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Dylan brushes his fingers over mine as he reaches for another chip. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. I catch his gaze, my cheeks warming.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. Is that a hint of pink on his cheeks?
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear self-consciously. “No problem.”
His eyes follow the movement, lingering on my mouth. I swipe my lower lip nervously with my tongue. Dylan's throat bobs as he swallows.
The urge to reach out and brush away a stray crumb clinging to his stubbled cheek nearly overwhelms me. I clench my fist in my lap until my nails bite my palm.
I slide Dylan’s portion across to him when he finishes eating his sandwich. “It was chocolate or red velvet. I took a guess.” I fold my arms self-consciously when he doesn’t immediately reach for it. “What, you aren't a fan of cupcakes?”
“Are you kidding? My sweet tooth is legendary.” Dylan snags the package with a grin. “I can’t believe Gemma Caldwell brought me a cupcake.”
I roll my eyes, the quip easing my nerves. “Yes, well, don’t get used to Royal Treatment. I expect you back to infuriating self in no time.”
Dylan winks. “I’ll do my best, Princess.” But there’s no malice in the nickname.
Heat rises in my cheeks that has nothing to do with the food. I grab my soda and chug, hoping the fizz will extinguish the flutters taking wing in my stomach.
When I finally set the can down, Dylan is watching me curiously. I clear my throat, casting about for some way to break the suddenly heavy tension.
“Tell me about yourself,” I say. “I know so little about the man who's always two steps behind me.”
Dylan quirks a tawny brow. “Trying to gather intel on the enemy now, eh Princess?”
I fling a potato chip at him, which he deftly catches in his mouth. “Come on. I’m being serious!” I protest through my laughter.
“Not much to tell, honestly,” Dylan replies after chewing. “I grew up in a small town. I come from a military family and joined the military after graduating. Been focused on that ever since, until an injury forced me out. This job with your family is my shot at a new start.”
He says it matter-of-factly, but I hear the wistfulness in his voice. The toll ending a career prematurely takes on a person. My heart aches for what he's lost.
“Well, you're damn good at it,” I say with a smile. “Even if I haven't made things easy for you.”
“That's an understatement.” He grins and nudges my foot under the table. The contact sends a jolt up my leg.
“What about you?” he asks. “Tell me something I don't know yet.”
I tap my chin thoughtfully, buying time to rein in my hammering pulse. “I love horses. I even wanted to be a rodeo queen when I was little.”
Dylan's laugh echoes off the study room walls. “No way! Do you even know how to ride a horse?”
“I'll have you know I was the equestrian champion at summer camp three years running.”
His eyes dance, crinkling irresistibly at the corners. “Well, I'll be damned! We got ourselves a genuine cowgirl here.” His playful drawl sends delicious shivers skating down my spine.
“Don’t mock me, it was my childhood dream!” I protest through my giggles. Reaching across the table, I swat his shoulder. The contact sizzles through me like a bolt of electricity.
Our laughter dies away slowly, eyes caught on one another in the intimate hush that descends. The undercurrent of awareness charging the scant air between us is undeniable now.
I wet my suddenly dry lips with the tip of my tongue.
Dylan follows the movement with hooded eyes. “Gemma—” he says roughly.
As if pulled by some invisible force, Dylan moves closer. My lips part in anticipation and I sway toward him involuntarily. All I can think about is how badly I want to taste those full lips barely inches from my own.
Oh god, if he doesn't kiss me right now, I swear I’ll combust.
Some rational part of my brain warns this is dangerous, but the rest of me is tired of being rational. Before I can overthink it, I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull his mouth down to mine.
