Page 58 of Big Dill

“You worried about what she might say?”

“Not really.”

I look down, suddenly unsure of myself, and he reaches out, tipping my chin up until I meet his eyes.

“You know,” he says, “I remember a lot about that night.”

“Like what I said to you?” I challenge.

“That’s right.”

I put one hand on my hip, all the while trying not to notice his closeness, his overwhelming presence and how that near kiss from earlier is still messing with me. “Still not going to tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Still annoying, then.”

When was the last time I’d taken a breath?

“We’ve established that.” His fingers brush lightly through my hair and that’s when I inhale. What is going on here? “We’ve also established that I’m a lumber-snack.”

My whole body shivers. He leans into me, his eyes darkening, and my legs go weak. Is he going to kiss me again? If he does, this time, there’s no way I’ll be able to find my words, this time…I don’t want to.

He’s seconds away—seconds—from kissing me when my phone pings, snapping reality back into place.

I glance down, my body quaking, on fire. “Liam,” I say, my voice rough, edgy, but not because of the man texting me.

Brody snorts and steps back. “That didn’t take long.”

I work to keep my hands from shaking as I tuck my phone away. “I don’t know why a guy like him would be interested in me. He’s got it all together, and I…” My voice trails off before I can finish the thought.

Anger flashes across Brody’s face so fast it startles me. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jami?”

My head snaps back. “What?”

“He’d be lucky…” he begins, voice rough, jaw tight, “…to be with someone like you.”

I blink once. Twice. My pulse kicks up. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? That I should consider him. “Do you think I should⁠—”

“No.” He cuts me off hard, dragging a hand through his hair and gripping it like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “I don’t fucking think you should do anything with that man.”

My heart stutters, heat rushing through me at the hungry, possessive way he’s looking at me. It lands low in my belly, dangerous and intoxicating. But…

We can’t.

So I do what I always do when things tip toward the edge—I go for humor. I reach out and tap his chest lightly. Bad call. The moment my palm meets him, I feel it—his heart slamming beneath my hand, fast and hard and completely unrestrained. My breath catches. My gaze drops, traitorously taking in the way his body is betraying him, too.

Yeah. Big mistake.

Big dill.

“You know,” I manage, forcing the words past a suddenly tight throat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

He steps into me, decisively, erasing every inch of space between us. His body is solid and warm and unmistakably there, stealing the air from my lungs like it belongs to him now.

“So what if I am.”

The words hang between us—half challenge, half confession. I lift my eyes to his, dark and intense, searching my face.