Page 33 of A Not So Merry Rescue
He wears a playful smirk, an inkling of who I’m talking about. “Clem, gotta go.”
“I want details” is all I hear before I jam my finger to end the call, my eyes never leaving Beckett’s heated gaze.
“Time for the grocery store? Is the ground still snowy? Should I wear my boots? Is it freezing? Can I get away with this sweatshirt and no coat?” I rapid-fire questions at him, hoping to distract him from what I said.
His eyes narrow, and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I wait him out. He crosses his arms against his chest and leans his hip against the counter. Damn, but he’s sexy. I wonder what he’s like in bed.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. No.”
“Huh?”
“The answers. To your questions.”
My eyes bug. “You followed those?”
He pushes from the counter, stalking to where I sit at the table. Resting his hands on the wood, he leans in. “Didn’t miss any of yours nor the fact you’ve neglected to answer mine.”
I swallow, stalling for time. His proximity is daunting, overwhelming. “Umm. Noticed that, did ya?”
“Yep.” His head inclines closer until only a few inches separate us. My breath hitches, wondering what his next move is going to be. How muchcloserhe’s going to get. An inferno ignites inside me with the anticipation. “When you do it, be careful with my bones. I’ve broken several throughout the years.” With a wink of his left eye, he withdraws from my personal space. “Be ready in five minutes. There’s a fleece-lined hoodie in the hall closet.”
I’m so flummoxed, I can’t move nor make sense of what his latter comment means. Why would I need to know about his sweatshirt? I flash back to his answers, the only “no” the last one. What was the last question I asked? I take a few minutes to remember it was something about not needing a jacket.
There’s a fleece-lined hoodie in the hall closet.
Is he suggesting I wear that instead?
It’s only when his other comment sinks in do my cheeks blaze.
Be careful with my bones.
When I jump them.
Could this be more humiliating?
I rest my head in my hands, trying to wrap my thoughts around what’s going on. How I redeem myself from this.
Except, he didn’t seem bothered by it. And he was definitely encouraging me to do it with his warning of being careful. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have brought it up. He would have let the idea drop without acknowledging it. The fact he not only brought it to my attention but apprised me to be careful is a sign in my favor.
I haven’t had thoughts of being with another man since Elias or barely looked at other men. Even if it’s purely physical, a means to an end, to scratch an itch, I can’t deny the chemistry between us. I can’t deny the attraction.
“I see you’re not good at following the one direction I gave you.”
Again, his voice catches me by surprise. I peer up through spread fingers. “Has it been five minutes already? Oops.” A nervous giggle escapes.
“Do you want the hoodie?”
He heads out of the kitchen to the closet ahead of me answering, and when he returns holding the sweatshirt, it’s all I can do not to leap up and grab it from him. It looks warm, and it probably smells like him. Which is probably not my best move, but neither was agreeing to stay in a stranger’s house two nights ago, and that’s worked out in my favor.
Beckett holds the gray—not holiday-themed—hoodie out to me, and I snatch it out of his hands and shove my arms into the sleeves. It’s about three sizes too big, but it’s warm and cozy, exactly like the man who owns it.
“Not a straitjacket?” He quirks a brow.
“Not even a little. Thanks.” I zip it up, shoving my hands inthe pockets. The greatest urge to sniff it overcomes me, but he’s watching my every move, so I refrain, using every ounce of willpower.
“Did you make a list?”
“I did.”
