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"Point taken, smartass," he chuckles. "I'll be here." His gaze runs down my body. "Especially if I get to see you in a sexy little apron."
I try to ignore the heated look and his teasing comment. Calm down, ovaries. He probably flirts with everyone like this.
If I keep telling myself the same thing, maybe it'll sink in, and my heart won't turn flips every time he says something flirty to me. He looks like a Greek God, for crying out loud. I highly doubt the thought of me in an apron excites him.
I don't lack confidence, but I'm not delusional, either. Men who look like him date supermodels, not plus-size baristas with zero dating history and overprotective older brothers. That's simply the way the world works.
"What kind of favor do you owe my brother?" I ask after he demolishes the last two scones on the plate. He eats like my brother…which is to say like a bottomless pit. It happens when you spend half of every day working out or skating.
"Who says I owe your brother a favor?" He pops his thumb into his mouth, licking off icing.
My stomach clenches. I want to be that thumb right now…
"You're here doing his dirty work, aren't you?" I gather up our containers, trying not to think about his thumb or his mouth or the way my clit throbs faintly. Sweet baby Jesus, have mercy. I may kill my brother for this alone.
"There's nothing dirty about it." He smirks, watching as I shove the containers into the takeout bag on the table where he moved us to eat. "Not yet anyway, but we can certainly arrange that if dirty is what you want."
"My point is," I say loudly, ignoring his offer. "You're willingly offering to get up at four in the morning to watch me bake in the tiniest kitchen known to mankind. Seems to me if you don't owe Nash, you're insane."
"I'm always up early."
I make a sound in the back of my throat. He may be up early, but I doubt he's making a habit of watching women bake at four in the morning. He gets up early because his job demands it.
"Maybe I have a thing for his sister," he says.
"And maybe it's time for you to go home."
He reaches out, snagging my wrist as soon as I stand up. Before I can pull away, he's reeling me toward him around the side of the small table. I end up pressed up against his thigh, staring into his eyes. My heart pounds against my ribcage. I feel it in my throat, pulsing wildly.
His eyes are so damn green, and he is so damn handsome. Good grief. Standing next to him really is like standing next to a god. Only he's far too corporeal and real to be some ethereal entity. His body feels like a furnace against mine. He smells like pine soap and the sweet treat he just ate.
He tips my head down with a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I fight like hell not to get lost in his eyes. Fight like hell to remember that Nash sent him here. Except I don't want to remember it in this moment. I want to throw caution to the wind and kiss this man.
"Why is it so hard for you to believe I have a thing for you?" he asks, searching my face.
Because I've been dreaming about you for years.
Because you may be the only person on the planet capable of crushing my heart.
Because I'm not nearly as brave as I look.
All three are equally true, but I don't voice any of those truths. I give voice only to the fourth, equally valid reason he makes me nervous as hell.
"Because I know my brother," I mutter. "Nash never gives up when he wants something. And I know how much he wants me back home." He's only been trying since the moment I moved to Silver Spoon Falls.
"Maybe he's changed his mind."
"If you believe that, then you don't know my brother very well."
"People change."
"Nash isn't people. He's Nash. He wants you to help convince me to go home."
Noah doesn't deny it. I think we both know he can't.
I duck under his arm, putting space between us. "Like I told you this morning, you can save yourself the trouble and just tell him that you're checking in. I won't tell him any different. But I'm not going home, and I don't need you in my space, trying to sway me to the Darkside."
"If you think you're getting rid of me that easily, think again," he calls softly. "I'm not going anywhere until I convince you that I'm right where I want to be."
