Page 36 of Never Have I Ever

“Not others,” he corrects, not loud and showy but thoughtful and just for me. “You give me too much credit.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, then.”

“That’s a deal but on one condition.”

I hope he doesn’t make me regret giving him all those compliments. “Which is?”

“Stay, Poppy.” I remain right where I am, my head still swimming in how he exposed so much of himself. His voice's dulcet tone and smooth sound make me willing to do anything. That and his scent. It’s not lost on me that he smells like the sex I’ve been dreaming about. “Please.”

And then he goes and says that. I don’t think he’s as bad as I first assessed. His manners indicate the opposite. Please always goes a long way with me. He’s a big guy, that dark hair. He has those blue eyes I stare into any chance I get. Like now. He’s hard to ignore.

I also still want to address the topic of that tattoo that matches mine. It’s not the right time after what we’ve already been through this morning, but it’s still on my mind.

Playing the offer off might not be the best strategy, but I’m not sure what to say. It was a great conversation, and the barriers between us were torn down, but in the end, does it matter when I’m going my own way and he’s going his? “It’s snowing outside.” I keep it light, not wanting to make it a big deal. “I’m not going anywhere. I mean, my car is literally broken down in a snowstorm.” The situation hits me in the funny bone, causing me to laugh. “It’s like we’re living in a rom-com.” I glance at him. “You know, if the heroine was drop-dead gorgeous, had the wittiest sense of humor, and had never been in an accident.”

“Two out of three isn’t bad.” He just says it, tossing that praise into the universe like there’s no tomorrow. I catch it, metaphorically tucking it into my pocket so I can mentally frame it later in my mind.

“That was quite charming.”

A rogue smile punctures the dimples in his cheeks, making him even more attractive. “It’s true.” And now I’m blushing . . .

“I want you to stay, Poppy.”

I fidget with a barstool, swiveling it with my fingertips as a distraction to how insanely attractive I find this man, especially right now. “Technically, I already quit.” I toss out my only defense when I can’t think of any good reason to leave. Not because I want to leave but because I like hearing that he wants me to stay.

“I never got it in writing.” It’s the little things with him, like the cocksure lift of the eyebrow on the right side of his perfectly annoying face, that gets me. He comes around to the other side of the island from me, trying for innocence, but I recognize the bad boy has returned, and by how determined he looks with his sternly furrowed brow, he’s on a mission.

Slipping onto the stool, I sit straight, ready for the negotiation he’s about to go into and steeple my fingers.

He’s a behemoth of a man, eye level with me even when he’s bent down. “Since you’re stuck here anyway, you might as well get paid.”

“Good point. I’ll think about it.”

Pushing off the counter, he reaches his full height, making me work harder to stare into his gorgeous eyes. I’d stand, but this conversation doesn’t feel quite over, so I stay put. When he moves to the fridge, he says, “I blame myself for us getting off on the wrong foot.”

“We didn’t get off or on.” Watching his tongue drag over his bottom lip, I briefly get distracted. When his breathing deepens as he stares at me, I keep talking but avert my eyes. I’ve never had a boss who looked like him.

“I wasn’t expecting you. Not that it’s an excuse for how I reacted—”

“It’s okay. We were both startled. I get it.” I hop off the barstool, hoping to head him off from opening the fridge. It’s my job to make sure this man eats, even if I did kind of, sort of quit. I’m here, so cooking for him is the least I can do. “Though that knife.” I use my finger to graze across my neck. “That was a close call.”

“I apologize for that as well.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, these sorries are making me uncomfortable.” Grabbing the fridge handle, I add, “It’s normal to part ways if it’s not a good fit. I made one dish. It didn’t work out, so we called it quits. No harm, no foul.”

He’s staring at me like I’ve gone off the rails, so I add, “Get it? Foul. Fowl?” I roll my eyes because I thought that was hilarious. Him, not so much. “Guess you’re not into chicken jokes.”

“You have an odd sense of humor, you know that? Bear snark yesterday. Chicken humor today. I can’t wait to see what animal we’re roasting tomorrow.”

With jazz hands on full display, I reply, “Spoiler alert: it’s pork.” His smile splits his cheeks. Thank God I didn’t blow it on the pork.

“That was actually impressive. I didn’t know I was getting dinner and a show.”

“Now that’s funny.” I tug the door open. “I’m going to have to use that in the future.”

“The future? Already making plans on how to get out of here? Tomorrow is it for us?”

I nudge him with my socked foot. “I was planning my escape last night, but you’re doing a good job of tempting me.”

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