He chuckled again, but quieter this time, and warmer, and every one of my defenses shuddered.
I busied myself stacking notepads. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re good. Professional. Unmessy. I promise not to smack you with a kiss, if that’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”
His gaze tracked me, lingering in a way that made the room feel smaller.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
My brows lifted. “If you say so.”
“Okay,” he said finally. “Then let’s talk ground rules.”
Ground rules.
Right. This was good. Responsible. Normal people did this.
“Fine,” I said, pulling a pen from the drawer. “Rule number one: no confusing the guests.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning no weird tension. No staring. No…”
I waved vaguely around my head. “Whatever the thing is you do.”
“What thing?”
“You know the thing.”
His mouth tugged in that infuriating semi-smile. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Ugh.” I paced behind the desk. “Rule two: no… physical distractions.”
His brows lifted. “Physical… distractions.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “No pulling your shirt off outside of your tent.”
He laughed and shook his head. “In this weather?”
I smiled and nodded.
“Then I have one for you.”
“Okay.”
“No kissing!”
I opened my mouth and shut it since I was the one who initiated the kiss. “That’s fair. And rule three…” I paused, tapping the pen against my notebook. “No being weird.”
“Weird,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Define weird.”
“Anything that makes me forget how words work.”
