Page 59 of Ella Gets the D
“A mess, apparently.” I scoop a piece of the homemade avocado mix off my face with a chip.
This is me on a Saturday night. Stuffing my face, looking all sorts of unattractive in front of an international coochie connoisseur.
Julian’s tongue darts between his lips. “Mask or not, I’d still eat you.”
I choke on a tortilla chip. Is he—is he flirting with me? “I know you did not call my phone to act delusional. What time is it over there?”
“Close to three.”
“Julian Michel!”
“We using government names now?” His smile spreads the amber light over his face. He is a beautiful man. “I’m a big boy.”
I’m sure you are.
Stop it!
“I feel bad keeping you up.” I sit back on the bed and take in his clothes again. “Those are some fancy pajamas.”
He chuckles. “I just got in a little while ago from meeting up with a friend.”
Ah.
“Your assumptions are screaming, El.” His eyes roll. “Preston is handsome, but he’s not my type.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Julian’s voice softens. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. Just do me a favor; get to know me for me. Not who everyone thinks I am.”
The knot in my belly tightens at his plea—andsweetheart. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, El.”
Two weeks’ worth of tension lifts with the two words I should’ve told him sooner. Julian might be a flirt—a delirious one, at that—but the man has more layers than the avocado concoction on my face. He’s been nothing but kind and welcoming. I want to get to know him better, the person behind the bachelor label who has a room in his house for his nephew. The one who buys his sister’s best friend a bed for her daughter.
The thread between us tugs. Our gazes linger through a comfortable silence, drawing our eyes from our mouths to our chests. The thread pulls again and brings out thoughts I’m in no place to entertain. “How’s London?”
Julian’s expression morphs. “Mostly cloudy, in the sixties.”
“It must be a relief to be away. From the heat. From…everything.” I laugh until it registers that I’m the only one. Okay, then.
His brows pinch. “Why do you do that?”
I frown. “Do what?”
He waits a beat and responds with a headshake. “Never mind.”
“Well”—I clear my throat—“I should let you go.” I wave a hand at his tailored suit. “I’m sure you want to get more comfortable.”
His eyes hold mine. “I’m comfortable now.”
Guess I’m the only one who needs to change their panties. “Okay!”
The corner of Julian’s lip twitches. “Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”
You make me want to ride on your London Bridge, especially if you keep calling me that.
“No,” I say and mimic his headshake. But it’s too animated to be believable.
