Page 11 of Working For Her Attention

“God, no.” She snorted adorably and bit down on that bottom lip that made me want to do it for her.

“What is it?” I asked. “What were you going to say?” I couldn’t help but press the issue. There wasn’t a thought in her head I didn’t want to know.

“How do you… never mind.” She smiled. “It was nothing. Kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Tell me.” I gently bumped my shoulder against hers. “Please?” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes, and that made her crack.

“I was going to tell you how I’ve never even had a boyfriend. I mean, I’ve gone on dates and stuff but…” She shrugged and a distant look filled her gaze. “Never a real boyfriend.” She shook it away.

“How is that possible?” I whispered out loud, unable to contain the thought to myself.

“It’s just…” The words lingered between us. “…never happened.” She made a face. “Now I’m a thirty-year-old single woman without even a pet.”

“I can fix that,” I offered. Her eyes, I swore to everything that’s holy, they sparkled.

“How?” She leaned closer just as I was shutting off the water.

“I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl and wait and see.” This made her laugh, and that blush I had fallen in love with returned before she looked away.

“So, I’m thirty, and you are…”

“You trying to find out how old I am, princess?”

“Maybe?” She shrugged. I stepped away from the sink, wiping my hands with a kitchen towel before placing it on the countertop.

“How old do you think I am?”

“Umm… not sure.” I stepped in between her legs and, to my surprise, she spread them, giving me space to accommodate my body.

“Older than thirty.”

“I kinda guessed,” she whispered. Her eyes dropped to my mouth, and my lips physically ached to press against hers. “How much older?”

“Enough to know better than being here with you without a chaperone.” She blinked and immediately fell into a fit of laughter. Her forehead pressed against my chest, and the sound hit me like a two-finger shot of aged bourbon. Warm and cozy.

“A chaperone?” She was still laughing when she pulled back to look up at me. Fuck! With the easy, carefree smile on her face, she looked even younger. Her hands stroked my chest. “Be careful, handsome, your age might be showing.”

“Chaperones are still a thing,” I muttered, but that just made her eyes brighten further. She pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh, but it ended up making a snort-type sound. “You making fun of me, little girl?”

“Tell me.” She did a better job of giving me puppy dog eyes, and I cracked. With my hands on her hips, I straightened and braced.

“Forty,” I laid out, and she just kept smiling.

“Ten years.”

“Ten years,” I repeated. “That a problem?”

“To being my neighbor? I don’t think so. Mrs. Blackstone next door is way older than forty, and she’s okay living on the block.”

“Smartass,” I murmured, cupping her face, then I leaned down to press my forehead against hers. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm…” The sound vibrated through my chest, and her eyes turned a little glassy, almost hooded, as we stared at one another. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.” It was an offer, but we both knew my tone was more than demanding.

“I wish I could but…” She shrugged, once again avoiding eye contact. “I shouldn’t,” she said but didn’t sound like she was happy

“Why?”