Page 86 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“I swear I’m not.”

“You are absolutely making that up.”

He leans forward slightly. “I can produce witnesses.”

There’s something intoxicating about the way he watches me laugh.

At one point, our hands brush reaching for the same piece of bread.

Neither of us pulls away immediately.

His fingers are warm. Rough from work.

My pulse jumps.

He glances down at our hands, then back up at me.

“You gonna fight me for it?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You look like you would.”

A slow smile curves his mouth. “Only if it was worth it.”

The way he says it makes heat bloom low in my stomach.

I like him.

That’s the part that’s simple.

I like how cool he is. How he doesn’t fill silence with noise. How he listens because my words matter. How he doesn’t try to drag stories out of me that I’m not ready to give.

When Devon clears our plates, he asks if we want dessert.

Fletcher looks at me.

I hesitate.

Because dessert feels like an extension, choosing to remain.

“Yes,” I say.

Chocolate cake.

Of course.

When Devon leaves again, Fletcher leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he says.

“About what?”

“Me working with Wayne.”

I sigh. “Am I that obvious?”