“Excuse me?”
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my cool. “Are you like this all the time, or am I just special?”
His lips twitched, and I could see a flicker of amusement behind his usually stoic expression. “Everything is in order on the build, is it not?”
“Well, yes,” I nodded, “but-”
“Then what do I need to talk to you about?” He gave a casual shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Both ends are solid.”
I rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. “So you only like to talk to me when you can take care of me?”
“What are you trying to get out of this, Miss Flynn?” His voice was calm, but I knew there was something else there.
“Forget it.” I exhaled.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me just as confused as the first night I met him. But my stupidmouth couldn’t let it go. “Why did you punch him?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Connor stopped mid-step, his body tensing. “What?” His voice had dropped an octave, his eyes all over me as he turned.
“Why did you hit him?” I repeated.
He shrugged, looking away for a moment. “He deserved it.”
I nodded slowly. Blakediddeserve it. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.”
There was a pause, the air between us thick with whatever we left unsaid. “Okay, um, I guess I should go,”
“Did you finish your salad?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I want you to take care of yourself.” There was something about the way he said it that made my chest tighten. I could feel the weight of his concern,his care, and it made me question everything I’d been trying to ignore for so long.
“I am,” I responded.
“Yeah, good,” he nodded, as if he was done with the conversation.
I cleared my throat, trying to break the awkward silence. “Is there anything else you needed, Mr. Easton?”
“Call me Connor.” The words were gentle, but the way he looked at me made my pulse skip.
“Connor,” I repeated, correcting myself. We were standing so close now, and I couldn’t help but notice the height difference between us. He was towering over me, and for a moment, my eyes wandered, catching on the scar on his cheek and the way his short beard seemed to catch the light. I swallowed hard, trying to push the image of him kissing me out of my mind, of the way that beard would feel between my thighs.
“I’m going to go.” I rushed out, trying to get away from him as fast as I could. I gave him a small, awkward wave like an idiot and started to open my car door. But before I could sit down,Connor’s hand shot out, stopping me. His body leaned in, a faint smile on his lips.
“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?”
I swear at that moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart skipped a beat, and I found myself nodding before I even processed what was happening. “You… want to go out with me?” I asked, still unsure if I heard him right.
He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “Yeah, I do. Is that a problem?”
I felt my cheeks burn with a sudden rush of warmth. “No,” I swallowed.
“Good. You should have my number in your files,” he smirked. “Let me know the time and place.”
Before I could say anything else, he was already turning away, walking back toward the house. And I stood there, stunned, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.
