“Am I flirting again?” I bat my eyelashes at him innocently. He scowls back with one eyebrow cocked.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re driving me crazy.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“I’m making some tea,” he says, pushing off the couch. He turns to face me. “Would you like any?”
I have two ways I can answer this. Right now, I’m thinking I should probably look away from the bulge in his pants that hits me at eye level. Mouth level really. Would I like some of what he’s hiding in those jeans? Yes, please. Do I want some tea? Whatever. Can I convince him to wrap a bow around that thing and call it my Christmas present?
“You’re not helping,” he growls again. My gaze drifts up to meet his stormy one.
“Yes?”
“How would you like it?”
“Excuse me?” He has to know what he’s doing, right? I mean, this is too easy.
“Do you want it plain, with something in it, over ice? I can probably find one of those old peppermint sticks if you want.”
“However you want to give it to me is fine.” I can actually feel my face heating.
Beau shakes his head as he walks into the kitchen. If I had said the same thing to Travis, it would have been an innocent conversation. Everything with Beau feels sexually charged. If the weather doesn’t break soon, I should be able to melt the snow with my oversexed mind.
“I’m giving it to you hot and steamy,” he says, setting a hot cup of tea on the coffee table several minutes later.
“Now I know you’re flirting with me.”
“Seems a little aggressive for flirting,” he points out. “You should probably slap me into next week.”
“Ooh, foreplay.” An unexpected laugh bursts from Beau. It makes me laugh with him.
“You’re a mess.” He picks up another DVD and waves it at me. “Die Hard?”
“Yippee-ki-yay, Mother?—”
“Harmony Ellis,” he admonishes. “And here I thought you were a good girl.” He winks, and if I was standing, my knees would have buckled. A wink, a smile, and a smart-ass remark? Who is this and what happened to the grouch I started with this morning?
“Define good.”
He shakes his head again before popping the movie into the old player. I hear him mumble something under his breath, but I can’t quite catch it.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask. He stands back up to his full height and turns slowly to face me. His gaze is intense as it meets mine. My breath hitches at the severity.
“I said,” he says just loud enough for me to have to lean toward him to hear. “You might need to be put over my knee.” Before I can even process how fun that could be, he walks into the kitchen.
“Hey, you’re going to miss the beginning,” I yell. “And that’s not all,” I mumble under my breath this time. “Lord, Harmony. He might have just melted all of your girly parts into a puddle.”
“Girly parts?” He’s standing in the door of the kitchen holding a bag of chips. There’s a knowing smile on his face.
“Like, uhh,” I stammer, trying hard to come up with anything other than my nether regions I could have been referring to.
“I know what girly parts are,” he answers, the smile turning into a shit-eating grin.
“I’m sure you do.”
“Chips?” He offers me the bag, and I snatch it from his hands. Digging a massive fistful out, I cram them all in my mouth at the same time. Now maybe nothing stupid can come out of my mouth.
He’s still watching me, but his face has morphed into something more like concern. I’m sure he’s preparing to Heimlich chips from my windpipe at any moment.
