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Now it’s his turn to gasp. “You’ve been holding out rations on me?”
“You’ve been holding out bonfire views.” I haven’t even told him about the bathroom yet. Which, come to think of it, I should have. I’d hate for him to designate a pee corner.
We glare at each other for long seconds. It takes all my power not to slip and grin.
“Twenty minutes in enemy territory each?” he asks.
“Fifteen.”
He holds out a hand. “Done.”
I shake it, and a fresh burst of heat shoots through me from his palm. “Done.”
I quickly drop his hand and stride toward his side of the windows. He doesn’t waste time disappearing into the librarians’ lounge.
Once I reach the window closest to the bonfire, I lean as far as I can over the wide window ledge to see it. Squinting, I can just barely see people milling about the large pile of wood. It looks like they lit it about twenty minutes ago, which means it should be perfect by sunset.
I narrow my eyes even more. Is that Molly huddled up next to Mr. Matthews? No. It can’t be. I need a better look.
My feet slip, trying to find traction while I push myself closer to the window over the high, wide ledge.
Who decided to make these ledges so tall and wide? Besides architecture, what possible purpose could it serve but to make non-tall people like me have to work to look out.
“Here.” Zack suddenly reappears at my side.
“Let me help.” He steps forward and places his hands on my hips.
A jolt of electricity shoots from his hands up my spine and I instinctively step away.
Shocked by my physical reaction to his touch, I go on the defensive. “What the hell was that?”
“I was going to give you a boost up.”
“Why?”
“So you can see better.” His brow furrows. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, just a little too fast. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because your face is looking a little flushed.” He lifts his hand. Before I can step away, he presses the back of his hand to my forehead. “You feel a little warm, but I don’t think you have a fever.”
I jump on that excuse. “I am a little warm. There isn’t a lot of air circulation in here.”
“I know what you mean. I worked up a bit of a sweat trying to open up the windows earlier.”
Visions of Zack working up a sweat flash through my head like a flip book.
Zack chasing a ball back and forth across the tennis court in white shorts that show off his calves and thighs.
Zack running on a treadmill and lifting the hem of his tank top to wipe his face. Flashing his rock-hard abs.
Zack rolling up his sleeves to do something helpful, like hang that painting I’ve been meaning to display in my dining room.
What is it about a guy and his forearms that’s so… sexy? Something about the way they roll up their sleeves does something for me. Maybe it’s the way it makes them look like they’re so in charge. Like, “I’m here to conquer.”
I shiver.
Before he can question my health again, I say, “Just a little chill. Probably from overheating without the air.”
