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“It’s a clean bowl. You need water. I have water right here. You’ve already lost your argument, haven’t you?”
He opened his mouth, then let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.
Beth’s throat went dry, and she had the sudden urge to drain the bowl of water herself.
Eli Murphy was handsome. Some might even say hot. But ever since she stepped—or nearly fell—out of his truck, she’d forced her initial reaction to him into a nice little inaccessible corner of her mind. Why?
Because you were too busy hating being here and somehow blaming him for it.
She growled at the voice in her head.
“What was that?” Eli asked.
Beth cleared her throat. “Nothing. Just… Bottoms up, Doc!” She offered him the bowl, both hands extended.
“Are you always this bossy with your employers?” Eli asked with a lopsided grin.
Okay, now Beth was feeling her own version of hot. Like, the kind of hot that also came with bothered.
Cool off. Cool off. Cool off, stupid neglected libido. The man was in crisis, and all she could think was how good he looked—well—crisis-ing.
Eli reached for the bowl, and his fingertips overlapped with hers as they made the exchange. They stayed that way—the bowl in both of their palms—for several seconds longer than necessary.
His eyes locked on hers, and he held her there, staring, waiting.
One second was all it took for this sort of handoff. Maybe less. But this moment felt like it didn’t want to end. Right. The moment didn’t want to end. Because if Beth was the one extending this…this…fingers-touching-fingers thing…
“Um…” Eli said. “Are you gonna let me have it?”
Beth yanked her hands away, then watched in what felt like slow motion as water sloshed over the lip of the bowl and onto Eli’s jeans. Yep. She let him have it all right.
“Oh my god!” she cried. “I’m so sorry!”
Eli glanced down at the wet spot blooming on his thigh, and on instinct, Beth began patting and rubbing the area with her bare palm.
“It’s not that bad,” she continued. “I mean, it wasn’t the whole bowl, right?” She continued to pat and rub, pat and rub, as the dark area of denim spread farther and her palm crept up his thigh.
Oh. My. God.
Her hand stilled, and with her heart and dignity in her throat, she tilted her head up, her eyes finally meeting his.
Bright blue irises darkened to something unreadable.
Anger?
Confusion?
Desire?
No. That third one was all Beth, and she had zero right to desire her new boss, let alone rub her palm up his freaking thigh!
Eli held the bowl high above both of their heads. He lowered it slowly, bringing it to his lips and downing what was left in one messy gulp.
“You should go,” he said, his voice strained again. Water trickled from the corner of his mouth. He glanced down to where her hand still rested on his inner thigh.
Oh. My. God. Again!
She snatched her hand back. Heat pulsed through her palm, and she pressed it to her chest, willing this strange feeling away.
