Iris reached for the volume knob on the center console, and I arched a brow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m turning the stereo on,” she said, as if I were dense.
“You don’t touch the stereo when someone else is driving.”
Her laugh informed me just how intimidated she was by my rules. A song from two decades ago came on, and Iris grinned. “I love this song.”
“You’ve got some nerve, putting that on in my car,” I grumbled, but I didn’t change the music. I liked seeing that smile on Iris’s face.
“Have you any idea how uptight you are? It’s staggering, actually.”
“Hiring you was a mistake,” I said darkly.
Her laugh was bright as a midsummer’s day. “Probably, yeah.”
We drove a while longer, and some of the tension in my shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t even known I was tense. But having her here beside me, bobbing her head to the music, filling my favorite car with her sweet perfume, made everything just a little bit better.
Besides, she was my companion, wasn’t she? Coming along with me wherever I chose was the entirety of her job description. Even if I’d originally conceived the plus-one duties around galas and networking events, and not impromptu trips to my favorite bakery.
When we turned down a darkened alley, Iris shifted in her seat. I navigated around a dumpster and pulled to a stop outside a nondescript steel door, painted rust-red.
“Uh, Jared…?”
“Scared, princess?” I gave her a wolf’s smile.
She rolled her eyes, glancing over when the red door swung open. A gigantic man blotted out the light that spilled through the opening, his massive shoulders silhouetted by the buttery yellow glow beyond. He kicked something with his foot to keep the door propped open, then shifted into the light so I caught sight of his scowl.
He trundled up the two steps that brought him to street level and walked around to my side of the car. In his hands, he clasped a white bakery box.
I rolled down the window. “Evening, Sal.”
“Next time you want something, give me more than twenty minutes’ notice, all right?” He thrust the box through the window, barely giving me enough time to grab it before he let go and walked back to the bakery door.
“Cheerful sort of guy,” Iris noted.
I laughed, handing her the box. “Hold these,” I said as I rolled up my window. When she had the box in her lap, I drove out of the alleyway and onto the street. I pulled into the first open spot where I could park on the street and flicked the overhead lights on.
Iris’s face was aglow with a mischievous grin. “This is unexpected, Branson. I haven’t seen this side of you.”
“What side is that?”
“The side that has a hook-up for emergency cookies, and that pulls onto the side of the road to eat them.”
“Open the box, Little.”
She laughed, and the noise made my own lips twitch. Turning the box toward me, she presented me with its contents. Sal had come through with a dozen warm, gooey, perfectly baked cookies the size of side plates. I took one and then nodded for Iris to do the same. She set the box down on her lap and studied the selection, choosing a cookie near the edge of the pile with lots of chocolate studded through it.
Holding it in her hands, with her shiny red nail polish providing a strong contrast to the brown-and-beige cookie, she inspected the treat like the fate of the world depended on her verdict. One dark brow arched, and Iris shifted her gaze to me. “Not bad,” she conceded.
“Be quiet and eat the cookie, Little.”
“You are unspeakably rude,” she replied, then took a huge bite. When her eyes rolled back and a noise of pure pleasure came from her throat, a grin stole over my lips. She chewed slowly, another of those delightful sounds escaping her closed lips, and I felt a twitch below my belt.
Tearing my gaze away from Iris’s chocolate-chip cookie-induced ecstasy, I took a bite of my own. Delicious. I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out of me, and Iris grunted in agreement.
We ate in silence, savoring the deliciousness as Manhattan life buzzed just outside the car. Traffic flew past, cars honked, and people hurried along the sidewalk. I saw none of it. All that existed was buttery, crispy-chewy perfection, chocolate, and Iris.
“Wow,” she finally said, popping a finger in her mouth to lick the tip. That nearly made me groan again, but I pulled some napkins out of the center console instead. She thanked me as I offered her one, and we cleaned up the evidence of our gluttony.
“I gotta hand it to you, Branson,” Iris finally said when our cleanup was done. “That was one amazing cookie.”
I grinned. “Glad you’ve come to the correct conclusion,” I said. “I was worried I’d have to fire you when you pulled those crimes against cookies out of your purse.”
When I looked up to catch Iris’s gaze, I noticed a little spot of chocolate on the corner of her lip. Before I could stop myself, my hand rose, and I caught the smudge with my thumb. Iris’s eyes widened, but she didn’t pull back. If anything, she leaned into me, mouth dropping slightly open as her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip.
It caught the edge of my thumb, and I found myself leaning into her, gaze caught by her perfectly formed mouth. I needed to taste it. Needed to feel it against mine. Needed to know if kissing her would make this ache inside me go away.
I was hard as rock behind the placket of my pants. I wished we were in my apartment instead of in this tiny car. Wished I had her propped up on my dining room table so I could smear chocolate over her skin to lick it off. Wished I could take my time kissing her until I knew I’d had enough.
Iris’s breath coasted across my wrist, her lashes fluttering as she tilted her head?-
A honk right outside my door made us both jump. My hand dropped from her face, and Iris backed away like she’d been burned. The box of cookies slid from her legs, and she scrambled to catch them before they landed on the floor.
“I-uh-” She gulped. “I don’t know?-“
“I should take you home,” I said, putting the car in gear and keeping my eyes pointed firmly forward.
“Just drop me off at the subway,” she said, and we both knew I’d ignore that particular request. By the time I pulled up outside her apartment, the temperature in the car had cooled.
When Iris handed the box to me, I shook my head. “Keep them,” I said.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.