I shrug when she takes the bag from me. “Yeah, it’s your favorite Cowboy Burger. I thought you might be hungry.”

Her eyes soften as she looks from the bag to me. “Pax, this is so incredibly sweet.”

I grin and press a soft kiss on her cheek. “Anything for you, Hartford. You should know this by now.”

She stares at me, almost bewildered, and I smile.

Damn, this girl has no idea that she owns me.

But she will.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hartford

Throughout all the years I've known Paxton, never once has he surprised me with lunch. It's such a boyfriend-like gesture. It fills me with warmth, and I can't help but grin foolishly as I hold the bag of food.

"Wow, thank you. Mind if I chew your ear off while I munch?" I ask.

He nods and settles into the chair opposite my desk.

I sink back into my seat, then eagerly dive into the bag. "Aw, sweet potato fries too? You're too good."

The way Paxton’s studying me right now makes me nervous. Has he always looked at me like this?

Like he wants to unravel me?

“I know how much you like them.”

I pull out the contents of my bag, setting everything up. “Did you already eat?”

He nods. “Yeah. After this, I’m stopping by Moore’s Restaurant to see if they need anything for next week. They’re one of our first clients, so I want to take care of them.”

I nod, remembering how excited Paxton was to land their first client back when he started selling for Atta Boy. Before that, just like Brock, he was a cellarman, brewing beer and coming up with new flavors. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man love beer as much as Paxton. And not just drinking beer. No, he loves the complete process. From grain to glass.

“You’ll have to tell Willow I said hi.”

“I will.” He leans back in his chair as I savor my first bite. “What all do you have to do today?”

“I need to finish my article. That’s what I was working on before you arrived. The main components are going to be safety and ensuring consent before any of the fun activities ensue.”

“Yeah, safety’s a big one. I think my finger finally healed.” He stares down at his finger.

“I can’t believe you cut your finger,” I say, remembering the night it all happened.

He blushes slightly. “I was preoccupied. You were so hot in that outfit.”

“Maybe I’ll wear it again,” I say between bites of my burger. “Oh wait, you cut holes in it and ripped it off me.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

So there will be a next time, but then what? Do we go back to being friends? Do we continue to be friends with benefits?

That’s not what I want, and I need to tell him that.

I take a sip of my soda, but we’re interrupted by a knock at my door.

Phillip, a copy editor, peeks his head inside. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company. Hey, Pax.” Phillip pushes his glasses up his nose. “Was seeing if I could get started on your article. What time are you thinking you’ll be done?”