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He slipped his arms–yeah, they were corded and toned too–through the t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tugging it down over his body, where it barely fit.
“Eyes up here,” he murmured, his voice deep and rumbly.
I flicked my gaze up to his instantly, just as I had the last time he’d said that to me, but I hadn’t been entranced by the sliver of skin that was still exposed between the hem of the t-shirt and the top of his jeans. Now, it was hard to stare at anything else.
Gah!
I could feel my cheeks burning and I glanced quickly away, biting my lip. I’d been ogling him, like a huge slab of meat.
Long fingers lifted my chin back up.
The look in his dark eyes when mine met his didn’t show anger. Little crinkles formed at the corners. He was smiling at me. Me!
The woman who’d–
“The spill,” he said. “It’s over. I got a cool new shirt out of it.” He tugged at the cotton that stretched taut over his abs, at least a size too small. I doubted Eve carried lumberjack-size. The pink color only amplified his manliness.
His grin was lethal. So was the rest of him. Tanned, toned and totally hot. A giant.
He made my brain short circuit and I opened and closed my mouth a few times. “I–” I had no idea what to say.
He was trying to reassure me, which I wasn’t used to. He was being nice. And he called me baby. Of course he called me an endearment. He didn’t know my name.
It was probably how he kept all the women who threw themselves at him–or threw coffee on him–happy without having to remember their names. An easy way not to mess up. That made the most sense, him calling every woman he encountered the same thing.
“Sit with me?” he asked.
Sit with him? What?
“Come on.” He snagged my hand in his big one and pulled me over to the table where I abandoned my work papers. I settled onto a stool and he sat across from me, never letting go of my hand. His was like a dinner plate, mine lost in his hold. The touch was warm. Gentle. His fingers offered mine a small squeeze.
I processed all this as I stared at it in his–his left that didn’t have a ring–then thought… HE’S HOLDING MY HAND!
Chill, Bridge.
I pulled it away, tucked it into my lap so I didn't reach out and run my fingers through his dark hair. Threads of gray at the temples caught the sunlight through the window, an indication he was older than me. By a lot. Late thirties, probably.
“I’ll be right back.”
Before I could question what he meant, he took three big steps and grabbed his coffee from the high counter, then the plated cinnamon roll–with a fork poked into the frosting–Eve held out for him. Her smile was a little too big and a little too bright, proving that he could strike all women dumb.
Eve was my friend since 4H back in second grade. We knew each other well although I couldn’t miss her response to him since she fanned herself behind his back. I totally agreed. He could melt any woman’s hard drive.
“Work problems?” he asked once seated, eyes on my papers. They were an amalgamation of invoices, scribbled notes, jotted math workings and blueprint printouts.
So many problems. Like my dumbass boss, Jason, who couldn’t use a calculator. That would involve work and he didn’t like to do it. So as his assistant, I did it for him. When I started back in the winter, I’d just moved back and was desperate for a job.
“I figured it out,” I replied neutrally. Unlike my inability to hold a glass of iced coffee, my job wasn’t his problem. I didn’t need to dump anything else on him.
“I heard you doing some math,” he mentioned, pulling the fork from his cinnamon roll like he was Arthur pulling the sword from the cream cheese frosting covered stone.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his comment. I was used to being made fun of for what some considered a strange talent. Ever since I was little and advanced math couldn’t challenge me. I considered it normal, although I was far from that. The nerdy girl. The brainiac. “Heard? My brain isn’t that loud.”
A slow smile crept across his face and my mind blanked. His good looks actually made me stupid.
“I’m impressed.”
I shrugged and stood, not interested in being considered a sideshow for him. That happened to me enough without it being done by the most handsome man I’d ever seen. It was only even more insulting.
