“For you,” I say ceremoniously.
“Wow. My first Cutie Fruitie smoothie.”
“Say that five times fast.”
His dimples flicker under his beard and my panties instantly flood.
Christ. Does he have any idea what he does to me?
Yeah. Maybe he got some idea, last night.
“I would’ve come over to try one sooner,” he says, “but I didn’t think the proprietor would want me there.”
“You mean, the proprietor you don’t like?” I say casually, recalling what he told me about not depriving Kaylie of a smoothiejust because I don’t like the proprietor.
He cocks his head a bit, like he doesn’t understand.
Maybe he forgot he said that. But I definitely haven’t. It stung.
It still stings.
I change the subject. “I was just heading back to the cottage and popped into the bar, but you weren’t there. Figured you’d be here. I had to say thank you. For the ice. And for coming over to fix my ice machine like a hero, despite our little competition. That was cool of you.”
“No big deal. I’ve fixed those machines before.”
“Well, I appreciate that you were willing to sheath your sword long enough to help me out.”
My cheeks heat as his gaze darkens and drifts down to my lips. And I realize that “willing to sheath your sword” has an entirely different connotation. One I didn’t intend.
Because I amnothitting on him. Or inviting him to fuck me again.
Last night, I came to his house and basically challenged him to fuck me.
Brave, maybe.
And the result was excellent.
But I am never, ever doing it again.
If he doesn’t come back for seconds, I am over it.
I hope.
“I brought you an extra-large.” I fill the silence when he doesn’t take the smoothie. “In the expensive cup. You can keep it. It’s double-walled to keep it cold. Dishwasher-safe. Enjoy. I promise, it’s not poisoned.”
The corner of his mouth flickers with amusement. Finally, he picks it up and takes a sip. I wait while he savors.
His eyes lock with mine.
“Good?” I prompt, weirdly nervous about his reaction. Is this how he felt when I first tasted his cider, at his bar?
“I may have been wrong,” he says mildly. His gaze slides over my face. “About smoothies. Maybe you’re onto something with this liquid-fruit thing.”
I cock my head. “I mean, aren’t you also in the business of liquid fruit?”
His eyes sparkle. “Good point.” He takes another sip, then says seriously, “It’s really good, Sierra.”
“I know. I just whipped that up tonight, for you. I’m thinking of adding it to the menu. It’s called Cherry Pie.”
