“I’m fine.”
“You do realize you’re saying, ‘I’m fine’ a lot, which indicates that you’re totally not fine. Besides, it’s not like you to cut your finger on the job.”
“Precisely,” he agreed. To stop this conversation that was going nowhere, he leaned forward, watching her lips part in a blatant invitation for him to claim her. “The only problem right now is my pride is being crucified. Let’s move along, please.”
“Your pride is just fine. Things like this happen to anyone.” She leaned in more, inspecting the wound on his finger. Blood continued to seep down his hand onto the napkins.
Chase did not want to get into how exhausted he felt. There was a heaviness down to his damn bones. But he supposed that was expected, considering his company, Blackshaw Construction, was at the end of a three-month job that his two brothers had entrusted to him. They were turning their late father’s cattle ranch into a guest ranch, where guests could come run the cattle alongside the Blackshaw Cattle cowboys. Chase had been working around the clock to get the job done.
“I don’t think you should feel too bad or embarrassed about having an accident anyway,” she said, seemingly reading his mind. “All you’ve been doing lately is working. That’s not good for anyone. It’s a surprise an accident didn’t happen sooner.”
Warmth flooded him, and he gave her the soft smile she deserved. It felt good to have someone on his side. Especially this someone. From day one when she came home, he had noticed the sexual chemistry raging between them. It had been instant and explosive. But over the last two months while he had been her taste tester, and he spent more time alone with her, he’d noticed a closeness growing between them. One that was calm and steady and healthy in ways he’d never known a relationship to be.
“You might want to inhale deep and hold your breath,” she said, scrunching her nose. “I suspect this is going to suck.”
And suck it did.
He gritted his teeth, refusing to flinch in her presence while she squeezed the wound together even tighter. Careful but with focus, she applied the wound closure strips to the laceration until she sealed the wound tight.
“I’m sorry,” she said tightly. “But isn’t that so much better now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He rose, feeling slightly light-headed.
When he turned to get back to his meal, her fingers snagged his wrist. “I’m not done with you.”
The silkiness in her voice brought his attention back to her. The heated look in her eyes returned him to his seat, his muscles quivering. He stared at her hand on his arm. For the nine months since she’d been home from Denver, he’d been managing his desire for her privately and efficiently. Even through the months when things intensified between them—and they’d had many of these intense moments—she had never touched him. Not a single time. The power of her touch now took his breath away, bringing fierce and potent heat into his groin.
He met her gaze, discovering her firm eye contact, her chest rising and falling quickly with her heavy breaths. He fought against his desire to erase all the distance between his mouth and hers. Christ, he wanted to take her right here, right now, until they were both sweaty and satisfied.
Obviously attempting to stay on task, she visibly swallowed, her hand trembling when she took the sterilized wipe from the first aid kit then cleaned all the blood off around the wound, her fingers trailing over his. This time, the pain didn’t even register. He became entirely aware of her. Her fruity aroma filled his senses with the flare of his nostrils. The world around him faded away as she became the only important thing in the room.
The slight curve of her cheekbone. The way her mouth was parted. Her tongue flicking out, wetting her lips, preparing them for when he pressed his mouth against hers. The long, sexy line of her neck, the pulse hammering at her flesh. The soft lines of her shoulders to the roundness of her breasts.
Jesus Christ.
“Chase,” she rasped.
He slowly looked into her heated eyes, the softness there begging him to make his move. She froze, motionless from her need, possibly reacting to the hunger engulfing him. Only then did he realize he had closed his hand over hers, now holding her fingers in his. Pulled by something he could not control, his body leaned toward hers, and hers moved closer to his.
“Chase.”
He inhaled sharply and glanced sideways at Brody, his best friend since kindergarten. His wild, dark hazel eyes were locked onto Chase’s hand wrapped around Harper’s, a vein protruding from the center of his forehead.
Slowly, dangerously, Brody’s narrowed eyes lifted, and he growled, “Get your hands off my sister.”
Chapter 2
Chest-beating alpha men were annoying sometimes. Actually, scratch that, the chest-beating alpha men in Harper’s life were annoying most of the time. Especially the man standing in the doorway, looking about ready to chomp Chase’s head off.
Brody McKinney, her older brother by four years, shared the same eye color, albeit a lighter shade than Harper’s. His blond hair was a dirtier blond while hers had more of a honey tone. His legs were far longer, making her five-foot-five height seem short in comparison. And Brody, with his fierce scowl and hard eyes, could be imposing and often intimidated her boyfriends at the best of times, which was usually why she ended her relationships.
Harper wanted a man that stood up to Brody, not a boy who ran away.
Truth be told, her longest relationship happened when she attended culinary school. Only problem: after dating
Matt a year Harper knew he wasn’t the one. Not even close to being the one. But of course, that had not mattered to Brody. He liked Matt because he hailed from New York City and planned to move back there once he finished school. Brody’s hang-up had always been about her dating someone in River Rock. There, she could never be the famous chef he thought she should be.
And for the most part, she agreed with him. Staying in River Rock had never been the dream.