He had broad shoulders, the shoulders of someone who did real work, and his hand, resting on the back of the chair, looked rough and calloused in a way that set my pulse pounding.
I wondered what his hands would feel like on my naked body, then felt my face heat as I slipped into the chair.
“Do you like mac and cheese?” Beck asked, turning off the heat on the stove.
He pulled on an oven mitt and poured some kind of cheesy sauce into a waiting casserole dish already filled with macaroni pasta. A salad was already prepared in a large bowl next to the stove.
“Who doesn’t?”
He laughed and the rumble of it went all the way to my toes. “Good answer. I’m more comfortable around a bundt pan than a casserole dish, but this should do for dinner.” He looked over at the black-haired man, leaning against the counter. “You going to be a gentleman and introduce yourself?”
And speaking of pulse-pounding, the guy’s biceps bulged under the short sleeves of his T-shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, and I caught sight of the bold gray and black lines of his tattoos: bricks and columns, foundational elements I’d never seen inked onto someone’s body.
He was like a diamond, hard and bright, his steel gray eyes as sharp as a blade, his jaw defined enough to cut glass. A heavy watch glinted on his wrist — an actual watch — and I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d known a man with a watch.
“Who said I was a gentleman?”
Beck sighed. “That’s Dane. He manages the finances and stuff, takes care of repairs around the house. If you need something done or want to know more about the house, he’s your man.”
I nodded but didn’t bother saying anything, because honestly? The guy was giving off big-dick energy, both the good and bad kind.
Beck sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the casserole dish and then put it in the oven.
“That’ll only take a few minutes,” he said, returning to the island. “Want some milk and cookies while you wait?”
“Milk and… cookies?” As far as I knew, my ears were working fine, but since I’d never been offered milk and cookies by an inked baker with panty-melting brown eyes, it didn’t hurt to make sure.
“It’s been a rough day.” He turned to pull a glass down from one of the cupboards. “You probably need some milk and cookies.”
He opened the fridge and poured milk into the glass, then plucked two cookies off a baking sheet cooling on the stove. He set them on a plate and pushed them toward me. “Enjoy.”
“Um… thanks.” This was weird.
Really weird.
Like a cross between an episode ofLaw & OrderandGilmore Girls.
Except I was the only girl.
He watched me closely as I bit into the cookie. Nutty oatmeal hit my tongue, along with butter, brown sugar, and slightly bitter dark chocolate. I closed my eyes with a sigh and inhaled deeply for the first time since I’d found the dead body in the gazebo.
“Wow… that’s amazing.”
Beck beamed. “See? Milk and cookies.”
I nodded, fighting a smile. “Milk and cookies.”
I met Noah’s gaze, locked on my mouth, and lifted my eyebrows in question.
“You’ve got a little…” Before I knew what was happening, he touched his finger to my bottom lip, then held it up. “Chocolate.”
He put the finger in his mouth to lick off the chocolate, but instead of being freaked like any normal person, my nipples got hard.
Jiminy cricket, I needed to unpack my vibrator stat. I was clearly too horny for my own good.
“We got your bags out of your car and took them upstairs,” Noah said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine, thank you.” I took another bite of cookie.