Page 27 of Hex Appeal

Really like him.

Well, shit.

“Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.” I hop off the bar stool and give Valerie a little wave. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“You’ll see.” I roll my eyes when he remains firmly planted in his seat. “I promise, I’m not leading you off into my dungeon.”

His dark brow shoots up. “Do you have a dungeon?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I smirk. “Come on.”

When he still doesn’t move, I grab his hand to pull him to his feet.

I ignore the jolt of electricity that shoots through me as his work-hardened palm presses against mine.

“Come on,” I repeat. “There’s only one way to prove I’m not doing anything to my candles to make them start any of those fires.”

Welles groans, but he doesn’t drag his feet as I pull him out of the public part of the first floor and toward my production studio.

It’s a small victory, but I take it.

I reluctantly release his hand to push open the fire-rated door and flip on the light.

Unlike the public rooms, there’s nothing particularly enchanting about my workspace. Stainless steel worktables. Shelves of supplies. Pouring equipment. Boxes of empty vessels. Everything has its place.

Welles looks around.

I can practically see the fire chief taking over again.

“What are we doing?”

Instead of answering, I grab one of the black aprons hanging beside the door.

“Come here.”

He eyes me warily but steps closer.

I slip the apron over his head.

I have to reach higher than expected.

Which brings me closer than expected.

His chest is right there.

His very broad, very solid chest.

For a second, I forget what I'm doing.

Then he looks down at me.

Right.

Apron.

I step behind him to tie it around his waist.