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“You don’t play fair.” He huffs.
“I never said I did.” I tap his chest with the utensil, getting pancake batter on his white t-shirt.
“Now look what you’ve done.” He gestures to the smear on his shirt. “Just remember, you brought this on yourself.” In one quick sweep, he pulls his shirt off.
I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but it doesn’t stop my eyes from bulging at the sight of him. His body is ridiculous. It’s like he was sculpted from stone or something.
Before I can react, he steps toward me, backing me into the counter so that I’m trapped.
“Now who’s not playing fair?” I look up at him, trying to anticipate his next move.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He leans in close. So close that I can feel his breath as it dances across my lips.
“Your pancakes are going to burn,” I remind him for a second time.
“Then.” His lips brush mine and electricity shoots through every limb of my body. “Don’t.” He kisses me, soft and teasing. “Take.” Another kiss. “My.” His hand slides along mine. “Spatula.” He rips the utensil away and immediately steps back.
I feel the loss of his heat everywhere.
“You’re evil,” I tell him, not able to contain the smile that spreads across my mouth.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” he taunts, turning back to the stove. He quickly flips the pancakes, whistling to himself as he does.
I’ve half a mind to give him a taste of his own medicine, but as my fingertips graze the hem of my tank top I chicken out. I don’t know why. I want him and I’m pretty sure he wants me. Besides, I do have a bet to win...
Before the thought can really take hold, Harris slides the pan off the burner and drops the two final pancakes onto the already large stack he’s made.
He looks extremely pleased with himself as he turns, plate in hand, and presents me with the pancakes.
“Breakfast is ready.” He gives me a toothy grin.
——
“So, I was thinking.” Harris sets his empty plate on the coffee table. “There’s a food truck rally going on today downtown. If you’re not busy maybe we could head over and check it out.”
“How can you even think about food right now?” I groan, sliding my hands across my too full belly.
“Well it’s not until like four. I’m sure you’ll be hungry again by then. I’ve seen how you eat.”
“Hey.” I pick up a throw pillow and toss it at him. “Are you calling me fat?”
“You are not even close to fat.” He gives me a knowing look. “I’m honestly not sure where you put all of it.” He gestures to my body. “What do you say?” He tacks on when I make no attempt to respond. “You, me, and all the food trucks your heart desires.”
“I don’t know.” I hesitate, the cautious side of me, the side that’s still not sure that I can trust him or that I even want to, rears her ugly head.
“Oh come on. It’ll be fun. There will be alcohol and live music.” He pouts out his lower lip. “Please.”
“Is that supposed to somehow convince me?” I point to his mouth.
“I think so?” His tone is questioning. “Truthfully I’m new to this whole begging thing.”
“You could use some practice.”
“And something tells me that you’ll be more than happy to give it to me.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“I could help you out I guess.” I bite down on my bottom lip to try to contain my smile.
“Fine. How’s this.” He slides off the couch and shuffles toward me on his knees. Settling between my legs, he takes my hands in his and pulls me forward so that I’m sitting completely upright. “Blue Daniels, will you please,please, go to the food truck rally with me today?” He bats his lashes like a teenage girl and I all but crumble into a fit of giggles.
