Deep Voice turned around, revealing a ruggedly handsome man with a three-day beard. His hair was dark and finger-combing long. His broad shoulders filled out a heavy winter coat with ease. He’d unzipped the outer layer to reveal a black sweater over a white tee shirt. Even with all those layers on, she could see that his pectorals would make horrible pillows—too firm.
Not that she’d consider taking a nap on his chest on a winter afternoon!
Oh no. She would not go to that shaft of sunlight on the couch like a cat, ready to splay herself all over him and purr.
Maybe she’d knead her fingers through his hair. Their eyes met. His sparkled as if he knew what she was thinking. Knew what she was thinking and was ready to jump into that ray of sunshine and let her paw him.
Nope. No hormone doctor for her–they were raging just fine all on their own.
Embarrassed, her pulse spiked, and her cup slipped from her fingers and landed with aThud. Clap. Splash.
She jumped backward and bumped the counter, letting out a yip. That would leave a mark. She wanted to rub the spot but stopped short of massaging her backside in front of the most handsome man she’d seen in her whole entire life.
“Clove!” Zoey yelled as she rounded the corner, holding a wet rag. Thankfully, the lid stayed on until it hit the floor, and most of the mess spread out instead of splashing. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry!” She caught the paper towel roll Tyler threw her and ripped off five towels, handing them to Zoey. “I blanked.”
Zoey leaned across her to drop the dripping rag into the sink. “Play it cool,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.
“I’m trying,” Clove growled back, looking anywhere but at Deep Voice.
Zoey gave her a look that said: Try harder.
What was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she handled gorgeous men staring deep into her eyes every day. She chanced a look in his direction and found him leaning over the map and conversing quietly with Trevor as if he wasn’t in the same room as a total spaz.
He scooted his hat to the side, and she sighed, embarrassingly loud. Darn it all if she wasn’t a sucker for a good hat. Looked like it was in shape too. Half the men around here wore flimsy brims and misshaped tops.
Then there were his jeans; name-brand, boot cut pants that hugged him just tight enough to make things interesting.
Zoey pressed a fresh cup of cocoa into her hand. When had she filled that? Probably during the thirty seconds it took Clove to drool all over herself because of a hat and a good pair of jeans.
He caught her looking and turned his full attention on her once again. Leaning against the counter, he smiled, revealing straight-white teeth and creases around his eyes. It is so unfair that men only get more handsome with age. “You’re Felix?” He looked her up and down quickly–the action more teasing than checking her out. “You don’t look like a reindeer.” His eyes lingered on her hair.
Trevor guffawed, holding his stomach as if the guy was the senior quarterback and he the freshman bench warmer.
Heaven help her, was he flirting? Withher?! He quirked an eyebrow. Hewas!
Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh!
Zoey cleared her throat and gently nudged Clove to get her tongue working again.
She hurriedly ran her hand over her hair to tame flyaways. Stupid helmet. “I’m Clove. Felix is my reindeer.” There. A full two sentences that both made sense. She could do this.
His smile moved from teasing to satisfaction and sent sparks of awareness dancing through her belly like those fireworks that spiral before exploding.
Abort! Abort! Can’t handle this man!She sipped her cocoa and burned her tongue. The acidic aftertaste made her blanch.Why were there no words left in the universe?She couldn’t find one, nor form one. If Zoey put a script in front of her face, she wouldn’t be able to read it.
“I’d like to meet him,” he said kindly.
That would be lovely,she mentally replied–still unable to make her mouth move.
Hi Grandma, I took your advice and look what I found in town.That was NOT going to happen.
If Allen caused Grandma to think about matchmaking, this guy would have her buying wedding dresses off Amazon. Okay, time to make a memorable and flirty exit. She could do this. She was a strong, independent woman who managed a homestead, an entire flock of chickens, and a flying reindeer.
She dug out a five-dollar bill and placed it on the counter. “Maybe someday you will,” she replied, unable to hold eye contact for too long and maintain the sense of cool aloofness she was going for. It was time to get out of here. “Thanks, Zoe,” she called over her shoulder.
“Call me!” Zoey yelled back.
