Page 23 of Wreck Me
“My brother can be that way too.”
“Noah’s the oldest. Always been so serious.” Charley pulled her legs up into her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Of course, we aren’t very close. I was an oops baby. Noah and I are twelve years apart. But Aidan?” She crossed her fingers. “We’re tight. He’s always looked after me. Especially after our dad died.”
There was a twist in Megan’s heart. “Aidan told me about that. I’m sorry.”
Charley shrugged. “I was pretty young when my dad died. I don’t remember a lot. But I do miss the idea of him.”
Megan looked down at the can in her hand. She thought back to the loss of her own parents and when she and Nate became orphans. They’d been lucky to have family take them in, and their childhood had been pretty decent given their circumstances.
Which reminded her that she needed to call him again before he started to worry. And he would. He’d also send more money to pay for her car. Hell, he’d buy her a brand-new car if she’d let him. And there was no way. She needed to make some money somehow.
“I hate to keep imposing, but do you know somewhere I can work temporarily while I’m here? I need to make some money if I can. Not to mention, I’ll go crazy if I don’t have anything to do all day.”
Charley’s face lit up. “The Silver Moon Cafe—where I work—we need some help. Can you wait tables?”
Megan chuckled. If she only knew. “Waiting tables has kept me from starving many a times. That and bartending.”
“Perfect!” Charley exclaimed with a clap of her hands. She tilted her head. “We actually need a bartender. We’re short one now. Marcus is going to be ecstatic. When can you start?”
“Um, Doc said I need another day of rest. So, maybe this weekend?”
“We could really use you by then.”
“Then I should be ready.”
“Cool. I’ll talk to Marcus, see when he wants you to stop by to talk to him.”
“Sounds good.”
A few minutes later, after exchanging numbers and promises to get in touch, Megan leaned her back against the front door. With a smile, she let the little bit of hope that bloomed in her chest spread through her limbs. The accident was a little setback, but she was hoping to turn her luck around while she was stuck in Madison Ridge. She couldn’t ask for a better job here since that’s exactly what she’d be doing in Cape Sands when she got there. She could brush up on her skills here with the temp job and go kill it once she got to Florida.
She went back into the kitchen and put the mushrooms away, looking at the other things he had in his pantry. He had all the items she needed to make one of her favorite recipes. She pulled out her phone to double-check the ingredients and got to work.
A couple of hours later,Megan wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and looked down at her cherry pie masterpiece. She was incredibly pleased with how the latticework had come out on the top, so golden brown. She’d even managed to make the lines straight. The filling wasn’t homemade but since Aidan had a can of cherry pie filling in his cupboard—it was interesting the things he had in his cupboard and fridge for a guy—she hoped he liked it.
She set the pie on a rack in the middle of the long bar and turned to the mess on the island with a sigh. Bowls and utensils and flour were everywhere. This was the part she hated about baking.
The front door opened and closed as she started to gather the dishes and put them in the sink. When he turned into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks as he took in the disarray, his brows raised in question.
God, he was gorgeous. His broad shoulders were covered by a black long-sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off muscular forearms and a large silver watch wrapped around a thick, muscular wrist. She didn’t need to see his chest and abs to know that the man worked out and his abs probably had abs.
Dark wash jeans covered his long, strong legs and brushed the tops of his black boots. She’d stolen a couple of glances earlier in the day and knew that the jeans hugged a fine ass. He wore his signature black baseball cap backwards so that his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones were prominently displayed. Bright blue eyes bounced around the kitchen before looking at her intently.
Her fingers itched for a camera in her hands. He’d make an amazing black and white portrait.
The man was built like a brick shithouse. Her thighs clenched trying to relieve the pressure that landed between her legs. Man, it had been a long, long time since she’d felt the weight of a man on her body. But she didn’t want just any man, she wanted the one standing in front of her looking at his wrecked kitchen.
The man that was off-limits.
“Megan?”
The deep timbre of his voice brought her out of her dirty daydream. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said it looks like a flour bomb went off in here.”
“I know, and I’m cleaning it up. I swear.” She ran the dishtowel through her hands. “I hope you don’t mind. I did some baking. As a thank you.”
He narrowed those dangerous-to-her-heart blue eyes. “You didn’t overdo it, did you? You should probably still be resting.”
