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“Your tip.” His pulse sped up, and his fingers itched to touch her hair. Even as messy as it was, it looked softer than any flower petal he could ever touch. “It’s a customary practice, and it’s the least I can do for upsetting you by winning. I didn’t peg you as a Pelicans fan.”
“I’m not.” She snorted and backed up again. “I love the Saviors.”
He lifted a brow. “But you wanted us to lose?”
“No, of course not. But I thought you would be out, and without you—” She broke off, shaking her head slightly. “Anyway…yeah…thank you for choosing Thomas Florist.”
She took one more step backward—which was a major mistake.
As she’d been busy telling him he sucked for winning, she hadn’t noticed how close she was to the vase behind her.
He had two choices as she stumbled into it and lost her balance. He could catch her…or the priceless vase that had been in the Hamilton family since the eighteenth century.
Moving quickly, he caught her arm and hauled her against his chest, sucking in a breath as all her curves melded into his hard muscles, making him question everything he’d ever thought about instant attraction and chemistry. She rested her hands on his shoulders, gasping in through her perfectly red lips as the vase crashed to the floor behind her.
Fisting his shirt, she lifted her chin, staring at him.
“Oh no,” she breathed.
He silently echoed her.
She was gorgeous. This close, the little dots of green in her blue eyes gave them an almost aqua appearance. Her hair touched his hand, and he confirmed that it was indeed as soft as he suspected. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” She lost her death grip on him. Glancing behind her, she groaned. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. What did I break?”
“Nothing. It’s fine,” he said quickly.
“I took off my glasses so I couldn’t see you laughing at me—”
“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, frowning. “Why would I laugh at you?”
“And now I can’t see a thing. The only reason I knew who you were was because everyone knows who you are, and you’re gorgeous and even cuter in person, which isn’t fair, but now I’m breaking shit, and singing horribly, and yelling at Wyatt Hamilton for winning and being amazing, and you’re touching me, and you’re amazing, and so frigging hot, and I need to shut up.”
His lips twitched. Her babbling was adorable, and quite frankly, she could carry on for as long as she wanted, as long as he got to hold her soft body against his while she did so. “I think you’re doing just fine. Keep going. How hot am I?”
“Oh my—” she said again, ro
lling her eyes and flipping her hair over her shoulder. She still didn’t move out of his arms. “Please tell me whatever just broke behind us isn’t valuable.”
He swallowed hard, lying through his teeth. “It wasn’t valuable.”
“Whew.” She craned her neck, glancing at it. “I can’t see. What is it?”
“Just an empty vase.”
She gasped again. She seemed to be big on that. Gasping. He’d rather make her gasp over something a hell of a lot naughtier than some broken glass on the floor. “No one puts an empty vase on a table by itself like that unless it’s valuable. How much do I owe you?”
He blinked. “Uh….”
“Tell me.” She stepped out of his arms, letting go of him instantly, and he did the same, even though he didn’t really want to. Something about having her in his arms had seemed nice. “How much?”
“I don’t want your money, ma’am.” He stepped back, curling his fists at his sides, and forced a smile. “It’s fine. An honest mistake. It could have happened to anyone.”
“How much?” she repeated, touching her sides where her pockets would have been, but coming up empty. “I can run out to my car and—”
“It’s fine. Like I said, I don’t want your money.” He dragged a hand through his hair and laughed. His phone lit up with a calendar reminder of his dinner with his possible investors, which immediately made his mood darken because he was going to have to go back to listening to that woman speak and failing to comprehend it. “But, hey, if you know someone who speaks Chinese, I’d gladly take them as repayment, though,” he said jokingly.
Half jokingly.
