Page 39 of More Than a Helping Hand

“And I’ll help, but first, food. We’ve worked hard. We’re tired. Barbecue will help.”

I pat his arm as I walk to the table, and he clasps my hand.

“Thanks for spending the evening with me.”

“The help is nice. And I appreciate that you bought dinner.” My attraction is winning out over my caution, and it scares me.

He sits down next to me, but once the brisket is on my plate, my main focus is getting food in my tummy. We’re quiet for the first few minutes as we fill our plates.

When I glance up and meet his gaze, he smiles. “Yes to potato salad and no to coleslaw. Now I know for future reference.”

“This coleslaw is sweet and has a lot of mayo in it. I don’t like that kind.”

Nodding, he drizzles sauce over his brisket.

“Clearly, you like green beans.”

He flexes. “Veggies make me strong.”

“I’m acquainted with your muscles.” I push the container of green beans toward him. “I like them, but you can have the rest. Because of your muscles.”

“Impressed?” He spoons the rest of them onto his plate.

“Honestly?”

He leans closer. “That scares you, I think. Honesty, I mean.”

I make a show of gazing at his arm before meeting his gaze again. “Very much.”

“Was that very much about the honesty or about my muscles?”

I smile and continue eating.

When we finish, I start clearing the table. “My middle name is Laney.”

He drapes an arm around my shoulders. “I like that.”

“And I’m bad at maintaining relationships.” I hurry into the kitchen.

Anderson stays quiet as we toss the trash and I tuck leftovers into the fridge.

I need to be honest with the guy and let him know what he’s walking into. After sucking in a deep breath, trying not to get lost in his mesmerizing gaze, I say, “I need to level with you.”

A second later, Anderson grabs my hips.

“What are you doing?” I clutch his neck as he lifts me off my feet, then sets me on the island.

His hands are still on my hips and his face only inches from mine when he says, “There. Now we’re level. Talk to me.”

A fluttery feeling explodes in my chest. He picked me up with ease, like I weigh less than a feather. And the way he’s looking at me turns my insides to molten goo. And I can’t even remember the last time I felt gooey like that.

Instead of doing as he asks and talking to him, I clasp his shirt and give it a tug, pulling him to my lips. This man makes me feel alive and beautiful, and if I don’t kiss him right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll cease to exist.

And he can kiss as well as he can flirt.

His arms tighten around me, and my hands find his beard.

“Mmm. I like that,” he whispers before pressing in again.

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