“Chloe?”
I jerk my attention back to his face like I’ve been caught stealing. “What?”
He’s grinning. Like, knows-exactly-what-I-was-doing grinning. Busted. “I asked where you want this banner.”
“Oh. Um—” Think. Words. Use them. String them together in a coherent fashion. “Above the gift table?”
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just…concentrating.”
“On my arms?”
My face goes nuclear. Like Chernobyl levels of meltdown. “I was not—you’re very—I mean—shut up.”
He laughs. The sound reminds me of that ocean color in his eyes, like waves crashing on the shore. Loud, exciting. I need to hear it again.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“You’re flustered.”
I spin back to my work, focusing very hard on the precise placement of the dessert trays. “Are you going to hang that banner or just stand there being smug about your stupid attractive forearms?”
“I can do both.” He gets the ladder from the storage closet Lisa pointed out and sets it up.
I watch him climb up, reach for the banner, secure it to the wall.
“Toss me the other end?” he calls down.
“I got it.” I grab the banner’s opposite corner and climb on a chair, because I’m helpful like that.
“Careful,” Brody warns.
“I’ve got it.”
Deep down, I’ll admit that I should have known I don’t “got it.” But in this moment, all I’m thinking isLook at us, we’re so cute working together.
I reach too far, trying to line up the banner with the hook. The chair wobbles, and I have a brief moment of clarity where I thinkThis is it. This is how I die.
And suddenly, I’m in Brody’s arms.
We’re pressed together. My hands on his shoulders. His arms around my waist. His face inches from mine.
Neither of us moves.
“You keep doing that,” I hear myself say.
Brody frowns. “Doing what?”
“Swooping in to save me.”
He chuckles, but his voice is rough, deeper than normal. “Anytime.”
We should pull apart. Step back.
We don’t.
