door cautiously and poked her head out. She couldn’t hear anyone. Eddie was next in and he had a key, and she didn’t expect Savannah for another half hour, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Hello?” she called.
No answer. She relaxed as she opened and closed the door several times to get some fresh air into her office. He grinned, watching her.
“You have to go,” she said. “I have work to do.”
“I could help.”
“Are you good in the kitchen?”
“Not really. I’m more of a—”
“Microwaver. I remember now. Then it’ll be better if you don’t. No offense.”
He shrugged. “But I’m good in the bedroom, right?” He gave her a sideways glance that had her rolling her eyes as she put her shoes back on. “Well? You came twice, didn’t you?”
She tied the laces and stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Yes. I came twice, but I have to tell you, if you’re going to...” She trailed off and shook her head with a frown. “Never mind.”
He followed her to the kitchen where, after washing her hands, she started gathering ingredients for the Alfredo Chicken Noodle Soup. “No, finish your sentence. If I’m going to what?”
She nudged the fridge door closed with her hip, her arms full of onions, celery and two bagged whole raw chickens. “I was going to say, if you’re going to be all about keeping track of my orgasms every time we have sex, then we need to have a serious talk.” She sighed. “But then I remembered, this—you and me—isn’t going anywhere after you go back to San Diego, so it’s a moot point.”
She went to a stainless-steel counter and let go of all the stuff. The onions thumped and rolled around, littering the clean space with their papery skins. What she’d said sounded harsh, but the best defense was offense, or was that the other way around? Better to cut her losses now before she got too attached to him. She had her career and restaurant to manage and that was always her first priority.
When she turned around and saw Calder looking like she’d just slapped his face with the chicken, she felt bad. “Look,” she began, but he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“No, it’s okay.” He nodded. “It’s fine. I get it. I actually agree with you. Like we said the other night, it’s better if both of us are on the same page. That way no one gets hurt. No unrealistic expectations means no huge disappointments.”
“Right.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get to work then.”
“Okay,” she said, still feeling like shit.
He turned to go, then paused in the doorway. His shoulders looked taut and she thought he might say something else, but he didn’t. She heard him turn the lock and go out. She’d have to go lock it after him, but the last thing she wanted now was to watch him walk away.
It should have been a relief that he understood where she was coming from, but it wasn’t. It felt more like a breakup. Which was ridiculous. They’d essentially just met three days ago. They’d had some fun in the sack and now he was gone. She had a job to do and so did he, in goddamn California. She didn’t have time for a relationship anyway. Not if she was going to go forward with the espresso drinks. She’d been perfectly happy before running into Calder Griffin four days ago. Perfectly. Happy.
Then why did she feel like crying?
Chapter Thirteen
Calder walked back to the yarn shop in a bit of a daze. She’d given him the brush-off, and although she’d done it cleanly, it stung. Not five minutes after he’d withdrawn from her body, she hustled him out of her restaurant.
He’d gone too far with the teasing. He got that. Not being an asshole, he cared about whether his partner came or not, but he knew some guys obsessed over that and became like overeager puppies during sex. Did you come yet? Did you come yet? He never wanted to be that guy , but in an attempt to be funny, he
“Hello?” she called.
No answer. She relaxed as she opened and closed the door several times to get some fresh air into her office. He grinned, watching her.
“You have to go,” she said. “I have work to do.”
“I could help.”
“Are you good in the kitchen?”
“Not really. I’m more of a—”
“Microwaver. I remember now. Then it’ll be better if you don’t. No offense.”
He shrugged. “But I’m good in the bedroom, right?” He gave her a sideways glance that had her rolling her eyes as she put her shoes back on. “Well? You came twice, didn’t you?”
She tied the laces and stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Yes. I came twice, but I have to tell you, if you’re going to...” She trailed off and shook her head with a frown. “Never mind.”
He followed her to the kitchen where, after washing her hands, she started gathering ingredients for the Alfredo Chicken Noodle Soup. “No, finish your sentence. If I’m going to what?”
She nudged the fridge door closed with her hip, her arms full of onions, celery and two bagged whole raw chickens. “I was going to say, if you’re going to be all about keeping track of my orgasms every time we have sex, then we need to have a serious talk.” She sighed. “But then I remembered, this—you and me—isn’t going anywhere after you go back to San Diego, so it’s a moot point.”
She went to a stainless-steel counter and let go of all the stuff. The onions thumped and rolled around, littering the clean space with their papery skins. What she’d said sounded harsh, but the best defense was offense, or was that the other way around? Better to cut her losses now before she got too attached to him. She had her career and restaurant to manage and that was always her first priority.
When she turned around and saw Calder looking like she’d just slapped his face with the chicken, she felt bad. “Look,” she began, but he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“No, it’s okay.” He nodded. “It’s fine. I get it. I actually agree with you. Like we said the other night, it’s better if both of us are on the same page. That way no one gets hurt. No unrealistic expectations means no huge disappointments.”
“Right.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you get to work then.”
“Okay,” she said, still feeling like shit.
He turned to go, then paused in the doorway. His shoulders looked taut and she thought he might say something else, but he didn’t. She heard him turn the lock and go out. She’d have to go lock it after him, but the last thing she wanted now was to watch him walk away.
It should have been a relief that he understood where she was coming from, but it wasn’t. It felt more like a breakup. Which was ridiculous. They’d essentially just met three days ago. They’d had some fun in the sack and now he was gone. She had a job to do and so did he, in goddamn California. She didn’t have time for a relationship anyway. Not if she was going to go forward with the espresso drinks. She’d been perfectly happy before running into Calder Griffin four days ago. Perfectly. Happy.
Then why did she feel like crying?
Chapter Thirteen
Calder walked back to the yarn shop in a bit of a daze. She’d given him the brush-off, and although she’d done it cleanly, it stung. Not five minutes after he’d withdrawn from her body, she hustled him out of her restaurant.
He’d gone too far with the teasing. He got that. Not being an asshole, he cared about whether his partner came or not, but he knew some guys obsessed over that and became like overeager puppies during sex. Did you come yet? Did you come yet? He never wanted to be that guy , but in an attempt to be funny, he
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