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I faced him and crossed my arms. “Who said I was apologizing?”
The side of his mouth kicked up into a half-smile. “You did when you were standing outside my door looking like a creeper and holding a tin of baked goodies.” He reached forward and retrieved another cookie to make his point.
I shot up from my reclined position. “I was not looking like a...a ‘creeper.’ You act as if you caught me peeping in your windows or something. I rang the bell, like a normal human. I was leaving when you came roaring down the street in your obnoxiously loud car.”
Emilio laughed. Deep, rich, and hard. A laugh that should have pissed me off, but instead rolled over me like warm caramel. Damn it, how did he manage to annoy and yet put me at ease all at the same time?
“Relax, Ma. Have a cookie. It’ll make you feel better.” He leaned closer and licked his lips. “Unless you want to work out some of that stress some other way.”
Gracious be, he was close. And tempting. His mouth. Yes! Everything in me screamed yes, but I refused to give him the satisfaction. I moved forward. His smile broadened. I licked my lips. His Adam’s apple bobbled. Closer.
“A cookie will do.” I smiled as I leaned back with my prize in hand.
Confusion sparkled in his dark eyes before amusement took over. “Suit yourself, Ma.”
I chomped down on my treat but didn’t taste any of the sweet goodness. It was a poor substitution for what I actually wanted.
“How’s your computer?”
“It’s good. And I brought an external hard drive thingy to back up stuff.”
He chuckled under his breath and took a swig from his beer. “‘Thingy’ that’s…” He stopped talking when he saw the frown on my face. Emilio cleared his throat. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“Why? Another excuse to get me over here?”
He arched a brow. “Hate to break it to you, Ma, but I’ve not had to use a single excuse. You’ve come knockin’ at my door all on your own.”
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. Damn if I didn’t walk right into that. “I guess you’d be correct there.”
“You guess? Damn, Ma. What do you do?”
“Huh?”
“That job you stressed that some people had.”
I inwardly cringed remembering that statement. “Oh...um I’m an Accounts Payable Manager. Why?”
“Cuz, I’m trying to figure out what in your daily life makes it so hard to admit when you’re wrong.”
Once again his offhand comment flamed my indignation. “I wasn’t wrong.”
He stood and grabbed both empty beer bottles. “Well, you sure as hell wasn’t right. Want another?”
I pressed my palms against my eyes and shook my head. The heat creeping up my neck let me know that it was probably bright red, a shining beacon of my frustration. I’d come over here to apologize and being around him threw all those intentions out the window.
Pushing off the couch, I ambled down the hall for a goodbye and to go home before I shoved my other foot into my mouth. “So...enjoy your cookies, I’m going to head out.”
Emilio shut the fridge door and turned. “Running out before I get my apology.”
“Why are you hung up on that?”
“Why are you avoiding it?”
“I’m not.”
He placed the bottle on the counter then hopped up and took a seat. “You are, but it’s okay, Ma. Your secret is safe with me.” He winked before picking up his beer and taking a drink.
I rolled my eyes at the continued use of the freaking moniker he insisted on calling me, and stepped forward, challenging his nonsensical statement. “What secret?”
