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I mourn the loss of him briefly, careful not to let him see. “Yeah. I never turn down cupcakes.”
“I can’t believe you got this.” He sets them down on the kitchen counter and opens the package. “How are we going to eat a dozen of these?”
“Well, not with that attitude you won’t.” I grab one and peel back the wrapper, indulging in a delicious bite of buttercream frosting and chocolate cake. “Damn, that’s good,” I mumble, spraying crumbs everywhere. Oops.
His brows knit with concern, but there’s amusement in his gaze, too. “You’ve got some frosting… here.”
He reaches forward and thumbs away a dollop from the corner of my mouth, licking it off his finger.
My belly dips low, eyes widening. Did he do that to be sexy? Because if he did, it worked.
We stare at each other for a moment, until he finally says, “Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
I want to tell him that I liked it. That I want him to do it again. That he could use his tongue next time.
Oh, God. I’m awful.
“No, it’s fine.” I set the rest of my cupcake down and take off my jacket, suddenly warm. “So, do you have a start date for the new job?”
He tells me about his plans to put in notice at his current job and go to the tournament this weekend as a cornerman.
“And what’s that?”
“It’s like a coach during a fight. I psych them up, preparing them mentally and physically. Create a strategy for them once we discover who their opponent is. Motivate them between rounds, give tactical advice. That kind of stuff.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be great. You’ve been an amazing coach to me during our self-defense training.”
“Yeah, but that’s just messing around. This is professional, you know?”
I gaze up at him, taking in the sudden worry on his face. “Why do you doubt yourself?”
“I’m not, I…” He scrapes a hand through his hair, the artfully messy waves falling back into place. How does it naturally do that?
He doesn’t finish his thought, so I add to mine instead. “You hardly ever talk about yourself unless I prompt it. You never accept compliments. You should give yourself more credit.”
He nods, looking down as he fiddles with my discarded cupcake wrapper on the counter. “The stuff I do, what I’m good at… it’s not anywhere on your level.”
I squint at him. “Didn’t I tell you the other day that importance is in the eye of the beholder?”
He lets out a brief chuckle of acknowledgment. “You know, I did one more thing today, too.”
“Yeah?”
“I told my dad I don’t want to go pro.”
My brows pop up. “Really?”
He nods. “The stuff you said the other night… I had to act on it. I couldn’t let it go on any longer.”
I reach out and give his arm a squeeze. Purely for congratulatory purposes, of course. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure it was difficult.”
“Once I started actually telling him, it was the easiest thing in the world.”
“What’d he say?”
He winces sheepishly. “I kind of hung up on him before he could say anything.”
“He didn’t call you back?”
