For not the first time since meeting, Faith willed Mitch to go back to wherever it was that he came from, if only to keep her from doing or saying something she might regret. Because the longer he stood in front of her, his washboard abs taunting her with their perfectly defined ridges, she couldn’t guarantee she could keep her cool.
“Where’s the broom?” He tied his flannel around his waist, knotting it at his middle. “And dustpan?”
“In the back storage closet. I’ll go get them.”
Mitch’s hand shot out and cuffed her forearm. “No need. I’m on it.”
Eyes fixed to where he held her, Faith swallowed thickly. What was happening to her? Of course, Mitch was attractive. That was plain as day. But she wasn’t interested in him, was she? Because every time she felt herself give in a little to her attraction toward her new neighbor, he would do or say something to completely irritate or upset her. That should cancel it all out, right? But right now, he was being so kind. Chivalrous and helpful. That was a major turn on for any woman. She needed to stop him from being so wonderful before it made her completely swoon.
He released her arm to make his way to the back of the room.
“Mitch!” She whipped around to chase him down, totally unprepared for him to stop in his tracks and turn around. And then, horror of all horrors, her cheek smacked into his solid, bare chest.
“Whoa, there.” Now both hands were on her. Mitch clutched her biceps to keep her upright while she peeled her face from his body, willing the very floor beneath her to open up and swallow her whole. Now would be a totally perfect time for the bakery tocatch fire. She’d welcome it, even, just to avoid having to look up at him. Everything else was going down in flames already.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, eyes dropping to her feet. “I was just going to tell you that you don’t need to help. I can take care of the bakery on my own.”
“I know you can, Faith. I’m not trying to undermine you here. Just trying to help.”
“It would help if you could cover…” She hovered her hand over his stomach region and started over. “It would help if you could cover up all of this.”
“Do you have a shirt I could borrow?” His eyebrow lifted like a challenge.
“I don’t, but I do have this.” She picked up her apron from the counter. Miraculously, it had remained out of the flour mishap zone, leaving it relatively unscathed. “You can put this on.”
He didn’t give her any grief, and more importantly, he didn’t ask why she insisted on it. But Faith figured he knew, and what irked her even more was that helikedit. It was clear he enjoyed tormenting her in this way. And even with the apron looped around his neck and tied at his back, it did nothing to cover up his broad, rounded shoulders or his big arms that could have their own month in a calendar for charity.
Did the local firehouse make those?
She physically shook the thought from her head. Nope. Not going there.
“Nowwill you let me help you clean this up?” He was practically begging.
“Yes. Fine. You can help. You get the broom and dustpan and I’ll grab a trash can from the front.”
With a nod, he turned the corner to head toward the closet and Faith walked to the front of the bakery to retrieve a small wastebin. She took the moment alone to gather herself.
Expelling a hot breath, she braced herself against the glass pastry case, hanging her head until her forehead touched the cool surface. She felt like she was on fire. A little ironic considering Mitch’s profession.
She hadn’t felt like this in longer than she could remember. It wasn’t just that Mitch was a good-looking guy. There were plenty of those around here. It was the way he carried himself, so coolly confident to the point of exasperating. He irritated her as much as he intrigued her, and that was the most frustrating part of it all.
From the back, she heard the cabinet door shut, then caught the sound of Mitch’s boots clomping across the floor. She couldn’t leave him alone to clean it all up, especially when she’d been the one to create the entire mess. But she needed a moment. She wouldn’t go back in there until she was confident one look at Mitch and his muscular build wouldn’t completely unravel her.
But if she waited for that time to come, she might never return.
CHAPTER 9
Mitch’s eyes flickered over to his uncovered window. He wondered if he should invest in window treatments or possibly blinds. Even though itwashis apartment, and he should be able to walk around it freely without worry, he knew Faith had a clear view into it. She didn’t necessarily need a front row seat to his daily routine. A little privacy among neighbors was always a good thing.
Grabbing a measuring tape from the drawer in his kitchen that he’d designated as the official junk drawer, Mitch walked over to the big window just to the left of the front door. He didn’t know the first thing about window treatments but assumed jotting down the dimensions was a good step.
With his arms stretched as far as they could reach, he pressed close to the glass in an attempt to measure the width first. The window was just a bit too big, and he struggled to read the measuring tape while keeping it steady so it didn’t inadvertently bend or snap back.
His attention had been so laser-focused on the window that when he finally tore his gaze from the frame and peered through the actual glass, he was startled to see Faith’s door swing open, followed by her appearing on the landing. Her arms wereburdened with items for the bakery, her hair in an updo with a pretty pink ribbon tying her strawberry-blonde waves in place.
Faith’s eyes locked on his through the glass before she swiftly turned her head and scurried down the staircase, taking them two at a time.
“Faith!” Mitch bellowed from inside his apartment. He let go of the measuring tape and it recoiled, snapping back with such force it sliced the tip of his finger on the flimsy metal. “Shoot.” Blood quickly bubbled near his nailbed. He jammed the injured finger into his mouth. “Faith.” Racing toward his door, he threw it open and chased her down the stairs. “Faith, wait!”
