My throat constricts, and I shift the silly present in my arms.“Soooo, are you ready for the auction?”I ask.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”Cobie shrugs.“Thanks again for your help, by the way.After I spoke with you and Violet, I began knocking on sorority doors and got another twenty or so volunteers.”
“Really?”My eyes bulge.Twenty volunteers?Considering the stipulations, I’m impressed.
Cobie nods.“Yeah.If it’s good enough for Jagger’s girlfriend, I guess it’s good enough for them.Now, we just wait and see how many guys show up.”Her shoulders lift again.“Jagger offered to send out a few invites for me, so I think we’ll have a decent showing?I don’t know.We’ll see, but…”
I don’t hear what else Cobie says.Nope.I’m a little distracted by a sweaty Ford Harden with taped knuckles in nothing but a pair of dark basketball shorts.Calves, forearms, chest, abs, they’re all on full display, making my knees threaten to buckle at the view.Does the man not wear clothes at home?
Holy moly, nowthat’sa cannoli.
I tear my attention from the outline of a certain appendage swinging toward me and look down at my feet instead.
“Hey, Cobes,” Ford says.“June Bug.”
I gulp, forcing my gaze to his face.Sweat clings to his sandy brown hair.A bead glides from his temple and down to his chin as he stares at me with a knowing grin.Yeah, the man knows exactly how good he looks in this moment, and honestly, it isn’t fair.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it,” Cobie announces.“I’ll see you at the auction, June.”
“See you then,” I murmur.
As her bare feet scuff against the floor, the sound quieting with every step she takes further into the house and away from the front, Ford says, “Auction, huh?”He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.“You gonna bid on anyone?”
I paste on a fake smile.“Hardly.”
“Just going to support Violet, then?”he questions.
“And Cobie,” I return.“She asked me to volunteer, so…”
His brows hitch.“You’re volunteering?”
Why does the man have to look so shocked?
“Mm-hmm.”I shift my weight from one foot to the other, fighting the urge to run like hell.“Uh, here.”I shove the baby-sized loaf toward him.
He barely catches the wobbling bundle before it has a chance to fall to the ground.Curious, he glances up at me.“What’s this?”
“It’s a thank you,” I explain.“You know, for…helping me the other day.”His frown deepens.“I took my math test, and I’m pretty sure I aced it, or at the very least passed,” I clarify, “even though I haven’t technically gotten my grade for it, but, uh, I feel good, and I haven’t felt good after a math test since like, elementary school, so, thank you.”
Understanding flickers in his emerald eyes before he peers back at the ticking time bomb in his arms.Gently, he lifts the edge of the hand towel from the bundle, his brows pulled low.“Is this…?”
“Sourdough,” I explain.“It’s not a big deal.I had to make a loaf anyway, but?—”
His gaze flicks to mine.“Are you saying I’m holding Quasimodough’s offspring?”
My mouth twitches.Count on Ford to lighten the mood in a way only he can.I tuck my hair behind my ear.“The one and only.Quasimodough,” I clarify.“Technically, there’s been like fifty offspring.Some are loaves.Some are crackers or cookies or…you get the idea.”
“Quasimodough’s a busy girl,” he notes.
“Boy,” I correct him.“He’s definitely a boy.”
“A man after my own heart.”Amusement plays at the edge of his handsome mouth as he brings the bread to his nose and takes a small whiff, breathing in the tangy scent while his eyes hold mine.“And how does that work?”
“They’re like seahorses,” I blurt out.“Doing the heavy labor and all.”
The edge of his lips curves up even more, like he isn’t even trying to hide his mirth this time around.I guess it makes sense.This conversation is nothing short of ludicrous.“Good to know.Do you want to come in?Maybe have a slice?”
“No, I, uh,” I hook my thumb over my shoulder.“I have to get to work, but I figured I’d stop by and drop it off.Like I said, it’s nothing big, I just, I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t grateful for your help with everything.So.”I clear my throat and turn around, reaching for the door handle.
