by Siera London
She should have changed back into her jeans before he returned home. Wait. Why was she considering changing for him? No way would she make that mistake again. Hadn’t she and her mother performed for the men’s parade…the hair, the makeup, and the dresses. Nausea rolled at the image of her in a dress. She hadn’t worn one since that day.
“Hey,” you okay?”
Owen stood in front her now, concern having banked the fire in his eyes. But, his body heat, stoked her from the top of her head down to her pinky toes. Wow, he confused her. Cold one second, raging inferno the next.
“Of course,” she said, shaking off the effect of his smoothing tone. Ivy realized she had to appear to bend to get what she needed in life. However, she would not transform herself for him. Not for anyone. She was her only meal ticket. She could only depend on herself. Owen Tate and this job was a means to an end. Focus, Ivy.
“There’s a dress code?”
His eye flashed with irritation. Hey, why let him hold her to a standard he failed to establish?
“You know there isn’t.”
“So, what’s the problem, boss?”
He growled. “Problem. The problem, sweetheart is your tight little body is going to cause a riot.”
She gave him a smirk. Though, the fact that he found her body appealing meant she was sexy, right?
“Has it happened in the past?”
Faster than she could process it, he had her in his arms, his hard body pressed into her softening curves.
“Ivy,” he growled. The hunger in the way he said her name had her knees buckling. If he didn’t have her anchored to him, she would have surely melted onto the floor. He pressed his lips to her forehead. His breathing was choppy, and seemed as if she could hear the pounding of his heartbeat in her head. “Go upstairs and change.”
Her breath came in rapid exhalations and an ache started to build low and deep inside. What was happening to her? She couldn’t let him gain the upper hand. A man like Owen Tate took charge. Ivy knew the wrong man could easily ensnare an unsuspecting woman. And, regardless of how gentle and caring Owen Tate was with his son, he was the wrong kind of man for her.
“No,” she said in a breathy reply.
He pulled her in closer, his warm breath caressing the curve of her ear. Liking the feel of him, she angled her head wanting him closer. Then she felt him. Not just his generous muscles, but the hard length of him. She gasped.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
He dropped his head to her neck, inhaling. “Go change, Ivy. If one them touches you…,” he trailed off. “Trust these words, sweetheart. I will riot.”
He would what? She jerked back.
“But—,” How could this be? He didn’t know her and now he wanted to pull this barbarian routine?
A heavy hand landed on her backside. The sting traveled liked a firehouse’s alarm straight to her center. Heat blossomed at the heart of her.
“Ouch,” she yelped.
He chuckled. “There’s more where that came from.” Squeezing her waist, he said, “Get upstairs, sweetheart. Come back with your arms, legs, and middle covered.”
She narrowed her eyes, ready to protest.
“Test me, Ivy. My palm can use the workout.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You wouldn’t?”
Desire crept into his gaze and her insides quivered. Owen Tate would paddle her backside and enjoy it. Scary truth, Ivy believed she might like it.
* * *
Ivy Summers was the worst kind of temptation. How the heck was Owen going to keep his hands off of her? Maybe, he should tell her the job was over. He could load her and that rat pack in the truck. It would take less than two hours to drop her off in Sacramento with a bus ticket.
He stormed out of the kitchen with three breakfast plates. Fenley, Kent, and Nolan stared down at the usual he fed them every morning. Owen frowned when the three men kept their eyes peeled to the closed kitchen door.
“What?” Owen snapped.
“Where’s Ivy?” Kent asked.
Kent was the youngest of Fenley’s boys. If memory served, Kent would be old enough for a beer this year. Either way, he was too young for asking after Ivy.
“Why?” Owen snarled.
Fenley spoke first. “‘Cause looking at her will make this burnt crap you cooked taste better.”
Owen pulled three mugs, filling each with dark roasted brew. He slammed each cup in front of a plate.
“Never complained about my cooking before.”
Fenley rubbed a hand behind his neck. “That’s before we saw what Luke and Hank got.”
Hank stood and patted his belly. “Yep, Ivy took good care of us. Seems to me the early bird gets the cute waitress.”
Nolan stood and leaned over the counter. “Hey, what’s taking Ivy so long, anyway?”
“She’s fine,” Owen roared.
Understatement of the decade. Did they think he’d murdered the woman? He’d be more likely to kiss her senseless before dragging her into his bed for the next five days. Why did she keep talking about leaving? Ivy Summers gave breathtaking a new definition. Warm peach cobbler with real vanilla bean ice cream, that’s what she reminded Owen of. Warm, sweet, and sinfully delicious.
“Ah hmmm,” Fenley said, stroking his chin, “then why come she’s not out here?”
“Yeah,” Kent joined in. “Send Delaney back, too.”
“She’s not here today.” Owen grimaced, remembering he’d have to address the Delaney issue.
“Oh, I saw-,”
With a fierce scowl, he silenced the young peanut gallery.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Owen smirked at Fenley. “Don’t like my company?”
The crusty old viticulturist chuckled. “Never have. You’re kid’s cute, though.”
Willis Vineyard was one of the largest grape plantations in the county. As a fifth generation vintner, he was well-respected in the region.
Ivy came bouncing through the door. She’d lost the mini-skirt for a pair of jeans so tight, his baby makers hurt. The long sleeve shirt, had rips that started under her breasts and continued to her abdomen. He didn’t know how it was possible, but the woman looked even sexier with the added material.
“Hot grease in the skillet,” someone muttered.
Hank took a swallow of his juice. “Luke, let’s drive the twenty miles back for lunch.”
Ivy gave them a welcoming smile. “I’ll be here fellas. We’re having baked chicken and oven-roasted sweet potatoes for lunch.”
Owen listened in amazement. His lunch menu consisted of cold sandwiches, hot dogs, hamburgers and fries.
Hank and Luke finished up their breakfast. Owen could see fifteen dollars between the two empty plates. He charged five dollars for a hot breakfast plate. The guys had left too much money. He took two steps and picked up the extra five.
“Put us down for two plates, Ivy,” Hank winked. “And the five is for you, doll face.”
Owen watched as Ivy lit up like Hank had given her the keys to a brand new Tesla.
“You guys are the best,” she beamed. “See you at noon.”
What in the green hell? Owen frowned. She was working over his customers. His sweet little doll face was a first-class hustler.
The bell over the door clamored, as the two men exited. When he heard one of them say Ivy’s name in an appreciative tone, his gut clenched.
Distracted by his own anger, he damn near saw red when Ivy patted Fenley’s hand and the smiling idiot handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change, Ivy.” He glared at Owen. “The boys and I want you to serve us for lunch.”
Not one of his regular customers left tips for breakfast. It was the reason he only asked Delaney to cover the morning crowd.
Ivy made quick work of removing the dishes and wiping down the counter.
“The people around here are friendly.”
The comment, aimed into the atmosphere more than him only, twerked his annoyance
higher.
“Ivy.”
She walked over to him, eyes unflinching.
“Yes, Owen?”
Her voice was soft and seductive. Dang. An image of her screaming his name as he got lost inside her, cut through his mind. What was he angry about again? Honest to goodness, the woman with her untamed scent and sienna smooth skin scrambled his brain. He swallowed. She angled her head watching him. That ponytail moving with her.
“Lunch crowd starts before noon,” he said pushing past her. He needed to put some distance between them before he did something really dumb, like take her to his bed.
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
That’s what he was afraid of.
Chapter 4
Ivy stirred the bubbling brown sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon in a skillet. The churning in her belly stopped the minute Owen left to pick up Cai from school. Owen had stuck too close after the last of the breakfast crowd dissipated. He’d unloaded crates and boxes until sweat drenched his torso. Truth be told, Ivy had singed her fingers more than once, when he removed his shirt. She’d looked, taken a mental picture, and then smiled to herself. That bad boy would be on rewind for the rest of the day. Ivy thanked the cosmos when Owen said he had to leave.
Surprisingly, surveying the storage shelves she found everything she needed to make lunch. Owen was well-organized. He had a computerized inventory system, all the shelves in the stock room were labeled. Ivy had worked at a variety of jobs during her travels from Florida to California. Hands down, Owen Tate had a business mind and the bar was well run.
The tension between them had to stop. Nothing good would come of a liaison. In fact, the closer he hovered the more she knew she needed to leave, sooner rather than later. She planned to tell him tonight. If Delaney returned in the morning, Ivy would take her pay and vamoose. Ivy never doubted that she’d find a way to take care of herself, but a man with a child needed a woman that could help him. With her barely-graduated high school education and sporadic job history, Ivy had nothing to offer a ready-made family. Though she had no doubt that sharing Owen’s bed would be like fireworks at Disney World, but sleeping with him would be a mistake. Owen Tate was not the leaving kind…she was.
The back door opened. Cai came running inside. Messy blonde hair, mouth ringed in chocolate milk, and little grubby hands filled with papers.
“Ivy,” he sang, arms outstretched he ran straight for her.
“Smells good in here,” Owen said.
That had been her goal. Her mother had taught her that a man’s brain started in his nose. Get your scents right Ivy and you’ll have him eating out of your hand. Ivy remembered those hands covered in blood. The ambulance. The gurney. The low hum of a flatline.
Stopping at the stove, she turned the handles in, before dropping low. Cai threw both arms around her neck and hugged her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his innocence, and squeezed him back.
“Hey, baby boy,” she smiled, releasing him.
“I missed you,” he smiled up at her and Ivy’s heart overflowed with happiness.
What should she say? She looked up to find Owen watching them. Her boss hung back by the door, his long frame leaning in the opening.
“Well, I thought about you, too.”
His eyes stretched in disbelief, but she could see her statement made him happy.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” she said nodding her head. “Check out the table. I made those just for you.”
Quick, he wiggled the Ironman backpack off his tiny shoulders and ran to the table. Ivy wondered if her mother’s advice applied to little boys.
At the center of the table he spied the sweet potato muffins piled high on a platter. Cai began to jump up and down. Owen moved closer.
“Daddy, daddy. Ivy made me cupcakes.”
An expression appeared on Owen’s face. Before she could discern the meaning, it disappeared.
“Did she now?”
“Go on, Cai. You can eat one,” Ivy encouraged. Like a good boy, he looked to his father.
“We’ll both will try one,” Owen said.
Long legs narrowed the distance between them. Scooping Cai up into his arms, Owen picked up one of the still-warm muffins. He offered Cai the first bite, and then the brute tossed the rest of the muffin in his mouth.
“Whoa,” he said, his eyes stretched wide in shock. “These are crazy delicious.”
She laughed, heart light with joy. It was nice to see him smile. Ivy had the suspicion it didn’t happen often. “Glad you like them,” she announced with a flourish and a bow.
Cai laughed, causing a little orange fluff to join the chocolate stains around his mouth.
“I’m driving you to Cherron’s in the morning. These babies need to be on the menu.”
“Yummy,” Cai said, mouth still full. “Can I have my own cupcake, daddy?”
“Who’s Cherron?”
A lot of names were tossed around this morning. There was Ma Hildie’s Grocers and Trina’s Treasures if she needed clothes. A woman named Amelie worked in the museum Ivy spotted on the walk into Endurance. Ivy remembered the sign said something about a library being inside the museum, too.
“Cherron is the town baker. She’s owns the Cupcakery.”
If he thought her muffins could hold a candle to anything a professional baker made, he really meant the compliment was sincere. Compliments were few in Ivy’s acquaintances.
“I can walk you know.”
Owen’s face darkened for a second. His expression closed. “I don’t want you walking,” he rasped. “I’ll take you in the truck.”
Something is his expression had Ivy nodding her agreement.
To Cai he said, “Just one more, buddy.”
Ivy smiled at the sullen frown that Cai aimed at his father. Owen didn’t budge, not that she expected him to.
Owen gave him that love father’s reserved just for their offspring. “There’s dinner in a little bit.”
She, of course, was a noodle for the kid. She would have let him eat the whole platter and ruined him for dinner. Again, her silly heart did a little flip in her chest. Owen Tate’s love for his son was evident. Loving parents set limits and provided direction. Her mother stopped giving her any advice after the fifth shelter stay. Ivy had to rely on her own wits. And, they screamed it was time to go. She didn’t need any attachments. Owen Tate and his son stuck like peanut butter on toast.
“Yes, daddy.”
Grabbing his muffin Cai asked if he could eat in front of the television. Owen nodded in agreement.
“Thank you for my cupcakes, Ivy. They’re…they are good.”
“You’re very welcome, baby. I’m glad you like them,” she said smoothing his hair down.
Once again she and Owen were alone. That tingle started beneath her skin.
“Any trouble while I was gone?”
Ivy raised a brow at that. “If you mean Kenny bursting into the bar with fresh fish dangling from a line, or Herchel Page popping his fake eye out mouth, then no.” She giggled, thinking how kind and helpful the men of Endurance were. They were pushy and determined, but not like Poe. Poe scared her.
“No, Ernie?” Owen quizzed.
Ivy smiled big. “Oh,” she laughed. “The minute I saw his big smile and all those ropes on his hip, I told him the bar was closed.”
Owen grinned. “Yep. I’ve told him a hundred times to save the ropes until after the first date.”
Eye wide, Ivy looked up at Owen. “You made a funny.”
Owen just looked at her, not surprised by her teasing. All to soon, the air surrounding them filled with a familiar heat. Ivy bit her lip. The way Owen watched her, kept her in place.
“You didn’t have to do that, with the muffins.” Owen circled her before coming to stand in front of her.
Ivy ran a nervous hand over her lip. “It was no problem.”
Reaching for her hand, Owen captured her trembling fingers in his. “Didn’t say it was a problem.”
/> She licked her lip. What did he want her to say? As if he’d heard the thought.
He asked, “Why did you do it?”
She shrugged. “I was already cooking, so,” she let her words trailed off.
“So,” he said rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “You surprised my son.”
Why had she thought to do something for Cai? Why couldn’t Owen just drop it? She baked. It was no big deal. If she had her own kitchen she’d cook all the time. It relaxed her.
“I kind of owe him.”
A slow smile covered Owen’s full lips. “You owe, Cai? How?”
“I…” she heard the nervous shudder to the one syllable word. “I, ah…turned off the light in the bathroom last night. Could have been a mess for the little guy.”
Owen chuckled, and stepped closer. “I gave you a job.”
She swallowed. “And?”
He lowered his head. His lips were so close to hers, they shared the same breath. “Do you want to give me something, too?”
Well now, why hadn’t she thought of that? Because, during his absence she’d been trying to convince herself to go upstairs, roll up her clothes, and get the heck out of Endurance before Owen got back.
“Owen,” she breathed. Tell him, Ivy. “When Delaney comes back tomorrow. I’ll be moving on.”
Owen’s sharp inhale shocked her. His hand tightened on hers. Something in his blue eyes slammed shut, but not before she saw the pain. Had she hurt him?
“Daddy.”
At the sound of small feet padding in the kitchen, Ivy jumped. Everything was happening too fast. Why would her leaving upset Owen? Forgetting, the hot stove was at her back, she stumbled backwards. Oh God, how bad would she burn herself. All of a sudden, a steel band circled her waist, stopping her momentum faster than a solid wall. Owen’s arm was around her, hard, strong, safe. She exhaled in relief.
“Yes, son.”
“Can I invite Ivy to my birthday party on Saturday?”
Owen looked down, locking eyes with hers.
“Yes, you can.”
His voiced was filled with something far more dangerous than a five-year old’s party. Ivy couldn’t look away, couldn’t break the spell he had her under.