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I reluctantly sit beside him and inspect the plaster.
“My chest hair is stuck to it.”
“Then you’ll get a free wax,” I tease, my lips quirking up into a smile as his face lights up with amusement. His familiar grin sends warmth throughout my body. The moment my fingers contact his skin and pull on the tip of the plaster, a soft hiss leaves his mouth. To distract him from the pain, I keep talking.
“You were right about Chantel. She became downright sugar-sweet when I told her that the launch is at Six-Pack.”
He grunts in reply as I keep carefully peeling the plaster away from his skin. He winces as I make contact with his tender flesh and then inhales sharply when I finally rip it off.
“Jesus, FUCK.” His face contorts in pain, but a moment later, he cracks a smile as he looks up at me and says, “My hero.”
I blush but shoot back with some lighthearted teasing, “Yeah, yeah, crybaby.”
His attention darts to the wound.
“Does it hurt?” I ask as my hand brushes over the tenderness of the surgical incision and surrounding areas.
He winces slightly. “Not really. But the annoying stiffness in my shoulder and neck muscles is downright exhausting.”
Without missing a beat, my hand moves to his collarbone, gently rubbing small, soothing circles over the tense area. His eyes close and his chest visibly relaxes, letting out a long exhale with each rotation of my fingertips. “Amanda…” he mumbles.
“Shh… just enjoy this moment,” I whisper back, continuing the slow massage up his neck with featherlight motions.
He sinks further into comfort and murmurs in blissful appreciation, “God, your fingers are magical.”
My lips curl, but my heart is dangling on dangerous territory. This man has such a profound effect on me. The attraction I sense when I’m near him is palpable in every fiber of my being. It’s like drinking a cocktail of emotions. Every sip is different and can stir up another mixture of emotions. I never know what will happen with him, and it’s exciting and scary at the same time. He can make me want to slap him one moment and kiss him the next. My eyes land on his mouth.Kiss.How would his lips feel against mine?
I pull myself out of my wandering thoughts and look at him as a blond lock falls over his forehead, making him look like a golden god. My fingers itch to touch it, and I’m about to when a knock on the door prevents me, and I rise instead. Brian doesn’t react. He’s fallen asleep.
A smiling delivery man holds up a white bag with the name Thai Mi. “Order for Mr. Fox.”
The spicy scent coming my way makes my mouth water. “Yes, thank you.” I take the bag and close the door, placing it on the kitchen’s island top moments later. I peek inside and a fragrance that’s a combo of fried egg and spicy peppers hits me. Thai food. Yum. My favorite. My attention falls on the picture of hearts and colorful drinks hanging on one of his cabinets. Oh, he hung up Charlotte’s picture. That is so sweet. She adores him, and he’s a natural with her. He’ll make a great dad someday.
“Hey...” Brian says, walking in with a yawn. “Sorry for dozing off.”
“You clearly needed the rest.”
He grabs a hoodie draped on the backend of a chair and puts it on—at least he tries. My first instinct is to help when I see him struggling, but I stop myself. If he needs help, he will have to ask me. He’s a proud man who values his independence, so even if it’s hard to watch him get frustrated, it’s something I need to learn.
“Where are your plates?” I ask.
“The second cabinet on the left.”
I bite my lips when he lets out a painful hiss, struggling to get his arm through one of the sleeves.Don’t help. I set the table to prevent myself from stepping in. Sketches with different layouts of what I believe will be the runway for the models lie next to Six-Pack’s blueprints. I peek over my shoulder. “You did this?”
He nods and comes my way with the food. “I had some ideas and put pen to paper.”
We open the baskets, and the smell and sight of Pad-Thai, fresh rolls, and a yellow curry make my stomach growl like a grumpy bear.
“Oh God. I’m starving. Shall we grab a bite while we hash out these papers?” I suggest, tapping the table.
“Absolutely.” He beams, stretching his neck and rubbing his hands together. “I feel good as new after that massage.”
Not wanting him to catch me blushing, I look away.
For hours, we chat away, bouncing ideas back and forth, finding new angles and solutions that had managed to escape us earlier. Brian is an attentive listener, and I feel a profound sense of ease when I’m with him.
I check my watch. “It’s past ten. I think we’ve covered everything we can.”
