Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
And it was even worse when he walked into a room.
Like now.
“Practice was good. It was a tough workout, but the juniors are coming along and I didn’t feel like I was going to puke afterward. In fact, if it hadn’t been so stormy, I’d planned on jogging over here.”
“That is not a storm. It’s little baby snowflakes and wind,” I taunted.
Riley snorted. “You just said my lips were cold. I could test them on your dick.”
“I accept your challenge, but we’re at a crucial moment with the dough. We have to knead the dough, proof it, knead it again, and bake it. You leave the dough for too long, you get bad bread.”
“I thought all bread was good.”
“Meh, not quite. If it’s over-proofed, your bread will look funny. It will collapse or go lopsided and the flavors may be off. That won’t be a problem for us. I don’t make bad bread.”
“I believe you. I’ve never attempted to make bread. Out of my wheelhouse.”
“I don’t know what that means, but today is your lucky day. Come, Riley. You can take over while I stare at your ass.”
He barked a laugh and shook his head as if to protest. “Actually, you know what? Put me in, Coach. Show me how to knead your dough.”
Riley hopped off the counter and sidled behind me, squeezing my ass as he tilted his hips suggestively. An electric current zinged through me at the contact and just like that, my cock swelled in my sweats. A rogue vision of Riley inside me took me by surprise. I hadn’t been on the receiving end in years—not my thing. But I might be persuaded…for him.
Crisse, where had that come from?
I refocused, tossing a spare apron his way without making eye contact, waiting till he’d washed his hands to fire off instructions.
“Flour first.” I dusted his hands liberally with flour and pointed at the heel of his palm. “Dig into it. Don’t be shy. Good. Now fold the dough in half toward you and push it away. Turn the dough and repeat.”
He listened intently, making adjustments as advised. “So…this is it? Doesn’t seem so hard.”
“It’s not. Baking is a science. As long as you follow the rules, you’ll get the results you want.”
Riley shook his wrist and stole a glance my way. “You don’t strike me as the type who likes to follow rules.”
“Not true. Religion was a big part of my life when I was a child. Church on Sundays and high holidays, Catholic school. I always did well with structure and discipline. Hockey gave me that too. The practicing, the camaraderie…the game is always bigger than one player, but your contribution matters. It’s like that in a kitchen too. Everyone has a role to play, and we’re better at it when we work as a team. Rules are good, but…” I pulled the dough from him and grinned. “It’s fun to break them.”
He snickered, diligently pushing and folding the dough. “Uh-huh. Now, me? I was a quintessential rule follower. Even after I left home, I made my own rules about…everything in my life. Food restrictions, daily exercise, sleep, alcohol…I even had a no masturbation rule twenty-four hours before a game.”
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “Is this some kind of testosterone bullshit?”
He blushed, and it was so fucking cute I couldn’t resist looping my arm around his waist, nuzzling his neck, and pressing kisses behind his ear.
“Cut it out.” He wriggled in my arms, then leaned against me. “To be honest, I got carried away with the rules. I have a mild obsessive-compulsive streak, and I’m hard on myself. I was like this as a kid too—always trying to be the best and do the best. It’s fucking exhausting.”
“I bet. I can’t relate. I was terrible.” I sighed. “My poor parents. I was the kid who fell asleep in church, ditched school to smoke with my hooligan friends, and the D-man who showed much promise, but spent far too much time in the penalty box for using my fists instead of my brains. It’s not that I didn’t want to follow rules, but some of them seemed pointless to me.”
“Yeah, that sounds more like you.”
“Oui. I had too much energy or not enough. I never got the balance right until I worked in a kitchen and found out the hard way that everything I touched would turn to shit if I didn’t pay attention. So I learned to be patient and put in the work. And because of that, I don’t have to cross my fingers or double-check my recipes. I know this bread will be amazing…unless you fucked it up somehow.”
Riley swatted my ass with a dish towel. “I made it better. Admit it.”
“We shall see. Let’s put it in the oven.”
We washed up, idly commenting about everything from the holiday wreaths on Main Street to the juniors’ passing prowess and their chances of winning their upcoming game against their archrivals, the Pinecrest Penguins, to the weather outside.