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“Why are you doing that?” He frowns.
“Doing what?”
“Smiling like you’re in pain.”
“Oh.” I relax my lips, mortified. “Sorry.”
“You have a pretty smile, when you don’t…” He waves a hand in front of his face and snaps his teeth at me. “Do that.”
I’m going to kill Bry for this. And aw, he likes my smile.
“So, uh…” He rakes his hand through his hair, shoving it off his face. “I should be going. Be late for work.”
“Yeah.” I sip more coffee and burn my mouth, spew some coffee on his white shirt.
Oops.
He doesn’t notice. He’s looking around, distracted. “Jet not in yet?”
“No.” I discreetly try to wipe the coffee off his sleeve, but I only manage to smear it more.
Shit.
“We had a great time with you on Saturday,” he says.
“Oh yeah, me too. Loved the banana pancakes. With the…” He’s looking at me, his blue eyes darkening. “The bananas. And syrup. Um…”
He grins, as if seeing something he likes in my expression. I probably look like a deer in headlights. Figures he’d like it.
Oh God…
Then he leans closer and brushes his mouth over mine. “Don’t be a stranger,” he whispers and leaves me with my fingers on my mouth and my coffee on his shirt.
The door slams behind him.
Too late.
***
Jethro comes in right before Donna and shoots me a brilliant smile before heading off to the display he’d been setting up on Friday. He disappears behind a shelf.
His phone rings a moment later, and I try not to eavesdrop, but all my attention is on him right now, so yeah. I admit defeat.
“Hey, dude. At the shop, where else?” I hold my breath, leaning against the shelf behind his. “No, why?” A pause. A shuffle. “Okay, let me spell this out for you, mate. No, I didn’t spill coffee on your shirt. When would I do that, in my sleep? The fuck’s wrong with you?”
Oh crap. I slap a hand over my mouth, muffling a gasp.
“What was that? Yeah, I saw her.” He moves something on the shelf, and I take a step back. “Yeah, I noticed her skirt, and her legs, dude. Am I blind? Yeah, she looks sexy, and yeah I’m rocking a boner. Satisfied?”
Oh my God. I look down at the skirt I threw on this morning and my All-Stars and shake my head. Is he talking about me?
“No, she didn’t say anything about Saturday. No, man, I haven’t talked to her yet. Relax, okay? What’s up with you today? Woke up with a hard-on for a repeat of Saturday?” He chuckles, and my toes curl in my shoes at the low sound. “I know. Me too.”
He is talking about me. Ohgodohgodohgod. I grip the shelf and all but poke my head through the books to the other side to hear better.
And the books slide as the shelf rocks from my weight and drop on the other side.
On top of Jethro.
