“Who on earth said that? Someone in your dreams?” I chuckle at my joke.
“Funny. No, it was a girl I met at a baseball game.”
“Uh-huh. And let me guess—she asked for your autograph and then was extremely embarrassed that she thought you were someone else, she apologized profusely, you consoled her, bought her a drink, and then took her home that night. Was she one of the hot-tub girls?”
“No,” he drags out. “But the rest of that story is scarily accurate.”
“Figured. When I was in college, there was this wave of girls who would pull that trick on guys all the time to get free drinks and an easy lay.”
“Any guy is an easy lay.”
“It was a pickup move. She played you.”
“Whatever, play me all you want. I had sex that night.”
“As if it’s hard for you to find someone to have sex with you.”
“You’ve been difficult,” he says, his voice practically caressing my skin. Once again, those goosebumps spread. “But, then again, you friend-zoned me from the beginning, so there was no chance.”
“You were off limits. I didn’t have a choice but to friend-zone you.”
He pauses, his rough cheek moving across mine as his hands sink deeper into the mixture. “Why was I off limits?” His lips nearly move against my cheek; I can feel them, they’re so close. Just a feather of a whisper away.
And it’s frustrating because I shouldn’t want his lips near me, I shouldn’t be comfortable with him wrapped around me, I shouldn’t wait impatiently for him to call mebabe, but here I am, waiting with bated breath for his next move.
“Because you’re Huxley’s brother. Because my company falls under your management. Because I knew you were in a different frame of mind than I am.”
“And if those weren’t factors, then what, Kelsey?”
I swallow hard.
My hands have slowed, barely mixing, and my heart pounds so loudly, it sounds deafening in my ears.
His cologne surrounds me.
His voice rumbles across my skin.
He’s deliciously trapped me between him and the counter.
This is everything I could dream up for a romantic moment, and yet, the man who’s making me feel, the man who’s turning me into a pool of yearning... is supposed to be my friend. He’s not supposed to be the one who makes my heart beat faster.
“Hell, I don’t know why I asked that,” he says, when he pulls his hands from the bowl, mistaking my silence for discomfort. “You have your reasons, and it’s great that we have this. You and me, friends. It’s been easy.”
I don’t turn toward him. I can’t.
I can’t let him see the way he affects me.
I can’t let him hear the thick breaths I’m taking, attempting to find that easy rhythm again.
And I can’t let him see how my hands are clawing at the masa, begging and pleading for him to come back.
“What can I do to prepare for the next step?” he asks.
I take a deep, steadying breath and slow my racing heartbeat. “You can lay out the husks and grab that spatula. We’re going to start spreading the masa on them.”
“You got it, babe.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.Keep it together, Kelsey.
