Page 60 of Under Pressure

She rolls her eyes. “I doubt there’s a woman alive who isn’t.”

I tighten my grip on the island so that I don’t round it and reach for her instead. She has no idea how much her

words mean to me or how desperately I needed to hear them. Other women’s attention means nothing to me now. It hasn’t since the moment I saw her again after all those years. Having her confirm that she’s attracted to me despite the glimpses of it I’ve seen as of late is a much-needed confidence boost.

The desire in my chest has gone from a spark to a raging inferno as I steady my breathing and watch her.

“I’ll figure it out with Logan. There won’t be any more surprises,” I promise.

For the first time since I got home, she relaxes. “Thank you.”

“And I meant what I said about dinner. I’m starving, and you’re going to eat, too.” I gather the crumpled menus again and resume looking through them. “Tell me about your day while we decide on what to order.”

“What happened to your offer to cook?”

“It expired, gorgeous.”

She snorts a laugh. “You didn’t warn me there was a time limit on it.”

I look up and wink, my chest growing tight when her mouth quirks in response. “Well, now you know for next time. So, do you like Thai?”

22

Beck devourshis double order of green curry while I poke at my cashew chicken and adjust the container so Bodi can’t dig his giant tongue into it from his spot beside me.

My brows knit together as I watch Beck hurry through his meal like he’s scared I’m going to reach across the couch and take it from him. My hatred of spicy food makes that impossible, but I don’t tell him that. It’s kind of fascinating, him like this. I can’t help but wonder how many people have been in this position with him and whether he minds adding me to that tally.

“Is your mouth not on fire?” I ask bluntly.

Green eyes flick my way, glimmering with humour. “Nah. I’ve had spicier.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever had Jamaican jerk chicken?”

I shake my head and pop a cashew into my mouth. “I’m a spice snob. I don’t like eating anything that makes my tongue or lips burn.”

“Noted. I’m the opposite, though. My mom used to put chilli flakes over almost every meal she made me before I moved out.”

“Callie’s kind of similar, but I don’t think anyone should be that obsessed with spice. It’s borderline psychotic.”

He chuckles under his breath before ingesting another mouthful of curry. “I’ll introduce myself as your friendly neighbourhood psycho from now on.”

“It would be fitting.”

“Nobody gives me as hard a time as you do, Quinny.”

It doesn’t sound as flirtatious as I would have thought. Instead, it’s thoughtful, more like a statement than anything else.

“That hasn’t seemed to deter you thus far.”

He watches me, his eyes so intense they may as well be stripping my skin off. “No, it hasn’t. It’s actually an enormous turn-on.”

“Being bullied turns you on?”

“You’re not bullying me,” he says with a strained laugh. “You just give me a hard time. I like it. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t hesitate to reem me out for something ridiculous I do or tell me off when I overstep.”

“Is that why you’ve been so adamant about going out with me?”