“Maybe it is for him.”
She looks up at that, really looks at me, and I let myself hold her gaze. Let her see exactly what I’m thinking. Her cheeks flush pink, and her scent blooms—warmer, sweeter, with an undertone that goes straight to my cock.
Not helpful when I’m trying to have a conversation.
I’ve thought about this woman more than I should admit. Wondered what it would take to make her let go of all that control. Whether she’d be quiet or loud. Whether she tastes as good as she smells.
I’m a patient man. But patience has limits.
“Just means some people are complicated,” I say, keeping my voice light even though my thoughts are anything but. “You want me to talk to him?”
“No. I can handle Ben Wilson.” There’s a determined edge to her voice. “I just need to corner him somewhere he can’t escape.”
“Good luck with that. Man’s slippery when he wants to be.”
She makes a frustrated sound and goes back to her laptop. I watch her for another moment—the furrow between her brows, the way she taps her pen against the bar when she’s thinking, the tension in her shoulders that never seems to ease.
What would it take to make her relax? Really relax, not just the temporary loosening that comes from finishing a task. I want to know what she looks like when she’s not carrying the weight of every event in Honeyridge on her shoulders. Want to know if that lavender scent gets stronger when she’s happy, when she’s turned on, when she’s?—
I head to the kitchen before my thoughts can go somewhere I can’t come back from.
Ten minutes later, I set a basket of fries in front of her.
She blinks at it like it’s a foreign object. “I didn’t order these.”
“I know.”
I walk away before she can argue, but I watch from the other end of the bar as she stares at the fries for a solid thirty seconds. She looks at me—I’m suddenly very busy polishing a glass—then back at the fries. Confused. Annoyed. Then something softer creeps in.
She eats one fry. Then another.
That’s my girl.
By the time I look over again, half the basket is gone and she’s typing with one hand while reaching for more with the other. Some of the tension has eased from her shoulders. Her scent is warmer now, more lavender than citrus, and when she catches me watching, she doesn’t look away immediately.
Progress.
I give her another twenty minutes before I wander back over.
“Refill on the water?”
“Please.” She doesn’t look up from her screen. “And thank you. For the fries.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Those just appeared. Magic bar fries.”
That gets a small smile out of her. I want to make her do that again. Want to make her laugh, really laugh, until she forgets tobe guarded. Want to know if she’d smile like that after I made her come.
“So.” I lean against the bar, close enough that my scent mingles with hers. Dark chocolate and amber meeting lavender and citrus. “The bachelor auction. How’s that going?”
“Slowly.” She sighs. “I need eight total. I’ve got you, Elijah, and Theo. That’s five more to wrangle.”
“Who else are you thinking?”
“Dr. Lucas Price said he’d do it if I could find someone to cover his shift at the clinic. Sam Hunter hasn’t returned my calls.” She rubs her temple. “After that, I’m running out of ideas.”
“What if I could get you four?” I offer. “Lucas owes me a favor. Sam comes in here most Fridays—I can be persuasive. And there’s a couple of college guys who drink here, Jake and Asher. They’re only twenty-two, if you don’t mind them being on the younger side.”
Tessa’s head snaps up. “You could get me four bachelors?”
