“No, this is cozy.” I grin up at him. His green eyes deepen as his gaze drops to my lips. I know he’s thinking about kissing me.

I’ve thought of little else since the last time he did it last night.

The man is an extraordinary kisser.

But before his lips can descend on mine, the waitress appears. “Everything okay here?”

“Yes,” Keegan says without looking at her. Instead of kissing me, here in front of the whole town, he turns and digs into his oatmeal.

“What are your plans for today?” I ask him as I take another bite.

“After we finish breakfast, I have to go to the pub for a delivery. I’ll be unpacking bottles until it’s time to open for the day.”

“Do you want help?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m not asking to clock in, I’m asking if you’d like me to come give you a hand so we can hang out together and be productive at the same time.”

“If you come help, you’ll clock in.”

I roll my eyes and shrug a shoulder. “Fine. But if you’d rather not, that’s okay, too. I’m not forcing myself on you.”

He laughs and pushes away his empty bowl. “Let’s try this again.”

“Okay, do you want some help today?”

“Sure, that would definitely be better than doing it alone.”

“See, that wasn’t hard.”

“Whoa.” We’re in the storeroom, staring at a mountain of boxes. “This is some delivery.”

“Every week at this time.” He takes a box down from the top, his muscles straining with the effort, and my mouth goes dry.

Dear Lord above, I’ve never seen anything like him before. The broad shoulders and defined arms are a sight to behold.

It’s borderline ridiculous.

“I’ll take the boxes out behind the bar and show you where to unload them, if you like.”

“Sounds perfect.” I follow him out of the storeroom to the bar, and he sets the boxes down in front of where he wants them.

“Beer bottles go in the cooler. I pull out the existing ones and put the new ones to the back, then the older ones in front.”

“Makes sense.”

“The extra liquor goes in the cabinet under here.”

“Got it. Looks pretty self-explanatory.”

“Now, I have one very important question, lass.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“What kind of music do you prefer? We can’t do this in silence, can we?”

“No, that wouldn’t work at all. Hmm… I guess just regular pop music.”

He pulls out his phone and taps the screen. A few seconds later, music comes through the speakers in the corners of the room.

“Fancy.”

“I like music,” he replies. “This is satellite radio. If the station starts to irritate you, just let me know.”