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But she should know me better than that.
I pull the chair out for her. “I don’t mind. I like cake.”
“I’ll go and grab the samples,” Mrs. Wilson says, leaving the two of us alone in a staring match.
Becky narrows her eyes, clearly exasperated with me.
Well, that makes two of us, Red.
“Shouldn’t you be avoiding sweets?” She takes a seat, making a point of sliding her own chair closer to the table. “You know, so you can stay in shape?”
Stubborn woman.
I wait for her to glance back at me before quirking my brow at her. “Worried about me, Red?”
Those hazel eyes flash angrily, and I know I hit a nerve. “Don’t call me that.”
Two can play this game, sweetheart.
“It’s off-season.” I shrug nonchalantly, sliding into the chair next to hers. “Besides, it’s not like a little bit of cake will hurt anybody.”
I lean back in my chair, sliding my hand over my flat stomach. My finger slips under the hem of my shirt, tugging it upward and revealing my abs.
Rebecca’s gaze zeroes in on my movements, her eyes trailing my arm and locking on the patch of revealed skin. My stomach tightens as the warmth spreads through me, her fixation almost like a physical touch.
Almost, but not quite.
“See something you like?” I ask, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
The color spreading over her cheeks turns brighter at being caught staring.
“As if,” she scoffs, looking away.
“Mhmm, totally imagining things.”
Her lips press in a tight line, and I swear I can hear her grind her teeth, which only makes my smile widen.
“Besides, I’m the best man. It feels like it’s my duty to give my opinion on the cake if the bride and groom can’t be here. It seems only fair.”
Just then, Mrs. Wilson joins us, a tray with plates filled with different kinds of cakes in her hands. I flash her my most charming smile. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Wilson?”
The older woman blushes visibly. “Of course! More opinions are definitely welcome.”
I turn to Becky, who’s throwing daggers at me. “See?”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mrs. Wilson puts the tray on the table in front of us. There are half a dozen plates, all with a single slice of cake on top of them, a couple of forks, and glasses of water. “Okay, here are some of the flavors I discussed with Kate and Emmett when they were here last time. Take your time trying them out, and I’ll be back in a bit.”
Rebecca opens her mouth as if she wants to protest, but just then, the door chimes as another customer walks in. Pressing her lips together, she glances at me, and we just stare at one another for a moment.
Blinking, she ducks her head, breaking the contact. Her hair falls in her face, shielding it from my gaze, and my hand itches to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. To feel that silkiness between my fingers once again, wrap it around my wrist as I…
Donotgo there.
I clench my fist, my nails biting into my palms.
“I guess we should get to tasting,” Becky murmurs, utterly ignorant of the thoughts swirling inside my head. Maybe it’s better that way. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t like them one bit.
