And that body?
Yeah.
Definitely built like someone who wrestles with monsters for a living.
But it’s his eyes that stop me.
Deep vibrant blue.
The kind of blue you find in oceans and deep seas after a hurricane.
Fierce.
Wild.
They’re focused entirely on me—and my entire being seems to notice.
And his mouth?
Hard lips that look decidedly unfriendly.
Except now I’m wondering what it would take to make them soften.
I blink.
Then, I shake my head sharply.
Absolutely not.
I don’t want a man.
I don’t need one.
Men are distractions.
Messy, complicated distractions that cheat on you with their assistant and call you “too nice” on the way out the door.
No, thank you.
So I plaster on my best professional smile and call out brightly, “Next!”
The word rings through the shop as I try to hide behind the counter, the scoops, the safety of customer service voice.
But the giant Tiger of a man steps right up to the counter like he belongs there.
And for a moment?
He just stares at me.
Like the entire world stopped spinning.
Then he says the one thing I never expected to hear in my ice cream shop.
One word.
Low.
Rough.
