***
"Oh my God," Lark screeches as her single scoop of ice cream hits the floor. "You scared me to death, Mr. Moore."
Mr. Moore.
I need that to end now. It's a turn-on in the office. There's a part of me that enjoys it. I admit I sometimes imagine her on her knees taking my cock down her throat and then thanking me for my release in that sweet voice of hers while she adds a sultry, 'Mr. Moore' to the end of it as she licks her lips.
Jesus. My mom is ten feet away from us and I'm thinking about blowing my load down Lark's throat.
"I need you to start calling me Ryker." I reach for a napkin from the table she's sitting at and use it to scoop up the ice cream. "Please call me Ryker, Lark."
She nods. "I can do that. You did scare me. You can't creep up behind people like that."
"Do you want another scoop?" I ask as I toss the ice cream in a waste container a few feet away. "I'll get you whatever you want. There's a new bucket of a mint white chocolate chip in the back. You can be the first to try it out."
"How do you know that?" She surveys the almost empty store. Business isn't as brisk in the dead of winter as it is in the summer months, but a few new menu additions my grandmother concocted have helped. Rich hot chocolate and handmade baked goods have kept our regulars coming back regardless of how much snow is on the ground or how low the temperature dips. "Do you know the owner?"
"My grandparents own this place." I lower myself into a wooden chair across the table from her.
"Your grandparents are Fred and Nellie Albertson?" She rocks back in her chair. "You're not serious?"
"That's my mom behind the counter." I fist my hand in the air, my thumb pointing at the counter behind me. "Her parents founded this place."
"Wow." She bites her bottom lip. "What a small world. They were always telling me that I was perfect for their grandson. Do you have a brother?"
I huff out a laugh. I'm their one and only grandson. "No, Lark. They were talking about me."
Chapter 12
Lark
"I need to ask you something, Ryker." I stand behind him as he locks the door of Cremza. I waited at the table while he closed the shop with his mom. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, moving seamlessly next to one another as they put everything away.
Once they were finished, Ryker introduced me as a co-worker and friend to his mom. She smiled, and her eyes danced as if she was about to burst. Before she could say anything, he kissed her goodbye and hailed her a taxi headed for his grandparents' apartment.
"Are you going to ask me why I smell like cilantro?" He slides the key fob into his jacket pocket.
"You do smell a little like cilantro." I move closer and breathe in his scent. "I just thought you had something delicious to eat for dinner."
"I'll explain the cilantro smell once you ask the question."
I nod, my gaze shifting to the sidewalk next to us. I should ask him back to my place so we can talk in private, but he hasn't mentioned the possibility of us hanging out tonight. I need to gauge his interest before I throw myself at him.
"What's the question, Lark?" He reaches forward to button up my wool coat. "It's getting windy. You should bundle up."
I don't brush his hands away. I like that he's chivalrous. I can tell that he was raised as a gentleman. I've seen it in the office when he's moved back to allow women to step onto the elevator first and when he's held open doors for the female and even the male employees. He has good manners which my mom has always told me is a sure sign of a good heart.
"Why did you keep those pictures of me on your phone?"
His hands stop mid-button. His jaw tightens as he looks into my eyes. "Do you like me, Lark?"
"You're not answering my question."
"Answer mine." His gaze drops to my mouth. "Do you like me?"
"You're a pretty good boss," I half-tease, trying to break the palpa
ble tension between us. "I'd rate you a six on a scale of one-to-ten of good bosses. Ten being the best and one being the worst."