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“Because.” When she makes a disgusted sound and turns her face away, I can’t control my building growl. “I was crazy about you, Naomi!”
chapterfive
Naomi
I sit on Avett’s stainless steel operating table, hugging my knees while he grabs a cloth and disinfectant and whatever other doctor stuff he needs. Neither of us has said a word since he shouted that he was crazy about me in high school.
My head is a whir of questions.
I’m not sure what his silence means, but Avett is suddenly a magnet, drawing my wary gaze with every concise movement he makes. The man is nothing if not orderly, all of Avett alwaysjust so. His beard is perfectly trimmed. His shirt still looks smooth and ironed. There’s no denying how fit his athletic build is from his regimented workouts—thick thighs filling out his slacks, a hint of pecs under his pressed shirt, wide shoulders, tapered waist.
Avett Lewis has grown into a handsome man, as well as a strictly regulated one. As bitter as our exchanges have been over the years, he’s no longer the type to lie.
Toomoral.Toostaunch.
As shocked as I am by his shouted confession, I have to believe I misunderstood that paper-bag insult, but it’s not the only time he’s said rude things about me, and I refuse to ask about last year’s party. He doesn’t need to know how much he affects me.
Still, there’s a change in the air around us. I mean, it smells like antiseptic and the dog treats around the clinic, but the annoyance I’m used to feeling is replaced with alertness.
He sets up a warm bowl of water beside me. “The disinfectant might sting a bit. Grip my arm if you need to.” His voice sounds deep and low. The opposite of his heated words outside.
Feeling fidgety, I lean back on my hands. “I’m tough. I can take it.”
“I have no doubt you could hold your own with the Rottweiler who nearly clawed my face off yesterday.”
I try to suppress my smile. An actualsmilearound Avett Lewis. “Glad to hear bribing that Rottweiler to maul you worked, except your face is still intact.”
He shakes his head, one corner of his lips curving up.
With a steady hand, he wets his cloth and presses it to my cut. I flinch at the contact, but the pain isn’t too bad. Being this close to Avett, however, is an issue.
I can’t help studying his masculine profile—the sharp edge of his bearded jaw, the slant of his prominent cheekbones, the slight bump on his nose from when he broke it. I can’t help how erratic my heart pumps, even though I barely tolerate this man.
When he reaches for the disinfectant, I tense. This is the stinging part.
“If you squeeze my arm,” he says gently, “your nails will dig through my shirt. It’s not a beheading, but it’ll hurt me.”
The urge to laugh rises, but I press my lips flat. “Are you always this much of a sweet talker?”
“You couldn’t handle my sweet talking,” he murmurs, and my core clenches.
First, he confesses he crushed on me in high school. Now he’s taking care of me, looking all kinds of handsome in his natural habitat, murmuring flirty words like some kind of romance hero.
Avett Lewis cannot murmur. He can’t rewrite our entire history in one night. “I’d bet your sweet talking is as bad as your ability to wait in lines.”
He huffs. “I have no issues with lines. I have issues with people who don’t move when they should.”
I try to smother my grin, but it’s no use. “You’re so easy to rile.”
“Maybe it’s just you.”
“What’s just me?”
“You, Naomi James, have always gotten under my skin.”
Our eyes lock. His pupils flare. Not in annoyance, as is our default setting. There’s no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the curious searching as his eyes roam my face. A tingling sensation starts at the edges of my belly, spreading toward the center.
What is happening right now?
