Page 24 of Erotic Temptations 1
One second I was making a kamikaze move toward the wall, and the next Gabe’s hand shot out and landed on my sleeve, catching my arm. I stopped just before the part where I split my nose open on the door frame.
My dignity shriveled on the spot.
“Whoa,” he said.
My brain hadn’t gotten the memo to update its social software for awkward moments yet, so I blurted out, “Sorry. Momentum issue. Basic physics.”
More like basic Cameron.
His mouth almost curved, and for a second, it looked like he would let go, but then his thumb pressed gently into the fabric of my hoodie. “You okay?”
I managed a sound that didn’t really count as a word, more of a strangled “mm-hmm,” and then he let go. My arm could still feel the ghost of his grip, which was unfair. I’d barely known the guy an hour, and my thoughts were already running the crush playbook. Embarrassing.
“Yeah. I’m usually more coordinated than an inflatable tube man. Usually.”
“Ready for the ten-cent tour?”
Ten cents was about all I had to my name. I nodded, tried not to trip over my own shoes, and followed.
He led the way down a service corridor lined with buckets, flower arrangements, and bags of rock salt that seemed to mock my earlier parking-lot debacle.
Gabe’s stride made it look easy, and I tried to match his pace, pretending I was someone who walked with purpose. But that flew out the window when I nearly tripped over a wet-floor sign. I nearly faceplanted but caught myself with a weird, penguin-waddle hop.
I was clumsier than usual. Gabe’s presence was the culprit.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his mouth twitch. “Watch your step.”
“I’m field-testing gravity,” I muttered.
The laughter was silent, but his eyes squinted just a little at the corners. It felt oddly satisfying to make him smile. “Basic physics.”
He led me past a staff break room. There were two people inside, both engrossed in their phones. A half-eaten box of donuts sat on the table, just out of reach. My stomach did a wistful little flip. Maybe later.
We reached the kitchen. Even through the doors you could smell roasted coffee, vanilla, and something rich and spicy that made my stomach remember it hadn’t been fed since Taco Bell in a gas station five hours ago.
Gabe hesitated, hand on the push-bar of the door. “It’ll be busy,” he said.
A part of me froze. Had he figured me out in less than an hour? Which made me wonder if he was already mentally flipping through job applicants for my replacement.
“So long as nobody throws a fruitcake, I’ll be fine,” I said as my gaze slid toward the door. Were we talking a couple people baking some pies or full-on invasion of chaos? I just didn’t do well with a beehive of movement around me. A busy aisle in a grocery store made me breathe faster. There was just somethingabout too many moving parts that caused my brain to search for the nearest exit.
And if it couldn’t find one, my brain just “noped” out.
He surprised me with a genuine smile. Pretty straight, white teeth appeared, somehow making him appear even more handsome. “You’d be surprised.”
I prayed he was joking.
He pushed open the door, letting me go first. I had about as much confidence as a marshmallow at a bonfire, but I squared my shoulders and powered through.
Then wanted to immediately retreat.
The kitchen sprawled out in front of me, bigger than any I’d seen outside a Food Network binge. Stainless steel was everywhere, miles of gleaming surfaces, and banks of LED track lights. I couldn’t keep up with all the motion. People were zipping in every direction, food equipment on full blast, pots boiling, pans sizzling. Orders were being barked from more than one person.
My mind screamed for everyone to stop moving or at least slow down to a crawl. There was too much to process all at once.
Gabe watched me closely, like he was trying to figure out why I froze at the sight of whipped cream being piped onto a thousand cookies.
I tried to relax, tried to make my feet move, but I couldn’t get my brain to listen.