I shake my indecent thought of Travis spanking me away and concentrate on him standing in front of me now. “I’m sorry I’minterrupting you again. Maybe I can join your workout?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
“You are not wearing workout clothes,” he points out flatly, totally ignoring my advances. He is playing hard to get, and I like the challenge.
“I could go naked.” I wink and shrug my shoulders.
“That would not be very functional,” he replies, making me laugh again.
He is so funny.
“I guess it wouldn’t be, but I would still enjoy it.”
“I doubt that,” he quips before finally snatching the box from my hand. “Thank you for these. You can go now.”
He takes a step back, ready to close the door in my face. I take a step toward him in return, ready to dash past him and into the house.
“I guess you would be eager to get back to your workout. I read about your disciplined nature in a newspaper article,” I admit unashamedly.
His eyebrow arches. “You looked me up?”
“I did. I wanted to know who my new neighbor is,” I explain without missing a beat.
“Well, you are right. I’m very disciplined, especially when it comes to my schedule, and answering the door isn’t on it. So why don’t you go back to your cabin now so I can continue my workout?”
“Is that poison ivy on your face?” I ask, desperately trying to change the subject. “You know, I fell into poison ivy once while trying to go pee. I squatted right into it without realizing what it was. Had a rash just like that, but on my butt.” I giggle. Now, thinking back on it, the story is kind of funny. “Anyways ... why don’t I help you with a cold compress?”
Before he has a chance to answer, I swoop past him and dash into the house.
“Ugh, not again,” Travis murmurs under his breath as I make my way toward the kitchen triumphantly. He follows with a grunt.
“Have you tried an oatmeal paste for your rash?” I ask as I walk around his counters. “Do you have any oatmeal? I can make you some.” I open what I assume is the pantry door and have a peek inside.
“I don’t have any oatmeal,” Travis tells me, annoyance dripping from his voice. He places the box of cookies on the counter.
“Okay, I’ll just make you a cold compress,” I announce before grabbing a kitchen towel hanging over the oven handle.
“That’s not necessary,” Travis assures me, but I ignore him and step in front of the sink to run cold water over the towel. After it’s soaked, I wring it out and fold it into a thick square.
When I turn around, Travis is standing a few feet away from me, his arms folded in front of his chest again while his eyes stare daggers at me. I close the distance between us and bring the damp towel to his cheek. He pulls away at first, but once I press the compress against his skin, he stills.
His face relaxes, his frown evening out, and a hint of a smile plays on his lips ... lips that I am very aware of, standing so close to him. God, I want to kiss those lips so badly. I wonder how they would feel pressed to mine. What would he taste like?
“This actually feels nice. It helps with the itching,” Travis admits, his voice even and smooth.
I smile at him, enjoying the moment. We just stand there, looking at each other for a few seconds. I could stay like this forever, gazing into his dark-brown eyes while my hand is pressed against his cheek, his body heat seeping through the towel.
“How long are you staying in the area?” he suddenly asks.
“Longer than I had planned,” I answer vaguely, on purpose. “I might stay indefinitely if someone plays their cards right.” I drop my voice an octave to sound seductive.
His gaze intensifies, like he is trying to figure out what I’m saying. So I’m making it very clear to him. Raising my free arm, I gently place my hand on his biceps. Travis’s posture goes rigid, as if he is surprised by me touching him like this.
I let my palm rest against his warm skin, feeling an electric current running between us. His eyes lower to where I am touching him, and he looks as if he is trying to figure out if he likes this or not.
Another moment passes before his gaze snaps back up to mine. “You should go now. I’m very busy, and I need to get back on schedule.”
Disappointment and rejection hit me all at once. I pull my hand from his arm, immediately missing the connection.
I pull the towel away from his face, too, inspecting the rash again. “It didn’t get you too bad, but it still sucks. I hope the itching isn’t too terrible. You can put this in the freezer, too, get it super cold,” I suggest, holding out the towel to him.
