Sugarlips (Beefcakes Book 2) Katana Collins (win 10 ebook reader TXT) 📖

rest of us. You’re not Tasmanian Chloe. You’re not chaos. You’re smart and free-spirited and you take risks when the rest of us play it safe. You’re kind and loving and fierce. I’m not best friends with messy people. And I definitely don’t fall in love with them.”

A tear slid down the bridge of her nose and before she could object, I captured her lips with an urgent and fevered press of my mouth to hers. A growl vibrated beneath my ribs and sent a buzz through me that landed at my cock. “Liam,” she whispered as I released her mouth.

I pressed my finger to her lips to hush her. “I know, I know. You need time.”

She shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I need anymore.”

My heart skipped. Another brick from the wall had broken. Slowly, I was chipping away at her shields and for the first time since the hospital, I felt a kick of hope in my heart.

“Right now? All we need to do is prep the truck.” I released her and offered my hand. She hesitantly took it and we resumed walking.

Baby steps.

28 Chloe

It took me several minutes to realize that the knocking at my front door was not, in fact, me killing it in a drum solo within my dream—where I was a rock star on stage with thousands of adoring fans.

My eyes blinked open, still bleary, and I reached for my phone. 7:53 a.m.

What the fuck. It was my one morning off for the week. The one morning where I could get a full eight hours, or more, of glorious, uninterrupted sleep.

Grumpy, I pushed off the bed and stomped down the stairs.

I swung the door open without looking out the peephole—and immediately, my anger dissipated. Liam stood on my front stoop… and he was covered in buttercream.

“Uh…” I had no words and instead I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “What’s going on?”

Liam, however, was decidedly not laughing. If this had been a cartoon, his face would have been an inhuman shade of scarlet and steam would have been coming out his ears. “They kicked me out!” A bit of the buttercream melted under the heat of the morning sun, sliding down the curve of his neck onto his shoulder, saturating his white t-shirt. “They kicked me out of my own fucking bakery.” He didn’t wait for me to invite him inside. Clomping down the hall, a bit of frosting slid off his earlobe and landed with a splat on the floor of my foyer.

“What are you talking abou—” Oh. Right. This was Liam’s first full day off—and Jeremy, the new manager, was doing all of the baking with Finn at Beefcakes today. For the first day ever. I should have known that Liam wouldn’t have been able to relax, but couldn’t help asking, “What were you doing over there on your morning off?”

He yanked a few paper towel squares off from the rack in my kitchen and started wiping down his neck. I watched, hungrily. Frosting… and sugar… on Liam. There were just way too many delicious things about the sight in front of me. Focus, Chloe.

“I thought three sets of hands would be better than two.”

I snorted. “Ever heard the expression ‘too many cooks in the kitchen?’ It exists for a reason.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “But I’m the cook! It’s my kitchen.”

I sighed and crossed the kitchen to start the coffee. “So, what’d you do to end up looking like a dessert yourself?” I asked as I filled the coffee pot with water.

“What’d I do? Nothing! I was simply showing him that the frosting does best when it sits on the top shelf in the fridge rather than the bottom. And as I was reaching for it, he knocked me over and the whole damn bowl poured over my head.”

“Uh-huh.” I was pretty sure there was a lot more to that story. “So, Jeremy kicked you out of your own kitchen?”

“No. And he prefers Remy, by the way.” he grumbled. “Finny kicked me out.”

I chuckled. “Did you call him Finny? You know he hates that.”

“I call him Finny when he’s acting like a bratty kid.”

I arched my brow, sneaking a quick glance at Liam. “Then what should I call you right now?”

“I am not being petulant!”

I’d never seen Liam like this…and I kind of loved it. Most days, he was so damn unflappable. It was kind of nice to know he wasn’t impervious to stress and meltdowns like the rest of us. I grabbed the nutmeg, sprinkling some on top of the grounds before hitting the start button.

There was a soft laugh from beside me—the first of the morning—and I slid a glance toward him to catch the moment.

Liam leaned against my sink, arms folded, his cocky smirk aimed directly at me like a torpedo, ready to take me down. And it did. “Told you you’d grow to like nutmeg in your coffee.”

I swiveled to face him, planting a hand on my hip. “You sound pretty cocky for a guy covered in buttercream.”

“Buttercream or not… you’re using nutmeg in your coffee.”

“I’m using nutmeg in my coffee because there’s a ranting, frosting-slathered lunatic here and that’s how he takes it.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. I’d been brewing my coffee with nutmeg for at least a week now… if for no other reason than it makes my house smell like Liam. And yes, I was starting to like the taste. But hell if I was going to admit that to him. Not now, not ever.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Go use my shower and change. I have some of Dan’s old t-shirts up there and I’ll cook us some breakfast. I’ll even do that thing… with the eggs inside the toast for you.”

“Birds in a nest!” he said, eyes wide. “How did you know those were my favorite growing up?”

“You have a picture of you on your birthday as a