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“Are you always like this?” he asks as I pull the elastic off my wrist and use it to pull my hair back.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Flustered.”
“Only when I get surprised.”
“Which seems to be often.”
“You’re the one sneaking up on me.”
He chuckles. “No. You’re the one not paying attention to what’s going on around you.”
“I was busy talking to the dogs.”
“Ah. Yes. I heard some of that.” His tone gets a touch lighter, like he’s amused.
Don’t smile at me, I think, as a bolt of fear—or something else, like attraction—dips through my core.
But then, he does. He smiles at me. “Teddy weddy? Must be a technical term. I’ve never heard of it.”
The smile creates a dimple in his cheek. The amused expression travels up to his eyes and pinches the corners. The scar on his temple makes him look rugged and interesting.
I wonder, for the hundredth time, how he got the scar. He’s always so tight-lipped about it on podcasts. Which is weird, since he seems to be an open book about so many other topics, like business, his worldview, and his dating life.
Now I’m just gazing at him. Thinking how hot he is. Wondering about his dating life.
Not good.
He’s so gorgeous that as I look at him, I nearly hyperventilate. No wonder he has hundreds of thousands of fans.
Nope.
I can’t just quit breathing right here in his entryway. I refuse to let this buzzed, giddy feeling get the best of me.
I fight the fangirl feeling off. Keep breathing. And say something to him. Anything.
“Teddy weddy is a highly technical term,” I manage with a mock-serious nod.
“Well, Mr. Brown seemed to know just what you were talking about.”
I reach down and scratch Mr. Brown beneath his chin again. “He knows the jargon. He shared his teddy, I told him he was a good boy.” Then I glance back up at Brock. “Glad I could amuse you.”
“How do you know I got a kick out of it?”
“Your voice. Your eyes, too. They got smiley.”
“Smiley eyes, hm? That another technical term?”
I nod. “Sure is. And you heard it here first.”
“I like it. Can I use it?”
“I haven’t copyrighted it or anything. It’s up for grabs.”
“If I use it, I’ll give you credit.”
“Oh… no. No thanks. I’m a shipping minion. No desire for fame or glory.”
