Page 33 of Big Girl Panties

"Well, you look like you lost a fight with a bag of flour." I grabbed a paper towel. "Which is embarrassing, considering flour doesn't usually fight back."

"Hey, that flour came out of nowhere. Sneak attack." He grinned, white powder still dusting his eyebrows. "Good thing my wrestling opponents can't see me now, there goes my intimidation factor."

"Oh, I don't know. The Flour Phantom has a nice ring to it."

I turned to grab a paper towel, and he laughed. "What?" I flicked a glance over my shoulder and realized what he was looking at… my ass. My hands dropped to my butt, but his large fingers wrapped around my wrist. "What is it?"

"My handprints," Matt murmured, his voice low and rough. His thumbs ghosted over the pulse point in my wrist. I bit my lip, fighting a shiver.

My shoulders sagged with relief. His hands had been covered in flour, and I wore black leggings. I hated that my mind always tended to dwell on the worst-case scenario. I had no reason to think he was laughing at me or mocking me, and yet that was where my mind always went. "I like them there."

I ducked my head, feeling the warmth creep up my neck and flood my cheeks. His gentle grip on my wrist sent sparks dancing along my skin as he turned me to face him. My gaze lifted, slowly meeting his, and my chest rose and fell with deep breaths as something electric passed between us. Heat billowed through me as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face and sliding it behind my ear.

I cleared my throat. "You, uh, were saying something about your brother."

"Right." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving flour streaks like war paint. "My brother is having a cookout tonight, and he invited me and you to come."

"He invited me specifically?"

He nodded. "I may have told him about you."

"You told your brother about me?" I couldn't hide the shock on my face.

"You seem surprised."

"I guess I am," I smiled softly. "We just met and…"

"I like you," he said. "I know you need some time because you just got out of a really bad marriage. I know you need reassurance that I really do like you. I'm willing to wait, and I am going to prove to you that I am not him."

My eyes went suspiciously misty, probably from the pollen, definitely not from the way Matt was looking at me like I was the last cupcake at a bake sale. I blinked furiously, because crying in front of a guy this gorgeous would violate at least three of my post-divorce rules.

Matt stood there with his annoyingly perfect jawline and those stupid, kind eyes that made me want to melt, like actually melt into them. How was it possible that someone who looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover was interested in me, a woman who'd recently had a fifteen-minute argument with her cat and lost?

The little voice in my head, which sounded suspiciously like my father, whispered that I was going to mess this up. That the woman I'd become after the divorce, the one who ate cereal for dinner and talked to her houseplants, would somehow sabotage this beautiful, terrifying possibility standing right in front of me.

But then Matt smiled that crooked smile that made my stomach do little somersaults, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, I deserved something good.

"I would love to meet your brother," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

"Yeah?" I nodded. "Okay, then, let's get these cookies done."

We worked together for the next hour and a half. Each time Matt's arm brushed mine, a jolt of electricity raced through me. His flirtatious smiles made my stomach flutter, and every accidental touch left me craving more. But with each moment of connection, I felt myself teetering on a cliff, the exhilaration of falling, fighting the paralyzing fear of hitting the ground.

Chapter 13

The Great Dress Debate…

Standing outside Brooke's apartment door, I practiced my casual yet devastatingly charming pose for the third time when voices drifted through the thin walls. One was definitely Brooke, but the other sounded like a caffeinated life coach.

"Brooke," the woman's voice cut through the air, sharp but tinged with affection. "You look hot. If you weren't straight, I'd totally f…"

"Do not finish that sentence."

"It's true."

"I'm not going," Brooke said, and my mind flashed back to the night she was supposed to go to my wrestling match.

"You have to stop this," the woman sighed. "You are self-sabotaging."