"TheleastI can do?" He scoffs, a small twitch lifting the corner of his mouth as he tries to stop himself from smiling. Suddenly I have a great urge to become the reason this man smiles every day.
"Yes! The least," I say, chuckling before taking in a deep breath. "Justoneteeny tiny bite and I’ll leave you be. It'll make me a very happy woman."
His eyes flash as they meet mine, and I’m quick to imagine some of theotherways he could make me happy. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Fine,” he mutters, taking an unsure step forward. “One bite.”
“Just one,” I say, lifting the brownie again.
He sucks in his cheeks, glances at the brownie, then at me, before taking a hesitant bite from the corner.
“Now chase it with some coffee,” I say as he finishes chewing, bouncing on my toes gleefully as he nods like maybe my coffee and his cousin-in-law’s brownies go hand in hand. “It’s good, right?”
He lowers his mug and bounces a shoulder, and it’s then that I notice some frosting has made its way onto his well-kept beard.
“Oops. You’ve got a little…” I touch the corner of my mouth, but before he even registers what I mean, I act on instinct and reach out, wiping the edge of his mouth and beard free of chocolate frosting with my thumb. “Frosting in your beard.” I show him my frosted finger, and he grunts before stepping back and swiping a hand across his beard like maybe my touch just burned him.
“No point wasting good frosting,” I say, to lighten the mood before I lift my finger to my mouth and suck the frosting free. His eyes widen, moving to my finger, then to my mouth and back up again. The tension in the air ramps up to a ten, and I push it to an eleven by licking my lips while he’s watching. “Sweet.”
A rumble seems to come from deep within him as he watches my movement. A fizzle starts to form within my belly, and I want nothing more than to smear frosting all over that rock-hard chest of his and find out how good he tastes.
"No. It'stoosweet," he grumbles, breaking me out of my fantasy as fast as it emerged. “And we’ve got work to do.” With the mood shifted, he places his semi-full mug on the table and stomps his way over to the cabin. “Come on, sunshine. I didn’t come here to watch you paint and eat brownies all day.”
“Yes, sir!” I say, biting back my grin as I hurry after him and wonder if it’s odd that I’m equally cautious and turned on by him at the same time. I don’t know what it is about Dylan, but he seems to press all of my buttons in a way I never knew they could be pushed. Things are definitely starting to get interesting in my new home of Whisper Valley.
Dylan
Igrunt as I tug another rotten board off the porch and toss it into the mountainous pile of rotted wood on the front lawn. This cabin has been sitting here empty since I moved up here over a decade ago, and I don’t know how long it was empty before then. But it’s safe to say it’s been abandoned for some time. It baffles me that Millie looked at this place and decided restoring it was the best option. If it were me buying this place, I’d have knocked the whole thing down and started from scratch. As it is—with the growing pile of rotting boards—we’ll likely replace every single piece of wood in this place, anyway.
"Ready for a lunch break?" Millie asks, pulling off her gloves to wipe the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. in a huff. "I’m already beat."
“Already?” I look along the length of the porch, noting we’re less than halfway through the demolition phase. “And you thought you could do this all on your own. You’ll be livin’ out of that camper for years if we keep stoppin’ every five minutes for food.”
“I get cranky if I get hungry,” she says with a slight pout, then she bounces her shoulder as she rests her weight against one of the exposed beams. “Probably why I’ll never be a runway model, huh?”
“Runway models are overrated,” I say, wedging a crowbar under the next plank along and levering out the nails. “Never had any interest in a woman with no curves.”
“When you say curves,” she starts, crossing her legs and positioning both hands on the edge of her knee. “How manyexactlyare we talking about?”
Is she flirting with me?As I toss the wood on the pile, I let my eyes wander over the length of her, starting from the toe of her boot, dangling in the air from her crossed legs, all the way up her shapely calves, thick thighs, round hip, belly and bust until they land lips. I'm immediately taken back to the frosting incident from earlier and my vision clouds. I can still feel the softness of her finger grazing my mouth to clean the frosting from my beard. When she held it up, it took everything I had not to reach out and suck the sweetness off her finger. She’s sunshine and temptation all wrapped up together in a perfectly sized package. Fifteen years ago, I’d have chased her down until she begged to be mine. But these days, well, I know I don’t deserve her. She’s far too good for the likes of me.
“You want me to give you a specific number?" I grunt, trying to continue working while standing so the evidence of my body’s reaction to her isn’t obvious.
"I don’t know about anumber.But maybe just give me a shape.” My brow shoots sky high and she giggles. “You know what I mean—like how they describe women’s body as an apple or a pear or hourglass shape. Which one of those do you think is ideal?”
“The one with the most meat on it,” I retort. “Ain’t no sense in huggin’ a bundle of sticks when you can curl up with a bag of flour…if you catch my drift.”
I glance up at her and her smile gets wider. “I think I do. The bigger the better, huh?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. As long as a woman is healthy, round, and happy, we’ll get along just fine.”
“Guess that’s why we get along so well then, huh?” She grins and swings her foot back and forth, pushing out her chest in an obvious way that tells me she’s one hundred percent flirting with me right now.Shit.
“How old are you, sunshine?” I ask, pulling my filthy gloves from my hands before I run a hand over my sweaty face, pushing it back through my already soaked hair.
“Twenty-four.”
I huff out a breath as the gnawing sensation that’s been sitting in my gut and doubting Jade and Kellen’s soulwink suggestion blooms into full-blown knowledge—this issonot happening. “Twenty-four?” I shake my head. “Jesus Christ. You’re a baby.”
