“Can you pass the vanilla extract?”
“Yes,” I answer, sliding the bottle over to him to avoid our hands brushing romantically. That’s the last thing I need from him right now if him cracking eggs is enough to make me feel some type of way.
I dutifully ignore him as I measure the dry ingredients into another bowl, but I’m so painfully aware of his presence. After whisking it all together, I shove the bowl at him.
“Here, slowly add this into the bowl and I’ll get started on the filling so it can cool.”
His voice is amused as he asks, “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?” I grab another mixing bowl then look up at him, the very act I’ve been avoiding for the past ten minutes. He’s smiling at me, amusement alight in his eyes.
He points a finger at my face. “That whole purposefully put something on your face so I have to wipe it off trick?”
My eyes widen, cheeks heating. “There’s something on my face?”
In front of him? How mortifying.
My hands fly to both cheeks, frantically patting the skin to find what’s on there. My right hand connects with a wet splotch of batter and the heat of the blush only deepens. Not even a cute little dusting of flour on my nose. It’s a whole splatter of uncooked batter on my cheek. How did that even get there?
Frantically I spin, on an immediate hunt for my dish towel to clean the mess as soon as possible. The second I turn, though, I find him standing two steps away with a delighted grin on his face and my dishtowel in his hand. That’s right. It was on his stupidly broad shoulder this whole time.
I pause my panic and he closes the distance between us. I back up until my back hits the countertop. My hand is still clamped on my cheek and I watch with bated breath and he gently wraps his fingers around my wrist and lowers it, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity in his stare has my heartbeat kicking up a notch.
He finally breaks eye contact to focus on dabbing the batter from my fingers first, a smirk still playing on his lips. I take his distraction to study those lips, the unwelcome thought of what they might feel like against mine sweeping into my mind.
His eyes flick up and find mine again.
“You’re cute when you’re panicked,” he muses.
“Cute isn’t the compliment you think it is,” I say, but the words come out embarrassingly breathless. I clear my throat. His smile widens, that damn dimple popping.
I drag my focus to my now clean hand, pretending to inspect it for any batter residue. He hooks his fingers under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his again and I swear my whole body is on fire now. He turns my cheek slightly and dabs the towel lightly on my still sticky cheek.
“Well you must already know how beautiful you are. I was trying to find a new compliment for you. One you’ve never heard before.”
“Why is that?”
When he’s finished wiping my cheek he uses the fingers still under my chin to refocus my attention on him. A spark flaring in his eyes, suddenly appearing a much deeper shade of blue.
“So you’d know just how much I really don’t hate you.” I arch a brow at him and his smile widens, dimple deepening. He flicks the towel over his shoulder again and rests his freehand on the counter next to me, leaning in closer to me. “I’m serious.”
“You’ve never been serious about a woman in your entire life.”
“It just takes one special one to change everything.”
I realize he’s just a breath away now. I could just rise up on my toes and kiss him if I wanted to.
And wow, did I want to.
I’m drawing in a breath, preparing to make the move, when three swift knocks sound at my door, pulling me back to reality.
I want to groan in disappointment. Anger. Irritation at whoever has the audacity to show up at my apartment at this very second. Reid must be feeling the exact same thing because a muscle clenches in his jaw as he steps back slowly, his hand dropping from under my chin.
I put all two tragic inches of space between us as Lola steps inside, a cloth tote bag hanging offher elbow and cups of coffee in either hand. She bumps the door shut with her hip.
“I’m sorry! Coffee Corner was crazy again, but I’m—” Lola’s eyes widen when she finally clocks me still trapped beside Reid. “Oh.Oh. Sorry, I’ll go. I’m definitely interrupting something.”
I narrow my eyes at her, trying desperately to get her to stop talking. She raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of her mouth turning up in the faintest smirk.
