Page 75 of Simply Yours

“What do you think of that one?” he asked for what had to be the eighth time, barely restraining a grin.

Caitlin paused mid-reach, narrowing her eyes at him. “Didn’t we already look at that one?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, feigning innocence.

“I’m pretty sure we did.”

“If we did, you should?—”

“Seriously?” She shot him a look, one eyebrow arched.

Jason chuckled, pulling a paint tray from the cart and handing it to her as if it were a baking pan. “Hey, I’m thirty-four. One day, I’ll be fifty-four. Ergonomics are important and should be something everyone checks.”

She rolled her eyes but took the tray anyway. “Fine, old fart—I'll do this just for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

And then she bent over.

Slowly.

Purposefully.

Jason felt every last shred of self-control snap like a brittle twig as she slid the fake pan into the oven, the snug fit of her Wrangler jeans leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. His breath hitched, and for a long, helpless moment, all he could do was stand there, arms crossed, drinking in the view like a dying man in the desert.

She paused.

He knew it the second she caught on.

Still bent over, she turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder, lips pursed, eyes narrowing with accusation.

“You’re impossible,” she hissed, amusement and exasperation warring in her voice.

“Impossibly attracted,” he corrected, unable to keep from smiling as she straightened, shaking her head with a laugh.

“Hang on,” he said, schooling his face into mock seriousness. “Thanksgiving is serious business—put that ‘pan’ back in the oven. The turkey is still baking.”

Caitlin smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “I think the ‘turkey’ is completely baked in more ways than one.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.”

She studied him for a second, tilting her head like she was weighing whether or not to push him further. Then, lips twitching, she asked, “Did you enjoy the view?”

Jason exhaled, shaking his head in surrender. “I’ll be dreaming of it for weeks.”

She hummed in response, tapping her fingers against the oven door before turning back to him. “So, is this the one you want?”

“Truthfully?” he hedged.

Caitlin crossed her arms. “Yeah?”

“I liked the first one.” He shrugged, deadpan. “They’re all the same to me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“Oh my gosh.” Caitlin threw her hands in the air, laughter bursting from her lips as she spun in place, gesturing wildly at the other ovens. “I’ve just opened and shut six of them—maybe ten of them! And you’re telling me you don’t even care?”

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