“So you followed me.”
“I saw you pulling over here and wanted to do a good deed and make sure you weren’t wading into a property war between Mr. Avocado and Mrs. Marshmallow Fluff.”
He’s doing it again.
He’s beingDuke, and it’s both my favorite thing ever and also what puts me on guard. I sigh softly and shove my hair back out of my face as the wind rustles it. “I can’t find anything else on Chandler andI am now playing dirty. Go away.”
“Can a guy not simply want to go hiking on treacherous ice and snow with a captivating woman?”
“No.” Because I don’t trust myself to not throw myself at him and confess what I’ve done, which will ruin the entire impact. “Jitter. C’mon, boy. We’re going for a hike, and Grey’s going to learn the hard way that tourists are a mountain lion’s favorite snack.”
Jitter harrumphs at me, then lies down on the path right at Grey’s feet.
Grey shrugs. “Hate to tell you, but if Jitter wants me, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”
He knows.
He absolutely knows I called his grandmother, and he is going to torture me with pretending he doesn’t until I cave and tell him thatMs. Hot Mess on the Beach called his grandmother.
I stare at him.
He stares back like he knows this is the start of a staring contest, and he knows I’ll win, but he also won’t make it easy on me.
And he doesn’t.
My eyes are burning and freezing at the same time before he breaks, though he doesn’t so much break as he speaks while also holding me captive with his bright blue eyes. “May I please join you so as to not offend your dog?”
“You hate the cold,” I remind him.
“Says who?”
“Says my powers of observation.”
He shrugs, palms up and everything. “You’re not wrong. But your dog wants me to come, so I have to suck it up. I don’t make the rules. Jitter does.”
I pull in a massive breath through my nose, then blow it out slowly, feeling myself giving in to what I want when I know just how dangerous it is.
And I’m not talking about him walking on this path in those boots, which he truly cannot do.
Too much ice.
And his jeans will get soaked, and I’ll have to carry him back when he passes out from the cold.
“Is stress the only reason you get lightheaded?” I ask.
“That’s what my doctor suspects at this point.”
“Are you drinking enough water?”
“Have you met Zen? Tall, slender, blond hair, pain in the ass? My self-appointed personal assistant who would leap in front of a speeding train to stop it if they thought it might veer offtrack and possibly scuff one of my fingernails wrong? You think they’ll let me get away with not drinking enough water?”
“We’re going to dig into that later.”
“That’ll be a fun conversation.”
He’s back.
The man I met in Hawaii is fully back, without me inviting him back this time, and every cell in my body is reacting to the flirtation.
