Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
While Riley fretted over his future in the NHL, I mulled over a culinary career move. It didn’t matter how old you were, how much experience you had, or the many accolades you’d collected over the years. Time moved faster than ever nowadays. Bigger names came out of the blue and became overnight sensations. You had to keep up or risk being a has-been as you hit middle age.
So yes…this was where my mind wandered. Riley, career moves, and…touching Riley’s dick.
“You tuned me out, didn’t you?” Nolan flicked the piece of paper in my hands.
I shot a wide-eyed innocent look his way and nodded. “Yes. But you were repeating yourself and I got bored. Désolé.”
“You’re not sorry,” he huffed.
“No, I’ve told you my thoughts. The option that puts more money in your bank account is better. It’s business, Nol.” And here was my opening. I pushed my notes aside and said, “Speaking of business—” just as Dierdre rushed into the kitchen.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Riley Thoreau is in the dining room asking for you,” she reported eagerly.
“Me?” Nolan and I asked in unison.
“JC. Something about a container…maybe? My brain went fuzzy when he started talking. Gah, he’s so handsome.” Dierdre fanned herself theatrically. “He just ordered a cup of coffee at the counter. No breakfast.”
Nolan stood with a chuckle. “I can handle him for you. I’m heading to my office to catch up on paperwork and—”
“It’s okay. I will see him. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Dierdre saluted me and hurried back to her station, leaving me with a curious Nolan.
He nudged my elbow when we were alone again. “What were you going to say?”
“I forgot,” I lied. “I’m sure it will come to me.”
He didn’t seem to believe me, but he let it go. “Okay. See you later.”
I nodded and waited a few minutes, knowing Nolan would most likely stop to greet Riley before he went to his office. I couldn’t peek around the corner without being spotted, but I lucked out.
Riley sat by himself at the far end of the counter, tracing the rim of his cup and staring into space.
“No sunglasses today?” I commented. It seemed safer than complimenting his lovely eyes. Dierdre was right. He was so handsome.
Riley smiled. “I have them ready, just in case, but no headache so far.”
“I’m glad. Where’s the container?”
“Uh…I didn’t bring it. That was a ruse to talk to you about…” He darted his gaze to his left and right. “…you know.”
“Yes, well, it’s not a great time or place to talk about…you know,” I replied playfully.
“Yeah. I was hoping to catch you on a break. I should have texted, but—”
“It’s fine. I have time now. And if you have time, I can teach you how to make your own tuna fish salad. Come this way.”
“Wait. What?” He threw some money on the counter, nearly falling off his stool in his haste to follow me into the kitchen.
I ushered him toward my workspace and out of the way of the morning cook and his crew.
“Wash your hands,” I instructed, pointing at the sink. I grabbed a few ingredients from the industrial-sized refrigerator, set them on my island, and tossed a clean apron at him before washing my own hands.
“Am I allowed to be here?” Riley whispered.
“I am king here, so…yes. I allow it. Now, let’s discuss tuna fish.”
He wrinkled his nose in a way I could only describe as cute. “It’s barely ten a.m. and I already ate some of this stuff. It hits different when you’re supposed to be eating Cheerios, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s no good?”
“Not great,” he admitted with a laugh. “But that’s probably because I was craving an omelet or a stack of pancakes or—hey, should you be helping them?”
I glanced over at the melee on the other side of the kitchen where Jason, a young fry cook was griping about burned bacon.
“No. I’m king, remember? I’m invisible right now. I don’t work the morning shift other than to supervise an occasional special. They are a talented group. They know how to make eggs and bacon without me looking over their shoulders.”
“King Jean-Claude,” he snarked.
“You catch on quickly. Now…tuna is terrible in the morning. I tried to warn you.”
“And I appreciate that, but…” Riley lowered his voice as he stepped next to me behind the island, the apron bunched in his fist. “That isn’t why I’m here.”
“Riley, tuna salad is the only reason we have,” I said solemnly. “Last night shouldn’t have happened. If I’ve caused you confusion, I’m sorry. I don’t want to add to it by giving you—what are the things you say when you want to say something nice and supportive, but it sounds like a greeting card?”
“Platitudes?”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. I want to be honest, and I’m honestly apologetic that I did…what I did.”