“But?”
“Not a ‘but’ exactly. More a why? As in, why do you keep looking at me like I’m a bad stink caught in the wind? Because I’ll have you know, I shower every day. Twice when I’m working. Which makes me a fairly clean individual.”
It’s cute the way he’s rambling, as though he’s nervous. I’ve never actually seen August nervous. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s feeling chatty. But I enjoy it regardless.
“And,” he concludes with a proud lift of the chin, “I’ve been told I smell pretty damn good.”
Truth? He smells great. Always has. Pure delicious pheromones. But that little taunt does something to me. Something wicked that’s not like me at all.
I tilt my head, considering. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. Women love the way I smell—” He lets out a strangled sound as I rise to my toes until the tip of my nose touches the warm curve of his neck to draw in his scent.
I’d acted on pure impulse, wanting to bethatgirl: the fun one who disarms men with her charm. But I’m an amateur, way out of my depth. My body tightens like a clenched fist, hot and quick. All rational thought falls by the wayside.
He’s warm and solid, and the scent of his skin makes me dizzy. My eyes flutter closed as I swallow hard and try not to fall into him. Because I want that. I want to lean against August’s long, hard body and just burrow.
The moment stretches, both of us sort of swaying. My heart beats so hard and fast—he must hear it. Panic follows. He’s going to know what he does to me, and I’ll never live it down. Worse, if I don’t move I’m going to kiss his neck, and where would that leave me? Total humiliation.
My breath gusts out, and he shivers, little goose bumps rising on his skin. For a second, I swear he’s turning his head, lowering it to get closer. I can’t breathe. Maybe I’ll faint and end up in an inelegant sprawl right here on the airport floor.
The horror of that image has me falling back on my heels with an audible thud. We stare at each other, August with his brow knit as though he can’t believe my cheek, me with what I’m going to assume is red-faced awkwardness.
I clear my throat. “You smell... ah, great. But for the record. I never thought you smelled bad. And I don’t find you annoying. That expression is just my face doing its thing.”
His brow clears. “For the record, it’s a great face.”
“I . . . oh.” What???
“I know you thought I wasn’t serious when I said you were attractive last night. But I was. You’re very pretty, Penelope.”
I’m in very real danger of giggling. Or swallowing my tongue.
Focus, woman. Bethatgirl again.
“Is this a come-on?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Cut it out, August.”
A frown flits across his face. He’s going to argue. But he retreats like a pro. “All right. I’ll behave. Besides, I have something I want to talk to you about, so stop distracting me with your cuteness.”
I have no idea how to respond. I simply nod.
August turns to an unoccupied kiosk. “You got a QR code to check in?”
“Uh . . . Oh. Yes.”
“Let me see.”
Not thinking, I hand him my phone with the code at the ready. He deftly signs me in, and before I can blink, he’s upgrading me to first class.
“Hey—”
“Don’t worry. I’m paying for it.” He slips his card into the machine while I flail around trying to stop him. “I want to talk to you, and we’ll have more privacy this way.”
“That’s all great, August. But you still need to ask me if it’s okay.”
