Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(24)

“Shit,” she said, bending low to hold her toe. “You scared me!”

I cringed and stepped closer, bending low to see the damage.

“Don’t touch it!” she demanded, jerking her foot away from me. She wouldn’t let me get close, holding her arm out to stop me and brushing flour onto me in the process.

I laughed and shook my head. “It’s fine. If it were broken you wouldn’t be standing right now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well it landed right on the nail!”

I was sure it hurt like hell, but she’d be okay.

I turned and my kitchen—or what used to be my kitchen—pushed back to the front of my thoughts. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside my house. “Care to tell me why you’re in my house without my permission?”

She puffed out a breath and stood up, propping her hands on her hips as if she was the one in charge. Funny.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, waving to the baking supplies behind her.

I wiped my finger across the counter and came away with flour.

“Yeah, I’ve somehow deduced the what, but I’d like to know the why.”

She turned to me, leaning her hip against the counter. “The guesthouse doesn’t have an oven, and a girl can’t live on dry chicken and broccoli alone.”

“So you decided to let yourself into my house and use my oven?”

She held up one hand to stifle my anger and reached forward with the other to break off a piece of banana bread.

“Here’s your why,” she said, holding the morsel out to me. I watched the steam curl off the top as I pulled it out of her hand and slipped it into my mouth.

I resisted an audible groan. Fuck. “It’s all right,” I lied as I chewed the delicious bread.

She frowned. “Yeah right. I would be willing to bet my life this is the best banana bread you’ve ever had.”

I arched a brow as she got back to work stirring ingredients in a mixing bowl. It looked like by the end of her baking session, we’d have enough bread to host a community-wide bake sale.

“Let me try some more,” I said, pointing to the banana bread.

She smiled. “Only if I’m allowed to keep using your oven.”

I stared between her and the bread. On one hand, I really liked my privacy. That’s why I’d put the team in the guesthouse in the first place. On the other hand, I really f*cking loved banana bread. I shrugged and reached behind me for a plate in the cupboard. “Whatever. Just make sure to clean up after.”

She grinned and turned to the refrigerator to grab a carton of milk. “Want some?”

When she turned back to hand me the carton, I noticed two things at once. First, Brie wasn’t wearing a bra. I hadn’t noticed at first because her tank top was loose and Brie was petite, but then she shifted and I caught the outline of her breast beneath the loose material. Suddenly, I was fully aware of the fact that Brie was a beautiful woman, standing bra-less in my kitchen. Instead of dwelling on that fact, I had to force myself to focus on the second thing that caught my attention: she had a little tattoo running horizontally across her ribcage. I caught the edge of it and leaned forward to capture her arm to hold it up so I could see it clearer.

“What’s that? Ink?” I asked.

She glanced down to where I was looking. Thin black letters barely peeked out of the armhole of her tank top.

She smirked. “Yeah. It’s a tattoo.”

She was mocking me.

“I can see that. Aren’t you a little young for a tattoo?”

She narrowed her eyes, annoyed. “I’m twenty.”

“What does it say?” I asked, ignoring her glare.

She reached down to move the loose material aside and I struggled to resist the urge to skim my knuckle across her skin. It looked so soft there, creamy white, not nearly as tan as her arms and legs. The scrolling tattoo started an inch away from the bottom of her breast and stretched horizontally toward her back. It was so subtle and small, I would have missed it had I not been so close.

“Unbreakable,” I read.

She nodded.

“Does it have a meaning or did you just like the movie?”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s a reminder to myself.”

“Huh, I like it,” I said, dropping her arm so I could pour myself a glass of milk and try to compartmentalize Brie in my mind. In the gym, it was easy. There was a buffer between us. There were other people around us, other people to focus on and coach. There in my kitchen, as I took a seat across the island and watched her bake, I had to keep reminding myself she was there to use my oven, nothing more.

She stuck her finger in to taste the batter in the mixing bowl and smiled. I found myself smiling with her before realizing what I was doing. I wiped my mouth and took another bite of banana bread.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Blueberry muffins.”

My brows arched with interest.

She glanced up and the morning light caught her eyes, brightening the dark brown to an alluring golden hue. She smiled. “Don’t worry. You can eat these too.”

She finished stirring the batter and bent down to root through the cupboard beside the stove, most likely looking for a muffin pan. I was about to tell her to stop looking—I didn’t have one—when she leaned forward and I caught a glimpse down the front of her tank top. I could see the full curve of her perky breasts, the same creamy skin I’d wanted to touch a moment before. She shifted lower and I nearly caught sight of her nipples. Another inch forward and f*ck.