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It was a joke, but he’s cute when he looks uncomfortable, especially when he rubs the back of his neck.
“How do you know?” I tease.
“This is not even remotely funny.” He crosses his arms over his chest, showing off the corded muscles in his forearms and the ink that travels under his sleeves. He tosses his head to remove a few unruly blonde strands off his forehead.
I lean against the doorjamb suggestively. “You were in a rock band. I’m sure sketchier things have happened,” I muse.
“I didn’t go around knocking up random women,” he says, clearly irritated.
I shrug defiantly, as if I don’t believe him. Just looking at him, if he was even a fraction as good looking when he was younger as he is now, no one would have stood a chance.
“If I were you, I’d be worried about getting fired on the first day.” He slides sideways past me through the doorway, our bodies almost touching, and heads back down the hall to the front of the store.
From behind him I say, “Not when my dad owns the place.”
He stops and spins around.
“You’re how old?” He assesses me from where I stand, his eyes roaming over my body and up to my face, and I swear my nipples harden. “Early twenties?” he ventures a guess.
“Almost twenty-four.” I square my shoulders as if that would make me appear older. For some reason twenty-four seems twice as old as twenty-three, even if that’s not logical.
“Twenty-three.” He levels me with that same steely stare that runs bone deep, making me shiver. “Then, not possible.”
Now I’m intrigued.
“How so?”
“Well, for one, I was going to college in Arizona around that time, and when I came out to L.A. I was too busy trying to survive on coffee and French fries,” he explains.
“French fries?” I ask, wondering what is so special about fries.
“They were cheap, and you could share,” he clarifies, and then disappears around the corner, leaving me wanting more information.
“And?” I prompt him, cocking an eyebrow.
“What do you mean, ‘and’?” I hear him grumble. “It’s not like I had access to a regular shower, so havingrelationswasn’t exactly on the menu.”
I imagine him using air quotes around the word ‘relations’.
“Relations?” I giggle uncontrollably while ripping open another box. “I’m not five! You can say the wordsex.”
“No.”
“Why not?” I huff.
“Because you’re my employee, and I don’t even know why we’re talking about this,” he says exasperatedly.
“You were trying to explain how it’s not possible that you’re my dad.”
“Stop saying that!” he gripes as he pops his head around the corner, meeting my gaze.
“Does it make youthatuncomfortable?” I laugh.
“Obviously.” He draws out the word and I can’t help but notice how his eyes drop to my lips, and I subconsciously lick them.
“Why?”
“Can you just finish going through the albums?” He motions for me to get back to work and to make him happy, I start on a new pile.
