And…Deanhasbeen flirting shamelessly, and aside from a few scowls, a couple of grunts, and one narrow-eyed glare when Dean lingered over my hand, he’s been letting me have this.
Letting me enjoy my food without judgment. Complimenting my dress. Asking about the things I like. Paying attention and…circling back to bringing me cookies.
Maybe this doesn’t have to be like all the other times.
Maybe he’s truly not like the other men.
Worry knots my insides for a moment, but I find it doesn’t last longer than that. Because my mind is shifting away from all the ways this is certainly going to go bad for me to…
What about what he likes?
And what does his work entail on a daily basis?
And besides hockey, what doeshelike to watch on TV?
And does he read? Definitely not spicy romance novels like me, considering the surprised and indulgent expression on his face in the gym.
And…
I realize I have a hundred questions. No,more.
But before I can ask any of them, he leans forward and nudges my plate a centimeter in my direction. “Eat your food, cookie.”
“And I’m not nice to you,” I murmur, my fork still suspended, those questions now mingling with the tiniest bit of guilt.
I don’t owe it to any man to be nice to them.
But…I also know that all of my prickliness isn’t because of Jace.
It’s because I’m scared.
And curious. And needy. And, despite my best efforts, I like him.
“I earned it, gorgeous,” he says. “There’s something about you that brings out the wicked in me.”
“Jace—”
He cuts off another piece of meat. “It’s my fault. Seriously. When you get fired up, your eyes spark and your cheeks go slightly pink, and all I can think about is getting between your legs again.”
Plink.
My fork hits my plate and I narrow my eyes at him, annoyance slicing through my middle. “Stop turning me on.”
“It’s the only time you seem to like me”—he smiles to soften the words—“so…no.”
Outrage bubbles up and my cheeks go hot.
Damn. The pesky man is right.
Something I know that he’s recognized thatIknow because he winks again, that smile growing. “Eat, cookie.”
I want to resist, purely on principle.
But the risotto is too good to waste.
“I’ll eat”—triumph in those gorgeous hazel eyes, but I know that my next words will make it short-lived?—
Take that, Jace Henderson.
