Page 14 of A Different Kind of Hooker

“Maybe this is the part where you turn on the chat feature, and then maybe some of your viewers might have an idea,” he said, trying his best to make me seem smarter than I really was.

“Oh, they’ll have ideas, I’m sure,” I snorted.

My entire body stilled when I felt Heron reach out, wrap his arm around my waist, then lean down to place a kiss on the top of my head.

What.

The.

Hell?

“Life is a learning curve, Eliza,” he said, his hand running up and down my hip. “People know that and understand that.”

Even though I was very aware that my camera was still on and that we were still live, my lady bits wanted nothing more than to jump this man’s bones. Not only was he hot as fucking hell, but he was sweet, kind, and I couldn’t remember the last time that a man had his hand on my hips. I could actually feel myself getting warm, and I knew for a fact that the oven was off.

“Uhm, you do know that you’re giving our viewers the wrong idea, right?” I asked, needing to focus. Whatever Heron Treyton was doing, I needed him to spell it out for me. I wasn’t good with subtle hints, especially when delivered by the opposite sex.

“And what wrong idea would that be?” he asked, a bit of mirth in his voice.

I looked up at him. “That we’re dating,” I answered, not afraid of awkwardness. “I mean, you’ve been calling me baby all evening, and your hand on my hip is kind of…suggesting things.”

Heron smirked. “But not the kiss on your head?”

“A kiss on the head or forehead could equal sister or grandmother or something like that,” I pointed out. “Baby and a hand on my hip do not suggest sister or grandmother or something like that.”

“Depends on what part of the US you live in,” he quipped, making my eyes widen.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” I choked out, trying not to laugh.

“It’s called a joke, baby,” he said, removing his hand from my person. “If someone gets offended, I’ll take total blame.”

I scowled. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Heron pulled out his phone. “We’ll save the world another day,” he said. “Right now, I’m going to search ideas for transferring the cupcakes in one piece.”

I placed a hand on my hip. “So, you’re just going to avoid the dating elephant that I brought into the room?”

His green eyes peered down at me. “I’m not avoiding it,” he claimed. “Let them think that we’re dating. Since I plan to keep calling you baby, and since I plan on inviting you to my next rugby match, I’d say that it’s a pretty safe assumption to believe that we’re dating.”

“Is that how you ask all women out on a date?” I asked. “I’m genuinely curious.”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘p’. “That’s how I askyou.”

“Is that why you offered to come on my show? To ask me out on a date?”

“I got it,” he said, ignoring my question. “It says to make sure we get a box that’s not already put together. We can slide the front flap underneath the cupcakes, then push them forward before building the box completely.”

“What if I’m busy?” I posed. “What if I have important things to do during your next match?”

“Then you can go to the one after that,” he answered easily. “So, do you have any baker boxes?”

I sighed. “No. I never thought I’d actually make something that people could eat without endangering their lives.”

Heron’s lips thinned in an effort not to laugh at me. “Okay, well…how about we store them in the fridge, and then I can come by tomorrow and pick them up?”

My brows furrowed in confusion. “Pick them up for what?”

“My teammates, of course.”

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