”

  “Arrogant, self-important ass.” My heart hammered in my ears as he crowded into me, walking me backwards. I tried to push back at him, but it was like going against high tide.

  “Keep insulting me, and see where it gets you.”

  The throbbing went decidedly south, followed by a lick of…panic? I recognized the sign, but it didn’t feel like my usual panic attacks. This was different. Maybe.

  What the hell were we doing?

  “The back is for employees only.” God, did I sound desperate? Grasping at all of the straws.

  “Exceptions can be made.”

  “It’s for insurance purposes. What if something—happened?” I was pretty sure those straws were scattered all around my feet now.

  My back bumped into the door. He slid his arm around me to the door handle and it didn’t budge.

  “What’s the code?” His thigh slid between my legs. “Want me to ask again? Want me to kiss you in front of all these people?”

  My mouth dried. “You wouldn’t.”

  He crowded me tighter into the door. “I would.”

  “Aunt Laverne would kill you.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. You haven’t been around this place much in a long damn time, Rachel. Laverne lives to be a matchmaker.”

  My heart tripped for a whole different reason. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I’d do just about anything to get you under me right now. But those pretty lips will do for now.” He lowered his head. “What’s the code?”

  What was the code? My mind was utterly blank.

  He lifted his knee a little and my brain nearly went offline. But it choked out one last hail Mary. “Three-three-seven.”

  The tiny beep of entry had us both stumbling into the back room. He let the heavy door slam behind him and wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me up off my toes as he covered my mouth.

  He tasted of cinnamon and that pine scent of him wrapped around me as tight as his arms.

  I should have kneed him in the balls, but instead, I looped my arm around his shoulders and went in for more.

  I hadn’t realized how much I missed him. Missed his taste. My feet dangled and I felt weightless as he supported me. I still had no clue where he’d learned to do the kissing thing, but he was master class level. Again, I didn’t want to think about him kissing anyone or the practice sessions.

  I wanted to be the only one he practiced with. And that was far too scary a thought for me.

  It broke through the kiss and I pulled away. “You can’t just barge in here and kiss me like this.”

  His eyebrow rose. “I can’t? I think I am.”

  I tried to wiggle free, but he held me fast. “Well, stop.”

  He leaned in and caught my mouth in a slow, thorough and winding kiss. “You sure?” he asked against my mouth. He flicked that ridiculously talented tongue along my lower lip, then the little dent in my upper lip. “It doesn’t feel like you want me to stop.”

  My eyelids slid down of their own volition and I hummed a low groan. “Just because you’re good at this doesn’t mean we should be kissing. God,” I slid my fingers in his hair to line us up. “God,” I mumbled against his mouth and my legs came up around his waist so I could get a little higher.

  He tipped his head back as I propped myself on his shoulders. He was like a damn drug. I forced my eyes open and looked down at him. “What are you doing to me?”

  He grinned. “Kissing you.” He nipped my lower lip. “Watching these perfect lips get all puffy from my mouth.” He nuzzled his nose along mine then brushed his lips over mine before going for my chin with a scrape of those perfect, even teeth. “Kissing this long, delicious neck.” He buried his mouth behind my ear, his voice a rumble. “Did you know you smell like my favorite thing in all the world?”

  “I do?” I gave him a little more access and tried to form words.

  “Blackberries. Summertime tart, with this burst of flavor that is so damn surprising.” He nipped right behind my ear and I hissed.

  “If you gave me a hickey…” I still gave him access because mercy, it felt good. He wasn’t as scruffy as he usually was. Nearly clean-shaven, actually. It showed off so many more angles in his face.

  “I did.” His voice was low and devious. “I like my marks on you.” His fingers gripped my ass. “Do you still have my scruff marks between your thighs, Rach?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t exactly put my head between my thighs.” Nor did I stare at myself in a full length mirror—ever.

  He fit me tighter against his middle. “I’ll rectify that.”

  “Who says you’ll be in my bed again?”

  “Oh, you will. Or you’ll be in mine. It is much bigger.” He gripped my hair with his other hand. “I wouldn’t mind having all this dark hair spread out on my pillow tonight. To watch you wake up in the morning.”

  “We have a lot of work to do.”

  “And we can do some of it naked.”

  I couldn’t stop the laugh. “Not sure any work gets done when we’re naked.”

  “Let me cook for you. You can tell me what you’ve been up to.” He let me slide down his body.

  I was a little off-balance when my feet hit the floor. “Why?”

  “Because I want to spend time with you. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes.”

  The reply was so quick, I didn’t have time to curb my damn mouth.

  He cupped my face in his hands. “Well, start believing it. Maybe we don’t have a lot of time together, but I’d rather make the most of it than pretend I don’t want you.”

  My stomach flipped and I wanted to deny it. But I wasn’t sure which part I would be denying.

  Wanting him or wanting it to only be for a limited time?

  “I get off at four.”

  “No, you’ll be getting off around four-thirty, but I’ll pick you up at four.”

  I punched him in the middle. “Arrogant, pain in my ass.”

  “You like it.” He lowered his mouth to mine again, the kiss hot and fast as lightning. It left my whole body smoking like a strike as well.

  Then he was gone.

  A minute later, Taylor came through the door. “You have some explaining to do, lady.”

  I winced. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because one, I have a camera set up in here.”

  My face flamed.

  “And two, I need a man to kiss me like that.”

  I put my head in my hands. “No, you don’t. He’s so much trouble.”

  “Well, give me all of that trouble. Times twenty.”

  I giggled. “Stop.” Before she could open her mouth again, I shook my head. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re just…scratching an itch.”

  “It looked like a lot more than that.”

  Yeah, and that was the problem.

  There was a rap against the door. “Hey, it’s getting busy out here.”

  “Saved by the customers.” I hurried to the door.

  “This discussion isn’t over.”

  Oh, it definitely was. I didn’t even know what was going on with us myself, never mind trying to explain it to someone.

  Hopefully, Taylor would forget soon enough. Even if I knew there was nothing temporary about how long I’d remember Clay.

  Chapter 14

  Clay

  Bossy Women Are My Catnip

  “You can’t serve brownies with carbonara.”

  I looked up from the bag of ingredients I was offloading onto my counter. “Why not? I already put them in the oven.”

  Ransom slumped into the chair at my breakfast bar. “You’re an animal.”

  “Look, there’s not a lot of options for dessert when it comes to Turnbull. Especially in the evening. Most of the bakeries are early to start and early to close. And everyone likes chocolate.”

  I slid the white butcher paper-wrapped pancetta onto the granite counter. I was going to make the Italian version of carbonara, which was the perfect light fare. Mainly because I wanted to feed Rachel, not knock her out.

  I had lots of plans that included very little clothes.

  “That’s no excuse.” He picked at the edge of one of the menus tucked against the post.

  “You can do better?”

  He glanced up with a shrug.

  I rolled my eyes and gathered everything to put it in the fridge. It would only take a few minutes to cook so I hadn’t bothered making it ahead of time. Especially considering we might get sidetracked, if I had my way.

  “Okay, I have to go pick her up.”

  “What are you doing, man?”

  I paused with my hand on the fridge handle. “Picking up Rachel?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

  “Look, I know I have to eventually do…the thing. If for no other reason than to…” I trailed off.

  “Than to?”

  Reid was a sore subject when it came to Ransom. Maybe even more so than with me for a whole different reason. “Look, Reid had his eye on Helena. I don’t like it.”

  Ransom sat up. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, that explains the hero treatment. You’re an asshole. Now you have two women fucked up?”

  I turned and crossed my arms. “What? No.”

  He mirrored me with a hard look. “You have your little snow bunny here—”

  “Don’t call her that.”

  Ransom’s eyebrow quirked. “Just a distraction, isn’t that right?”

  I gave him a narrowed-eyed stare. “It’s complicated.”

  “You’re making it complicated. Just man up and tell the old man you’re not into Helena.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It is.”

  “You didn’t see how Reid was looking at her. She was scared, man.”

  The muscle in Ransom’s cheek flexed. “Reid might be a grade-A dick, but he doesn’t hurt women.”

  “Are you kidding? He plows through women like they’re a Day Trading commodity.”

  “Yeah, but he only messes with the ones who like to be on his arm for a night, and you know it. He doesn’t mess with pedigreed women like Danbury.”

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t there. For once.”

  He slid off the chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re up my ass most of the time.”

  “That’s what you pay me for, dickwad.”

  I almost laughed. I was pretty sure he hadn’t called me that since we were fourteen years old. I rubbed my temple. “I’m not sure what is going on between them, but I’m not going to leave her hanging like that.”

  “What, so you’re going to marry her, because maybe Reid is sniffing around her? That’s asinine.” He shook his head. “Even more than you usually are.”

  “I didn’t say it was bright, it’s just easier.”

  “Easier? To marry someone you’re not into? My parents did that, man. I don’t advise it. Makes for a very shitty marriage and an even shittier way to fuck up your kids.”

  I pressed my knuckles into the countertop. He was right. Ransom’s whole family had been split up, thanks to a single moment in our lives. A mistake that had a ripple effect and had turned three friends into enemies for a long ass time.

  And here I was, making another idiotic announcement as a knee-jerk reaction to the situation. Just like I’d done that night so long ago. Only this time, I’d been the one trying to save the girl. If I’d done that the first time around, things might have been so damn different.

  “Helena is the perfect choice for what I should want.”

  “Should is the operative word, man.”

  My watch beeped out a reminder to leave to pick up Rachel. I grabbed my keys from the counter. “I gotta go.”

  “Still an asshole.”

  “Can I just have this? She makes me happy.”

  “Good. That’s the important part. Living for other people only causes misery. Grab onto what you need, Clay.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that one. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually grabbed what I wanted, let alone what I needed.

  “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “She works like ten minutes away.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to see if she’ll help me pick out a tree.”

  He relaxed back in the chair. “Man, you are sunk.”

  I jangled the keys in my hand. “Maybe I am.”

  Ten minutes later—damn Ransom and his know-it-all ways—I was waiting outside the gift shop. The sun was making its speedy descent into the trees. November was usually the darkest and brightest month in my life.

  The escape to the tree farm from my city life usually bolstered me for another year. It wasn’t as if I hated my work. But those expectations sat heavy some days. When I was in Turnbull, I was just Clay.

  I didn’t have it in me not to be a boss in some way or another, but at least here I could actually see things come to fruition. The trees literally grew and were pruned for maximum happiness, sometimes for a family, sometimes for a business. But in the end, they were a frozen moment in time.

  The door to the gift shop flew open and Rachel’s dark hair swirled around her shoulders. As usual, she wasn’t dressed for the cold—well, except for her crocheted items. A cranberry-red scarf and hat made her skin practically glow.

  The rest of her was clad in black on black. The tight black jeans had about taken me out earlier, especially when she’d wrapped those strong legs around me. But now, she’d swapped out her sneakers for sexy knee-high boots with a heel. She’d even glossed on some lip stuff which I would enjoy smudging.

  She’d primped for me. That had to be a good sign.

  I pushed off the bumper of my truck and crossed to her. She looked around before tucking her hair behind her ear. Not that it helped. The wind was whipping around us in typical mid-November fashion.

  I’d missed the few warmer days Turnbull had through the weekend. The cold pinked up her cheeks, adding to her natural glow. Then she gave me that slow, shy smile and my chest tightened.

  I lowered my mouth to hers.

  She backed away. “Anyone could see us out here.”

  I took her hand and dragged her forward to my truck. “Do you think I really care?”

  “You should,” she whispered. “You pulled one hell of a stunt earlier.”

  I opened the truck door. “Ashamed to be seen with me?”

  She climbed up and sat down. “More like I don’t want you to get ideas.” She reached for the handle. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

  My lips twitched. “What if you fall first?”

  “I won’t. One of us has to be the smart one.” She slammed the door.

  She was right. I hated it, but she was right.

  I went around to my side of the truck and got in. She was twisting her fingers into pretzels. I laid my hand over her cold ones. “I’m sorry about earlier. You just make me a little nuts and I’m not used to that.”

  “Probably because you are the one driving the other woman nuts.” Her words were tight, but she stroked my hand with her thumb.

  “Maybe.” I slid my hand away and started the truck. “Hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Think you can hold off for a little errand first?”

  “If you’re busy, you don’t need to—”

  I leaned over and shut her up with a quick kiss. “The errand includes you.”

  Her big blue eyes searched mine. Finally, she sighed. “Okay.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Just drive.”

  I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the back road that led to the shortcut to the tree farm. She perked up as she figured out where we were going.

  “Oh, I can show you what we did.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “Where are we going then?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I headed to the back of the farm, where the hybrids were. I’d been cultivating one of my own at the very back of my property. We had the seedlings and the first year trees doing their thing toward the front of the property. Once we cut down the hybrids, we’d let the soil rest for a season and start again—tweaking where necessary of course. The new trees had been created with both science and art. We’d know more when we finally got feedback this year.

  I’d been nurturing a few trees in particular. The business side of me said I should use them for sales only, but I wanted one with me this year. With her—a little something selfish before I had to be the responsible Winslow I was supposed to be.

  I parked at the edge of the quadrant I knew better than my own house. Rachel craned her neck, the fading light of the day shimmering golden on her skin.

  “Where are we?”

  “You’ll see.” I slid out of the truck. Before I could go around to open her door for her, she jumped out.

  I reached into the flatbed of my truck for my saw and gloves. When she met me at the tailgate, she halted with those summer sky eyes wide.

  “What?”

  “Am I going to be on a podcast someday?”

  I frowned. “What?”

  She peered into the truck. “What, no hatchet?”

  “Actually, I do have one, but this is easier.” I held up the saw. “Cuts cleaner.”