Page 23 of When It Snows

Weston scratches his chin. “It might have been two.”

I shake my head. “I’m supposed to be the klutz, remember?”

“I’m not a klutz, but I did forget to light some candles and ran into the counter in the dark.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

He bats his eyelashes. “If I did, will you kiss it better?”

I’ll kiss all his boo-boos better. I can’t wait for the chance to get my mouth on his body. I could trace his abs with my tongue. He also has a tattoo on his shoulder I need to explore.

I clear my throat and force those thoughts away. Weston is a one night only kind of guy. I might think I could fall in love with him, but he’s only here for a good time.

“You’re a menace,” I tease.

“But a fun menace.”

“And modest to boot!”

“No reason to be modest in certain areas.” He winks.

My cheeks flame. Nope. There’s no reason to be modest. Weston knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. And, boy, did I profit from his knowledge this morning.

“Nobody likes a braggart.”

“Really?” He steps toward me. “You didn’t enjoy this morning?”

My face is officially on fire, but I soldier on. I’m not the shy bookworm I was in high school. “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy this morning. I said nobody likes a man who brags about his conquests.”

“Conquest?” He palms my neck. “Is that what you think you are?”

My nose wrinkles. Of course, I do. What else would I— I sniff. “Is something burning?”

“Shit.” Weston rushes to the stove. “I think the eggs are ruined.”

I peek over his shoulder. “Are those supposed to be omelets?”

“I may have exaggerated about the eggs being omelets. Scrambled eggs is more accurate.”

I study the burnt pieces of onion and the blackened bits of eggs. “I have cereal.”

“I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“I appreciate the effort but maybe stick to yogurt in the future when you want to make a woman breakfast.”

“I don’t usually make breakfast for a woman.”

My eyes widen and my pulse skips. Am I special? Does Weston think of me more than another one night stand? He did fight back when I said I was a conquest. Maybe there’s hope for us.

I place the pan in the sink and feign nonchalance. “You don’t?”

He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck. “No, I don’t. You’re special, precious.”

My knees wobble. This is why I could fall in love with Weston. He calls me precious. And, in his arms, I do feel precious.

“I appreciate the effort, but you’re scrubbing the pan.”

He pats my ass before herding me out of the way. “I got this.”

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