Page 15 of Win a Date with a Baker

It’s like someone lit a match and dragged it over my skin.

I clear my throat and subtly shift my stance, trying very hard not to think about exactly where my blood has decided to migrate.

“They’re not thirst traps,” I say, sounding far less convincing than I’d like.

“They’re product placement promotions.”

“Product placement promotions?” She snorts. “That’s an awfully fancy way of describing a thirst trap.”

My irritation spikes.

Again.

I can’t decide whether I want to argue with her...or kiss her until she stops talking.

I clear my throat.

“It’s not like I took my shirt off.”

“You might as well have.”

I blink. “What does that even mean?”

She leans against the prep table, clearly enjoying my confusion.

“I’m saying your sister may as well have posted videos of you shirtless.”

She chuckles. “I’m pretty sure your bare chest is every bit as distracting as those...” she lets her eyes flick down briefly, “...slutty little forearms.”

I choke.

She smiles far too innocently while I cough into my fist.

When I finally recover enough oxygen to function, I stare at her. “Did you just say...” Another cough. “… ‘slutty little forearms?’”

“I sure as hell did.”

She reaches out and lightly trails one fingertip along the flour dusting my forearm. Every muscle in my body locks.

Heat races up my arm with embarrassing speed.

I swallow. Hard.

Fuck me.

I need to catch a coherent thought. Instead, all I can think about is how soft her hand felt.

She smiles like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

I force myself to take a step back. Just enough to prove I still possess some control over my own body.

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “You’ve successfully derailed the conversation.”

Her mouth curves.

“Have I?”

“Yes.”