His expression could only be described as suggestive. “You noticed.”
“Only because you’ve been wearing the same one since sixth grade.”
“Not true.” He pretended to look injured. “Seventh, maybe.”
Laughing, I navigated to the screen with a sample menu and was about to share my ideas when he stopped me.
“Like it?”
I turned my head from the computer to him, wondering if I should be honest or give him the kind of smart ass remark he’d give me.
“Yeah,” I said, choosing honesty.
Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds before I chickened out, afraid to hold his gaze, and turned my attention back to the laptop.
“What do you think?”
He scooted forward.
“That you did a lot of work while I slept in this morning.”
“It’s fun. I like planning events like this. Doesn’t feel like work.”
I tried not to notice the fact that he was leaning forward to see my laptop screen and only inches away from my face.
This is Beck. Get a grip.
“Definitely the pub burger since that’s our specialty. And I like the idea of loaded fries, especially the way Rick seasons them, but I don’t think they’ll be memorable enough. What about the bacon-wrapped jalapeño poppers instead?”
He was right. “Good idea.”
“And what the hell is tarte tatin?”
“It’s sort of a caramelized upside-down apple tart, served warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”
I picked up my coffee mug to distract myself from Beck’s nearness.
“Nice. Though I’m partial to whipped cream myself. Especially when it’s strategically applied.”
I choked, nearly spitting out my coffee.
“You okay? Need the Heimlich?”
Now I was choking and laughing at the same time and couldn’t catch my breath.
He picked up my phone from the table and pretended to talk on it. “Need an ambulance right away. My friend is suffering from an innuendo-induced choking fit.”
“Beck,” I managed. “Stop.”
“Yeah, a whipped cream one. Tragic. But honestly, not the worst way to go.”
My stomach actually began to hurt, I was laughing so hard, actually imagining an ambulance pulling up to my house.
Beck put the phone down and sat back in his chair, obviously pleased with himself for inciting me to laugh so hard.
“Should I keep going?”
“Please,” I begged him. “No.”
