“The song. What are you humming?” He has a small, lopsided smile and little bubbles swirl in my belly.
“Oh, um you’ve probably never heard of it.” I keep my eyes zeroed in on my knife and swallow the tune down.
“Try me,” he says and pulls out his phone.
“It’s calledThin Moonby Mayer Hawthorne.” It’s not a mainstream song or even very popular, but the guy is my super nerd crush and I listen to him daily.
I watch Burke as he slides his finger along his screen then smiles when he finds whatever he’s looking for. The sound of piano keys fills the room from the small speaker and I know instantly what song it is. I continue on with chopping pecans as the song plays and Burke stands just off to my side. I begin humming again and move my hips just slightly, side to side.
“I like it.” Burke’s voice is velvety and smooth and I shiver when it hits me in my core.
“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.
The sound of the churner is going, the piano notes are playing, and Mayer’s voice croons a silky melody. I'm so lost to the music and chopping pecans that I don’t notice the spatula that is suspended in front of me at first. I pull back and look cross-eyed at the creamy mound that sits on it.
“Time for the taste test,” he tells me and gives that spatula a small shake.
I set down the knife and wipe my hands on the apron. Cautiously I stick my tongue out and swipe up the cool cream. It’s perfectly sweet without being overly sugary, and the taste brings back memories of playing in the tall grass and running through the pecan orchard.
“Mmm. Even better when it’s fresh.” I moan, then throw my eyes open when I realize what I just said.
“What?” Burke asks, not sure if what he heard is correct and I brilliantly, at the same time, say, “what?” Like I’m questioning myself.
“You said this is even better when it’s fresh. Have you had some previously?” I lick my lips and swallow down the last remnants of peachy pecan deliciousness.
“Um, well see, the other night I was at Coopers picking up a few things and I saw that they had a couple of gallons of your ice cream left. I thought I would try it out and it’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” He asks with a cocky smirk. “The way you moaned sounded like it was a helluva lot more thannot bad.”
My cheeks burn red and I close my eyes before admitting, “Okay. Fine. I’ve been buying it for weeks. It’s delicious, I love it, and I dream about it when I run out.”
When I roll them open, I see Burke’s smile large and wide and arrogance wafting off of him like cologne. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with that amused look on his face. It’s infuriating.
I watch as he picks up the small bowl and dip the spatula in, coming away with another dollop of fresh ice cream. My eyes are glued to his hand as it moves closer and closer until it stops just a breath from my lips. I look up at him and his steely gray eyes are watching me, waiting for what I’ll do next.
Slowly, I open my mouth and let my tongue lap at it. He doesn’t waver in his gaze and when I close my lips, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. This time around I’m able to control my moaning and swallow it down with the ice cream. When it’s all down, I lick my cool lips and stand unmoving.
From my peripheral, I see his hand coming into view. I’m nervous and not sure what to do. Should I slap his hand away? Do I bite his finger if it gets too close? Or should I just drop everything and run? While I’m standing here stupidly contemplating thewhat if’s, I’m jolted when he presses his finger to the corner of my mouth and swipes. I watch his hand as it retreats, my eyes crossing at the tip of my nose.
My heart is pounding, there’s a whooshing sound in my ears, and I feel my toes tingle as the blood rushes down. Burke’s lips are moving but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I feel like I’m in a tunnel and he’s at the other end, trying to call out.
“Huh,” I ask, blinking my eyes.
“Ice cream. You had a smudge of ice cream on you.” He holds up his finger that is dotted with a spot of ice cream.
“Oh. Okay. Well,” I say as I fight to untie my apron. I give up and say, “I think I heard my brother. I’ll be back. Take your time.”
I stumble over my words and my feet as I try to flee, apron still hanging from my neck and full blown panic on my face. I walk out and don’t look back because I’m feeling utterly embarrassed. Of course he would have no way of knowing that his small touch opened a floodgate between my thighs and I needed to get away from him before I did something stupid, likerip his clothes off and roll around in ice cream just so I could lick him clean.
Oh god, I hope I have an extra pair of panties in my office.
10
BURKE
Iexamine my reflection in the mirror and decide that the sweater is too much, so I pull it off and throw it on my bathroom floor. A simple long sleeved shirt in dusty blue is the way to go. The sweater was like I was trying too hard and the whole point is to look like I’mnot. Another spritz of cologne and turning off the lights.
It’s only two o’clock and I know I’m going to be early but…I don’t have anything other than the truth and I sure as hell won’t say it out loud. I’ll think of something to say on the drive over. I can only hope she buys it.
