Kiss by Kiss (Riggins Brothers 3)

“Finally,” Aspen says dramatically as the final customer walks out the door. “I didn’t think I was ever going to get you alone. What was that this morning?” She stands with her hands on her hips. I can see the defiance in her hazel eyes, ones much like my own. We both have our mother’s eyes—something Dad always said was a blessing. I’m not getting out of this.

“That was word getting out about the bakery. Word of mouth is the best form of marketing.” It’s not a lie. Most of today’s customers were a result of someone telling them about us. However, I know that’s not what she’s asking. I’m deflecting, and we both know it.

“That’s great, and you know I’m thrilled for you, thrilled for us, but let’s get back to the matter at hand. Grant.” She gives me a pointed look.

“What about him?”

“He’s into you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“No, but he’s about to.” She nods over my shoulder, and I close my eyes. From the look on her face, I already know what I’m going to see when I turn around.

“Aurora.” His deep sexy voice greets my ears.

After pulling in a slow, deep breath, I exhale before turning around. Grant has his dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his tie no longer present, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, giving me a chance to rake my eyes over his tattoos. He’s all bad boy mixed with the air of a responsible professional. He’s lethal, and I can’t let myself fall.

Not again.

“Grant.” I finally find my words.

“You ready for lunch?” He holds up a bag from the deli down the street and my mouth waters. I open my mouth to tell him I have too much to do, but he beats me to it. “You have to eat. Both of you have to eat.” He flashes Aspen a grin. “I have lunch for the three of us.”

My stance relaxes, knowing he bought lunch for Aspen too. I’m sure he’s just trying to get closer to her through me. That’s what they all do. “Okay,” I concede.

“Actually, I have some calls I have to make,” Aspen chimes in.

“At least take your lunch with you.” Grant sets the bag on the counter and pulls out what appears to be a wrap and a bag of kettle chips.

“Thank you. Our fave.” She smiles big, grabs her lunch, and disappears into the kitchen.

Traitor!

“Shall we?” Grant asks.

“Um, I need to lock the door.” I step out around the counter, and his hand on my arm stops me.

“I’ve got it, go sit. You’ve been on your feet all day.” With a gentle squeeze and a look that makes my knees weak, he releases me and makes his way to the front of the bakery to lock the door and flip the sign to Closed.

My arm is warm from his touch, which I don’t understand. That’s never happened before. I don’t move a muscle as I watch him. He has an air of confidence that only a man like him can have. A man who knows who he is and what he wants, and right now, his attention is focused on me, but I don’t know why. He places the takeout bag at a small corner table before walking toward me.

“Come here, baby,” he says, holding his hand out for me.

Baby. A swarm of butterflies take flight in my belly. I’ve never had a man use a term of endearment with me, and this one, he seems to have plenty in his arsenal. On autopilot, I place my hand in his, and sparks ignite, coursing through my veins. From the look on his face, the way his mouth drops open and quickly closes, he feels it too. I allow him to lead me to the small table and pull my chair out for me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I’m busy and don’t have time for this, but I know it’s going to fall on deaf ears. “Thank you,” I say instead.

He gifts me with a boyish grin. His blue eyes have a light in them that tells me he’s enjoying his time… with me. I want to ask him why. I want to tell him that he’s putting his efforts into the wrong sister, but I don’t. Instead, I stay quiet and wait for him to place our food in front of us.

“How was your day?” he asks, pulling open the wrapper around his meatball sub and taking a huge bite.

“Busy.”

“That’s good, right?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Most of the customers today were here from word of mouth. That’s a good thing,” I say. The excitement that my dream is finally coming true, and it’s profitable, is palpable in my reply.

“How long have you been open?”

“Less than a month.”