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“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“Cleaning up the mess you made.”
Her gaze flickers over my abs before following the angled muscles that disappear beneath the band of my jeans.
“Still unimpressed?”
She squints. “Even more so now that I got a better look.”
“You’ve always been a lousy liar.”
“And you’ve always been a terrible flirt.”
“You’ve got something…” I swipe at the corner of her mouth with the pad of my thumb. Her sharp inhale is loud enough to be heard over the rapid beat of my heart.
She tilts her head back, giving me a better look at her hooded eyes.
My fingers tingle as I clasp her chin and lean in until our lips hover a few centimeters apart. “For someone intent on acting like she doesn’t find me attractive, you desperately look like you want to be kissed.”
Her eyes snap open as she shoves me away. “God! I can’t stand you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
She tosses a dish towel at me. I catch it a second before it lands in the puddle forming by our feet.
“I’m going to grab a bag of rice to soak our phones, and the mop to clean up this mess,” she announces with flushed cheeks.
“That’s a good idea after how you drooled all over the floor.” I smirk.
You’re playing with fire, my head warns.
Wrong. I’m playing with something far more dangerous.
Dahlia Isabella Muñoz.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dahlia
When Julian texted me a few days ago to schedule a walk-through of the Founder’s house, I thought he meant I would be meeting with his team to check out the work that needed to be done and compile a list of all our pending tasks.
Instead, I’m surprised to find Luis Senior’s old pickup truck parked in the driveway and Julian standing on the ornate wraparound porch. He leans against one of the intricately carved beams that support the fish-scale shingled ceiling above his head.
“I thought the McLaren was fixed?” I ask.
“It is, but there is no way I’m driving that car during the winter, especially not after our little incident.” He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his slacks.
I am quickly distracted by the mansion. It looks so muchgrander in the daylight, with turrets shooting toward the sky and a west-wing tower that is so tall, it casts a large shadow across the lawn. The stained-glass window above the door and the colorful yet faded paint scheme add a personal touch.
The home is stunning, regardless of the obvious neglect and lack of upkeep. I’m overwhelmed by ideas of how I could update the exterior—
“Dahlia.”
I look up to find Julian staring at me with a strange expression. “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Ryder and the crew are dealing with a septic tank that burst at one of our sites.”
My nose twitches. “Gross.”
