He licks his lips, then his gaze meets mine.
And like I just mentioned, my heart starts to race, and my mouth goes dry.
The timer in the kitchen buzzes.
“Oh, shoot!” I drop my bags, breaking whatever spell has begun to take place in the doorway of Simon’s house.
I rush down the hall and pull dinner out of the oven.
Simon steps into the space, and I don’t have to look at him to know that whatever tension was beginning to form in the other room has followed us into this one.
I set the chicken rice and broccoli casserole on the counter and chance a glance at Simon.
He isn’t trying to hide his intensity.
Maybe this is the look Grey was talking about?
To be honest, Simon could either be really mad right now or extremely turned on. I hope it’s the latter. At the same time, I hope it’s not. Thinking of my neighbor and best friend’s brother as anything other than the grumpy guy who lives next door with the cute kid is a bad, bad idea.
Bad.
He steps toward me.
But he’s… never been hard on the eyes, and right now, I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous with a guy.
“Five minutes,” I blurt out and back up, bumping into the refrigerator. “Give it five minutes to cool, and then you can eat.”
He keeps moving toward me, and I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me… I mean, hell, the slow stalk, never taking his eyes off me—it all screamshe’s going to kiss you.But no, he just reaches around me to open the fridge and pull out a vitamin water.
“I can wait five minutes,” he says and winks at me.
What the heck?
“Oh, it smells so good in here,” Grey says, walking in with a big smile. “Are you actually going to stay this time, Greer?”
“I can’t.” I totally could, but not after whatever the hell just happened with Simon. Can one touch, maybe two, and my little lace reveal really put that much tension between two people?
“You should stay,” Simon says, pulling plates from the cabinet.
“I should not,” I reply and clap my hands. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“Night, Greer!” Grey calls as I head out the front. I grab my bags off the floor and then book it from the house without looking back. I’m not letting the doorway thing happen tonight—no siree, I am not.
I’m almost at my front door.
“Greer,” Simon calls. This time, he’s on the corner of his porch, arms crossed as he leans against it.
Jesus. I have been helping him for one week. One week. Why is this happening to me?
“Did you get a new car?” he asks after I don’t say anything.
The question, however, makes me smile and relax. I nod with pride.
“I sure did.”
“I like it. Maybe next week you can take Grey and me on a drive, and we can treat you to dinner to celebrate.”
“Really?”
