Page 25 of Unexpected Entanglement

Rowan’s brain was at least still functioning. She pushed off Chris as if he was a hot iron she needed to avoid at all costs.

“Easy,” Chris warned as he lifted his hands off her. She rolled off him and folded herself to sit on her knees.

Staring at Chris, who stayed flat on the floor, Rowan asked, “Mr. Sullens, are you okay?”

“After what happened, don’t you think we should drop the formality?” Chris asked as he readjusted his shorts discreetly. He worked himself up to a sitting position. “I’ll be fine in time. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said shortly and quickly stood and picked up something off the floor.

It was the hat that was always on her head. She hadn’t taken it off even at dinner last night, which Chris found bizarre and rude, but it wasn’t his house.

“Where did you come from?” he asked and got to his feet. “And why is this hallway so dark?”

“The better question is, what are you doing in this hallway?” she asked, her usual annoyed tone returning. She flicked something by the wall, and a lamp on a console table near them turned on.

Chris blinked at the sudden light. Rowan stood before him in a white V-neck T-shirt, green khaki shorts, and Converse sneakers. She eyed him with her hands at her waist, her mouth twisted, and her hat back on her head.

Where the hell did all that hair go?

“This hallway isn’t open to guests. It leads to the back office, the kitchen, the pantry, supply rooms, and access to the basement, where we have our washers and dryers. I didn’t see you coming from the service stairs because I didn’t expect you to come down that way,” she finished, looking at him with an accusatory glare.

“I was exploring,” Chris defended himself.

“You always go exploring at six-thirty in the morning?” She turned around and started walking down the hallway.

Chris followed her at a slower pace, as walking was still uncomfortable. “I was awake. Might as well start the day. I didn’t get to look around the house beside the lobby and kitchen.”

“You’ll get your chance later this morning.” She turned to the right and walked past the supply room, a walk-in refrigerator and freezer, and the pantry before the hall opened to the kitchen.

Rowan turned on the counter lights but kept the overhead light off. The morning sunshine bathing the room through the windows was enough. She then ground some coffee beans and brewed a pot of coffee.

“Hey, can we talk about last night?” Chris asked and sat on one of the steel bar stools.

Aaah, cold steel. Perfect.

The kitchen was a hybrid of a commercial and country home kitchen, with two commercial ranges, large ovens, and stainless steel surfaces. But there was also a huge prep island with many slots underneath it for storage and spacious areas in between so workers could quickly move around. An L-bar wrapped around half of the core kitchen to create more prep area, or it could function as a regular kitchen bar when it wasn't meal service time.

“You were quite upset when you left last night,” Chris prompted.

When Rowan turned to him, the displeasure he’d seen last night was back in her eyes. There wasalso stubbornness in how she cocked her chin, ready to defend her father’s honor again as she’d done the night before.

Chris could understand Rowan’s loyalty. He, too, would stand with his father, though he would never declare him father of the year. He’d once looked up to George Sullens. He remembered how proud he’d been to shadow his father at work as a nine-year-old boy. Chris had wanted to be just like him. Because then, he’d been a good father to Chris—before everything changed.

Knowing he needed to smooth things over, he said, “Rowan, I’d like to apologize.”

Rowan didn’t expect an apology from Chris Sullens, especially after her behavior last night, then the accident just now. Could she act more embarrassingly? How could she ever be a suitable host if someone like him easily ruffled her? An inn proprietor should be gracious, even in the most unfortunate situation, and she hadn’t exhibited a bit of grace.

To be fair, what woman wouldn’t be flustered when she found herself sprawled on top of a man’s large, firmly muscled body first thing in the morning? Their thin T-shirts and shorts concealed little when she pressed against him, chest to groin.

When Chris had put his hand on her thighs, resulting in her toppling on top of him, she’d felt a burst of excitement. Her nipples had instantly puckered up, and she’d felt the urge to lean herself harder into him. She’d inhaled deep the lemony soap fragrance she knew well mixed in with his male essence, and wanted to burrow her nose even deeper into his neck.

Have I been without a proper man’s touch so long that I got a thrill from an accidental tumble with a man?

She should be the one apologizing for her abrupt exit last night and for causing this morning’s accident, of which he’d taken the brunt. But here he was, extending an olive branch to her.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot about this whole situation,” Chris continued, oblivious to where Rowan’s mind had gone. “Rae is my best friend’s wife and a dear friend to me. This situation is—as I’m sure you’re experiencing as well—difficultfor her to process. And I get a tad protective of her because of that.”

Obviously, their earlier clumsy dance didn’t affect Chris much, Rowan noted. She forced herself to stop thinking about how delicious it felt to have his hard body rubbing against hers and focus on the current conversation.

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