His brows furrow. “Excuse? What excuse?”
“Whatever bullshit you’re about to feed me about why you were a dick the other night with Warner. I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just go over these kitchen plans and keep it strictly business.”
His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening, jaw setting tight as he takes another step closer. I should move. Hell, I should run away.
I don’t.
Not even when Ezra leans in closer and says, “What if I don’t want it to be strictly business?”
A steadywhooshfills my ears as my heart rate climbs.
I draw in a deep breath, and I know right away it was a mistake.
Rain showers. Fresh evergreens. Soap. Ezra.
I exhale shakily. “Well, that’s too bad because that’s what it is.”
“Is it? Was it strictly business when you kissed me?”
Heat climbs up my cheeks at the memory of him pulling away from me. I’ve tried so hard to forget it, but it’s impossible, especially when I swear I keep seeing him looking at me like he did just before our lips touched.
Like he is now.
I drop my gaze back to the plans, but they just look like a jumbled mess. I can’t focus, and it’s all Ezra’s fault. He’s standing too close.
“I thought we decided we were going to forget that ever happened,” I say to the paper.
“No, that’s whatyoudecided. I remember distinctly saying that I didn’t want to forget.”
I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Just so we’re clear.
“Was it distinct? Because ever since then, you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Avoiding.” I dare a peek at him. “And torturing your employees.”
“Working,” he insists. “And disciplining them when they need it. When they’re being ... insubordinate.”
“We were just talking.”
His jaw tics. “You were flirting. On the clock, mind you.”
I tip my chin higher, meeting his heated stare head-on. “So what if we were? What’s the big deal, huh? Warner’s a nice guy. He’s funny and he’s sweet andcute.”
He is objectively good looking, but he does nothing for me. Ezra doesn’t need to know that, of course, especially not when it’s so obvious it riles him up. His eyes are practically black, his breaths coming in sharply, so I keep going.
“So who cares if I flirt with him? Or if I date him? Who cares if—”
“I do!” He takes another step closer, so damn close that he’s mere inches away, and I can see the freckles that line up just over the bridge of his nose. “I fucking care, Summer.”
“Why?” The words aren’t nearly as sharp as I intend them to be, and it has everything to do with our proximity. “Why do you care so much, Ezra?”
One.
Two.
Three.
