Page 15 of Romancing the Rude Guy

He reaches behind him and rustles in his backpack, pulling out a box and offering it to me.

“I got this for you,” he says gruffly.

Taking it from him, I recognize what it is right away and turn the box over in my hands, reading the description and details eagerly. I saw these in the stores and thought about buying one but dismissed it as too frivolous a purchase.

“I just thought…” he trails off, his eyes darting to the side. “Look, if you don’t like it, it’s no big deal.”

My eyes snap to him. “I love it. Thank you!”

I don’t think, I just act, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning down to hug him. His warmth and the hard strength of his body immediately sets my heart pounding.

His hands go around my waist and for a moment he holds me, his head pressed against my chest. His mouth is so close to where my nipple is pebbled and straining against the material of my bra that a rush of heat flares low in my belly. I imagine I can feel his warm breath through my shirt, and I have to hold back a moan.

All too soon, he releases me and reluctantly I pull back. “Thank you. We’ll have to build this together sometime,” I say shyly.

His lips are pressed in a hard, thin line as he gives a curt nod before reversing slightly and then veering around me.

I stand in the middle of the walkway, clutching the Porsche building block kit in my hands, and watch him wheeling away.

How can a man confuse and captivate me all at the same time?

CHAPTER EIGHT

ALICE

On Wednesday, I bring a generous wedge of strawberry pie to share. It’s not the neatest dessert, but it’s my favorite. Plus, I got lucky and scored a prime quart of strawberries. Besides missing the warm weather, the lack of good strawberries also bums me out. And now I have another reason to dislike the rapidly cooling temperatures. It will mean an end to my lunches in the park and meeting up with Marcus here.

When I walk to the bench, we met at last week, he’s already there sitting and waiting for me. He’s dressed in a long-sleeved dark forest green polo shirt and faded blue jeans. His wide shoulders and broad chest are so powerful that it makes his lower body look undersized by comparison.

A flush rises on my cheeks as I wonder what he looks like under those clothes. I’ve never been with a man with a physical disability before. Over the weekend, I looked at a few things online and they left me with more questions.

Is Marcus even capable of having sex?

And if he’s not, how do I feel about that?

Seeing the bright smile on his face at my approach, a pang of desire pulls at me. Oh, I hope sex isn’t out of the question because I want Marcus.

It should embarrass me how much I’m attracted to him, but instead I keep hearing grammy’s words about him being my match echoing in my head. If he really is my match, it makes sense to be so drawn to the moody man.

Though I do have to question how Grammy Brooke came to that conclusion about a man she never even met!

Striding up to Marcus, I answer his smile with one of my own and plop down on the bench next to him. Sitting far closer than the last time we sat together. My thigh bumps up against his and I freeze.

“Sorry.”

Cocking his head, puzzlement pulls his thick brows together before he looks down at where our legs are touching.

“It’s fine,” he says slowly, patting at his leg. “I don’t think you can hurt me.”

He points to his green insulated lunch bag on the other side of him. “Notice I’m not eating yet.”

I roll my eyes even while holding back a chuckle. I like his somewhat snarky sense of humor, but I’m not going to let him know that.

At least not just yet.

“And you’re even on time today,” I say, looking at him from under my eyelashes as I pull the strawberry pie out of my bag. I offer him the container.

“What’s this?” he asks, holding up the container and eyeing the red pie within like it might be dangerous.

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