Well, we’d done it, and that fact was even more surprising. I was a one-and-done kind of girl, maybe two if I was lucky and it’s been a while, but never three or four. Or more.
Yet despite the fact that my body still hummed with pleasure, still vibrated like he was behind me, gripping me tight as he pounded into me, I felt guilt. Because I left. I’d gotten up, showered, and thrown my hair up in bun, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from my closet so I could get dressed downstairs. And I did it all quietly. So I wouldn’t wake him. And I’d done it on purpose.
Then I left a note… just to rub his nose in it.
“I’m an asshole.” That was what I’d decided after the first hour and the first eight dozen biscuits. By the twelfth dozen, I had to resist the urge to run back to my place and apologize—then I laughed, because there was no way Jackson was still there. He’d probably bolted once he realized he’d been spared an awkward morning after.
Whatever. I made two hundred and forty biscuits, and now I had to run a special if I wanted to sell them all.
“You sure you want to do BOGO biscuits?” Maven walked into the kitchen with her hands on her hips and a pinched look on her face.
“Well, I made more than we usually sell, so, yeah. Why not?”
Her shift in confidence was evident in the way her arms wrapped around her body and Maven’s gaze shifted to the floor. “Well, I was thinking we could sell them. In bundles. Four- and six-packs, to have with dinner. So people who don’t normally eat out regularly might come in when they hear about the extra biscuits.”
It was a good idea, and proof that a certain detective was taking up way too much space in my brain. “Perfect. Run with it.”
“Thanks, but are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“Because you look, I don’t know… strange. Confused and glowing and… oh my god!” Her eyes rounded as big as saucers. “You got laid,” she whispered, more excited than I was about the whole thing.
“Keep quiet!” The last thing I needed was the whole damn world to know my business.
“Oh, please, we’re the only ones here right now,” she said at the same moment the kitchen door swung up and Rafe appeared with a wide grin on his face.
“Morning. Oh, good morning,” he said, flashing a mischievous smile as he came closer and circled me. Twice. “You look different.”
“It’s because I didn’t blow dry my hair,” I told him quickly. Easily. It felt easy, but I glared up at him just in case.
“Why not? Were you running late this morning?”
Damn him. “Nope. An idea struck me in the shower and I was too excited to get here to worry about it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.” I folded my arms and notched my chin up defiantly, daring him to call me out.
“I’d love to taste this rush of inspiration.”
“I hate you.”
Rafe and Maven both burst out laughing, and no amount of glaring would get them to stop. So, I ignored them and went back to my root beer syrup—batch number eight thousand and infinity. At least, that was how it felt.
“You don’t hate me, but you did get laid. Why is that making you mad, I wonder?” And just like that, he went from the charming, playful Rafe to the fire chief, man in charge, protective best friend Rafe. “Give us a minute, Maven.”
Her eyes went wide and without a word, she spun on her heels and left us alone.
“That was unnecessary.”
“Maybe. Why do you seem upset about the sex glow you’ve got going on? Do I need to kick Jackson’s ass?”
I gasped and glanced up at him before glancing away. “Who said anything about Jackson?”
“Really, Reese?” He folded his arms and leaned on the table, right in my personal space so I couldn’t ignore him. “I won’t be hurt that you didn’t share this news with me if you don’t pretend that something’s not going on between you two.”
“Ugh, I hate when you get all reasonable on me.”
His serious expression vanished and a slow smile crossed his face. “I know.”
“I made chili last night. Want some?”
“Sex chili? Sure.”
I rolled my eyes and warmed some from the pot I’d brought in for the kitchen staff. “It’s not sex chili, it’s beef.”
Rafe snorted a laugh and dug in as soon as I handed him the bowl. He was good for my ego, shoveling the food down and giving me the biggest puppy dog eyes to get another bowl. “It’s good sex chili.”
“It was chili nachos, not sex chili, Rafe.” But I did have a question, and there was no man in town better positioned to answer. “Have you ever left while a woman was sleeping?”