Page 73

Story: Delicious

“Never steered me wrong.” I grin. “Seriously, me and him are tight, but we don’t need to be in each other’s pockets twenty-four seven.”

“I doubt anything can fit into those pockets of yours.” His gaze drops to my shorts, cut so high that the white linen of the pocket lining sticks out below the hem.

“You’d be surprised.” I wink. “But no, Ty and I aren’t joined at the hip or anything, just, where one goes, the other tends to follow. Plus, he’s a Brit, born and raised, so I always knew he’d come back to England someday. I’ve travelled all over since I was a kid and have never been particularly tied to any one place. I’m just as happy in the UK as I am back in the States.”

“Uh-huh,” he muses as he continues to stare at me thoughtfully.

“Just think on it, ’kay?” I pick up the pastry and the cappuccino I’ve just made and ease around the counter. Still balancing the bagged pastry on the cup, I reach for the door, then turn back to Colin at the last minute. “I’m just going to run these over the street for Dot, although I’m beginning to think her name should be Pot with the fumes coming off her.”

Colin chuckles. “Don’t breathe too deeply and don’t eat any of her brownies.”

Laughing, I open the door and start to move through it, only to collide with a big, firm body. The coffee explodes and I lose my balance, windmilling my arms comically as I fall back, hitting the floor with a thud.

“Ow, ow, ow,” a deep voice chants, and my eyes lock on a six-foot wall of spank bank material.

He’s tall and blonde, with tanned skin and blue eyes, and is now holding his drenched T-shirt away from his body, no doubt in an attempt to keep the hot coffee-soaked material from burning him.

For a second, I don’t say anything, just lay there dazed and gazing up at this gorgeous, sun-drenched god.

“Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin…”I mutter.

“Are you okay?” he asks in concern as those blue eyes fall on my prone form.

“I, uh-huh.”

Leaning down, he takes my hand to help me up, but before I can say anything, Colin bustles over with a dishcloth and a roll of paper towels.

“Oh, Quinn, are you okay? Please don’t sue.”

He rolls his eyes. “Colin, why on earth would I sue you?” he asks in exasperation. “It’s just a bit of coffee, I’m fine.” He takes the offered dishcloth but instead of wiping himself down, he gently lifts my hands and wipes the coffee from them. “Are you okay? Did you get burned?”

“No, I’m should. I mean…” I close my eyes and shake my head. “Good. I’mgood. I should clean up this mess.” I gaze down at the pool of liquid at our feet, then back up at him. What did Colin call him? Quinn? “Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t mean to nail you with a cappuccino the minute you walked through the door.”

“I have to admit, I was hoping to drink it, not wear it.” He grins, then adds, “I’m fine though. Accidents happen.”

“I’ll make you anything you want, on me, after I get this cleaned up.” I promise, my cheeks heating as I take the roll of paper towels and unravel a load of them to soak up the mess on the floor.

“Here, let me help you.” He hunkers down next to me, and I’m treated to the sight of his worn jeans pulling tight on his delectably thick thighs.

“Ay, bendito…”I murmur under my breath.

Shaking my head, I concentrate on mopping up the spill and after a few moments, my hands are filled with a stack of soggy paper towels.

“I’ll just get rid of these.” I head towards the nearest trash can but as I dump them inside, I hear the bell on the shop door ring and turn to see two familiar men walk in hand in hand.

“Nat, Beck,” Colin greets them. “You’re early.”

“Sorry, that’s my fault.” The gorgeous dark-haired chef from Sully’s smiles. “Mel wants me in earlier to help with the inventory checks because Simon called in sick. Is it okay to do this now?”

“Sure.” Colin nods.

Beck looks over and does a double take. “Quinn? What are you doing back?” He strides across the bakery in two steps and wraps his arms around my hot, muscly wet dream in a tight hug.

“Finished up early. I got in last night,” Quinn mumbles into his shoulder. “I was going to grab a coffee and a croissant before doing the rounds and saying hi to everyone.”

Beck slaps him on the back affectionately. “Whoa, you’ve put some timber on. You’re solid as a rock. What were they feeding you at Uni? You were supposed to come back skinny with a borderline alcohol problem and possible scurvy from a constant diet of pot noodles and beer.”

“I’ve still got a reputation to maintain as the best-looking brother.” Quinn grins. “Besides, you’re soon to be an old married man. I hate to break it to you, but you’re first in line for a beer belly.”

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