“Yeah, I know. But I know you judge me.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand. “Even if it’s just a little, for posting those photos.”
“Violet, I don’t care what you post.” I must appear skeptical because he leans closer, face inches away from mine, and hesitantly touches my hand resting on top of the bar. Sparks shoot up my arm where our skin meets, and I hold my breath. “You know I support you, don’t you?”
“I guess,” I mutter, looking up from our hands to his eyes.
“I was caught off guard that day in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to come across as judgmental.” I nod even though I’m waiting for the sarcasm, the cynicism, the punchline. “If you want to fill orders online, you’ll do it. If you want to make your own line of merchandise, you’ll do it. Hell, if you want your own bakery, you’ll fucking do it. And I want you to. I can even help you with the website when we get back. I made the one for Prolimbinary, you know. It’s not hard.”
“Really?” I ask, searching his face. “You’d do that?”
He grins, eyes twinkling with a rare playfulness. “Well, don’t sound so surprised. I enjoy helping people who deserve it.”
“And I’m one of those people?”
He pulls his hand away and takes another sip of his drink. “Don’t let it go to your head, now.”
“I’ll try,” I say, rolling my eyes. “So, what about you? How did it feel to be back? How did your talk go?”
He snorts. “I think I have more PTSD from grad school than I realized. But it was fine.”
“Just fine?”
“It was a lot of socializing.”
“I thought you liked socializing.”
He scoffs, shooting me a disbelieving look. “What in the world gave you that idea?”
My brow knits as I contemplate his question. Landon spends most nights at home, locked away in his office. He has few friends. He never goes out. I always attributed it to his sheer hatred of the majority of the human race and his overall elitist attitude. But maybe this whole time he was just…introverted?
I shrug. “I just assumed, I guess.”
“Networking is a necessary evil,” he says, sipping his drink. “I’d love to be the man behind the scenes focusing solely on research and development, but unfortunately, that’s not possible yet. Maybe one day, if we ever get big enough.”
“You will,” I assure. “What you’re doing…it’s monumental. It’s life-changing.”
“We’ll see,” is all he says, but I don’t miss the grateful look he gives me, like my words mean a lot to him, before he passes me a menu.
I glance over his shoulder at the redhead, who didn’t quite take the hint that Landon’s not available, and scootch my chair a bit closer to his, a strange sort of possessiveness overtaking me. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s dumb. I know it’s bad.
But he grabbed my hand.
He said he supports me.
He said he’ll help me.
And I’m only human.
We eat dinner at the bar, and when we’re done, we head up to the room even though I’m the furthest thing from tired. I’m energized. Wired. And sharing a hotel room with Landon comes with a whole different level of problems when you’re not mentally and physically exhausted.
Landon takes the bathroom first. The shower turns on, and my brain gets all mushy at the thought of Landon undressing and stepping into the hot stream. I try to distract myself by flipping through channels, but there’s nothing more interesting than what’s on the other side of the bathroom wall.
After what seems like ages, the shower turns off, and my head swivels at the sound of the bathroom door swinging open. He emerges, running a towel through his damp hair, a pair of dark sweatpants slung low on his hips, and his incredible chest completely bare. A fluttery feeling takes up residence in my stomach at the sight of all that tight, muscled skin, and I swallow.
It’s a chest. You’ve seen plenty of chests before, Violet.
Sure, I have. But not like this. Not likehis.
I avert my gaze before he catches me staring and try to calm the thousands of butterflies throwing a party in my abdomen.
