Page 5 of Leo, My Partner

Leo gathers the trash and tosses it before leaning on his desk. “Do you like it here?”

“It’s fine. Quiet. I like quiet. What about you? Are you from the area?”

He smiles. “No. I was born about an hour away, but I grew up mostly in Russia.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re Russian?” I never would have guessed. He has the whole surfer boy appearance, so I would have guessed he’s originally from California or something.

Leo nods. “Half. My father is. My grandfather raised me.”

“Why?” Eyes wide, I slap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I say, voice muffled since I haven’t moved my hand.

“Sorry for what?”

Dropping my hand, I smooth my fingers over the makeshift bandage. “That was an intrusive question to ask. You don’t know me well enough to share something so personal .”

Head tilted, Leo eyes roaming over my face. My skin heats under his gaze. He licks his thick lips, and I track the movement greedily.

“Would you like to?”

“Huh?” My brain isn’t fast enough to tell me not to sound like such an idiot.

“Get to know me. Would you like to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me take you out. We can talk over dinner.”

My mind races. Leo wants to what? Why me? With the way he looks, he can have any man he wants. Not like I’m ugly or something—without sounding too cocky, I’m a handsome guy. But I’m also awkward. I’ve made a fool of myself the entire time we’ve been conversing. I’m sure it won’t get better when we’re sitting down for a date.

Meeting his eyes, I ask, “Why?”

His smile is blinding, and I want to take the word back and just replace it with yes.

“Honestly?”Leo asks and I nod. “I’m not sure. You’re interesting. I want to talk to you more. I think we’d have a good time.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” he asks, his grin growing, the skin around his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way.

“Sure. When?”

“Tomorrow night. Give me your phone.”

Almost of its own volition, my hand reaches into my pocket, pausing only to enter my unlock code, and passes it to Leo all before I could give it the command. Thankfully, Leo doesn’t comment on my eagerness—he simply taps a few buttons on the screen, then hands it back to me. He pulls his own phone out and types. My device buzzes in my hand, and I see a simple message that says, It’s Leo.

Standing, I slide my phone in my pocket and grab my basket. Leo pushes off the desk, walking close to me so our chests almost touch. “I’ll text you tonight so we can iron out our date.”

“Oh …” I mutter, not able to pull my eyes from his mouth. “Yeah. Yes. That’s … yes.”

“And my partner will message you about the contract.”

That snaps me back to why I was here in the first place. My sore hand tightens on the basket, and relief and giddiness flows through my body, a delayed reaction from when Leo told me he wanted to showcase my baking.

Smiling, I pull my eyes from his mouth and nod. “That sounds good. All of it. I’m excited to work with you. You two. You and your partner. Your business partner. Ray? No, you said Ray died. Fuck, that was blunt. I’m sorry. What’s your partner’s name?” I say everything in one breath.

A smile stretches his face, those amazing dimples popping. “His name is June. I like you, Ty. I like your babbling.”

“You’re the only one,” I say. The few guys I’ve dated in the past thought it was annoying. But when I’m nervous or overwhelmed, words sort of vomit from my mouth. I’ve tried to control it, but that’s a lost cause.

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