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He grabs the cup before I drop it to the floor, handsome face scrunched up in concern. “You okay?”
“Burnth my thongue.” I wave my burnt hand up and down. “Thit.”
“Thit?”
I swallow, blink back tears and sigh as the pain slowly subsides. “Shit.”
He chuckles. I love the sound of his chuckle, low and deep, like thick, dark chocolate dripping on my skin. “Shall I bring you some water?”
“I’m fine.”
And he’s still there, still close enough to touch, to smell, and—oh God, he reaches for my face and cups my cheek in his big hand.
“I like you, Candy.”
“You do?”
I take a moment to pinch myself and ow, that’ll leave a bruise.
“Uh huh.” He steps even closer, and I’m wrapped up in his boy scent, his musk overlayed with a light aftershave of pine and citrus.
Yummy.
“I like you, too,” I whisper, wondering when the lights will come back on and someone will yell, “Cut! It’s a wrap!”
“Well, ride me into the sunset,” Joel mutters, his grin tipping up on one side, his dimple winking at me.
“I so totally would.”
Another flash of darkness goes through his gaze. His hand is still on my face, and his thumb is stroking my cheekbone, back and forth, back and forth.
“What are you doing to me?” His voice has dropped more, so deep I feel it vibrate under my skin. “I love this shirt you have on today.”
Low-cut shirt, mini skirt, boots. The works. Brylee would be so proud. My chest flushes when his eyes dip low.
“Thanks.”
“Did you wear these for me?”
“It’s for VIV.”
He looks up from my chest, dark brows drawing together. “VIV?”
“Very Important Visitors.”
“Am I very important?”
I gulp. “Anyone who brings me coffee is important.”
“Even when it burns you?”
“It’s not fun if it doesn’t burn a little,” I whisper back.
He makes a sound deep in his throat, like a strangled groan. “Fuck, you’re driving me mad. One moment you’re funny, the next hot. The hottest bookseller I’ve ever met.”
Met a lot of booksellers? I want to ask, but he’s walking me backward toward the shelves. He puts down my coffee on the counter, then we’re ensconced between two tall shelves, and he’s pressing me against the Children Books section.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, his arms bracketing my body, gripping the shelves on either side of me, trapping me.
