“Why can’t you admit that you’re just nice?”
He leaned forward on the counter, his nose just an inch from mine. He was so close that I could lean forward and press my lips to his nice, full lips. Not that I would, except…
Except, his scent was intoxicating, and that very broad, very muscular chest was making me think of things that I shouldn’t be. Like how it felt when his arms wrapped around my body, or what it would be like to lick his chest while?—
“Josie, let me make something very clear to you right now. I am not—nor will I ever be a nice guy.”
7
JR
I shouldn’t have leanedin so damn close. I knew it was a mistake the moment her eyes drifted over my chest. Her pupils widened as her nose crinkled slightly. She was sniffing me again.
And it was damn adorable.
Even if she was still drunk and was pissing me off by being in my house at seven-thirty on a Sunday. I jerked back, refusing to be part of whatever neighborly game she thought this was. I had no interest in getting involved in her life, nor did I want her to think she could walk over here whenever she wanted and make herself at home.
“Are you done?” I snapped.
Flustered, she shook her head. “I haven’t had my tea.”
Sighing in frustration, I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her toward the door, but she misinterpreted my intentions and sighed in relief, sinking down into one of my rental pieces of furniture.
“Oh, this feels good,” she groaned as she took her first sip of tea. “I could sleep in a chair like this.”
“But you won’t because you’re leaving.”
“Mmm, just as soon as I finish this. I can’t function without my tea.”
“Why did you come over here?”
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. “To thank you. And for the tea.”
“You have the tea. You’ve said thank you?—”
“You’re a good man, Tennessee. I mean, if I knew your actual name, that would be nice. Who doesn’t tell someone else their name?”
“Someone who doesn’t want to be friends,” I muttered, stalking back to the kitchen. If I was going to put up with her, it was going to be with caffeine running through my veins.
“You could definitely be a Tennessee,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “Or a Huck.”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to engage in this banter.
“Tell me something, Tennessee, why did you stick around?”
Taking my first sip of coffee, I leaned against the counter, refusing to sit down with her. That would only invite more conversation.
She peeled one eye open and quirked an eyebrow at me.
“Because I did,” I sighed in frustration.
“But you didn’t just stick around. You were working in the bar last night.”
“And?”
“And that suggests long-term plans.”
“No, that suggests I was working in the bar one night.”
