“I just blush easily. It’s not you,” she said quietly, fidgeting with her napkin.
“Well, I like watching it,” I said low, watching her carefully. Her gaze didn’t look away from mine, and we sat staring at one another for a moment before she broke the silence.
“I think you like watching a lot of things, don’t you?” she whispered, her cheeks deepening their shade of red.
“Are you going to ask me what I like to watch? Because this is starting to sound like a very blush-worthy conversation, and I’m not sure your cheeks would be able to handle it.”
She lifted her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut with a loud laugh. “They sort of do feel like they could burst into flames any minute.”
“Well, let’s change the subject then. I wouldn’t want that beautiful face to self destruct unless it was something noteworthy,” I teased.
“Noteworthy? Hmmm.” she said, curiously. “And what would be noteworthy enough to make my cheeks completely explode?” she asked folding her arms across her chest.
“A long sordid, filthy night with me,” I smiled, leaning back against the cushion of the booth.
She looked away then, her cheeks and neck, even the tops of her ears turned a bright, blazing red. “God, you are such an ass,” she laughed. “Do any women actually believe your lies?”
Lies? I chuckled at her accusation. It was said bitterly. She was burned by someone—probably recently—she didn’t even think my flirting with her was actually true. That blew.She was holding on tightly to some sort of baggage, wasn’t she?
I wanted to ask her about it. I wanted to know everything about her.Everything. But our food came out then, and the waitress clanked our loaded plates down in front of us and without hesitation she dug right in. I watched her eat for a minute, amazed.How could watching someone eat be so sexy?
“In all seriousness, tell me why getting flowers makes you cry,” I said, after a huge bite of my burger.
She poured a ton of ketchup into her plate, drowning most of her fries, and shook her head. “Nope.”
“Well, I really need to know. You know, just in case I ever have the audacity to find it in myself to purchase the offending gift for a woman.”
“Why?” she groaned, and took a huge bite out of her burger. “This was a nice conversation.” A dab of ketchup smeared over her cheek. “You don’t want to hear about my stupid flowers, believe me.” She talked through chewing, and held up a finger. “And don’t go by me, most women love flowers. Just don’t give them to someone out of guilt.”
I reached out and brushed the ketchup off with my thumb, thoughtlessly. Her smiled faded and for a brief terrifying moment she looked like she might get sick. “I’m sorry. You just had some ketchup,” I whispered, gesturing with my fingers where the ketchup was on her cheek.
She pressed her lips together tightly and looked down.
“Does the thought of me touching you always make you look green?” I asked.
Her gaze back shot up to mine, a tentative shy smile slowly appeared on her lips, and once again, her cheeks filled with color. I leaned back watching, enjoying the sunset across the soft perfection of her face.
“I try not to think of you touching me,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, though her voice trembled and tripped over the words. She reached for a French fry and dipped it in more ketchup.
“I think I like the fact that you have totrynot to think about me touching you,” I baited. I know I was horrible, but this back and forth with her was the highlight of my days since coming to this command.
She popped the fry into her mouth and choked out a cough. “That’s not what I meant.” She balled up her napkin and tossed it at me.
“Yeah, maybe. But that’s what I’m going with.”
“You are such a huge flirt. Why?”
“I’m not a huge flirt,” I laughed.
“Yes, you are. This morning, I watched you flirting with Martinez, sitting on the corner of her desk. She was giggling and blushing and flipping her gorgeous hair at you.” She sipped at her shake, swallowed and continued, “You’re always flirty and fooling around.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “And what did you feel when I was talking to the gorgeous-haired Martinez?”
“Absolutely nothing, why?” She deadpanned tragically. Someone needed to tell her what an awful liar she was.
“Just wondering.” I took another bite of my food and chewed slowly, watching her reaction. She swirled a fry through the ketchup, but didn’t put it in her mouth. “Martinez does have gorgeous hair,” I added, with a smile.
“Yes, she does,” she agreed, quietly.
