Page 107 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Whoa, little man,” Riley says as he swoops in front of me and reaches out to balance the boy’s plate before it topples onto my dress. “You nearly dropped your waffles.” He blows out an exaggerated breath and wipes his brow. “They’re safe. Crisis averted.”
The little guy looks at him and then at his plate before he ducks his head and continues licking the syrup.
I laugh; I’d probably do the same if I were his age.
Chuckling, Riley helps him to his table, scruffs the little boy’s hair, then pushes his chair in for him. My heart melts into a pool of hormonal lava, my ovaries crying out like the Wicked Witch of the West when Dorothy doused her with water.“I’m melting. I’m meltiiing!”
I tell my ovaries to shut up.
So what if he’d make a great father and is no doubt an incredible uncle? Why’s that any of my reproductive organs’ concern?
Ugh!He’s like a groundhog. Stop burrowing, damn it.
Striding toward me, his navy T-shirt snug against his chest, his caramel-colored jacket the perfect accompaniment, I give him points for his sense of style. Burly but smart. Understated but eye-catching.
“I’m melting. I’m meltiiing!”
Allowing myself to dissolve just a little, I chew the inside of my cheek, smooth down my dress, and try to remain unfazed, undazed… and uncrazed.
He stops before me and smirks again. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
My melting solidifies. “Oh my God! Will you quit it?”
“I’m only at four. My goal is to reach tenby day’s end.”
Groaning, I turn away and head toward Guest Services, our meeting point for the ship tour.
“Ease up, Riles.”
“You ease up.”
“I would if it wasn’t working.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
He coughs out, “Bullshit,” and I’m tempted to take the elevator to piss him off.
But I’m a kinder person than I perhaps should be right now, so I take the stairs instead. “You can cough bullshit all you like. It’s not working, so you’re wasting your time.”
He scoots down a few steps and stops in front of me, his head level with mine. I gasp at his close proximity to my face, my eyes locked with his before they dip to my lips.
“Are you sure?” he says, voice low and sexy as hell.
No, not really.
He smells delicious, like minty flowers: fresh, clean, and…
Recognizing the scent, I lean forward as if to give him the kiss he wants, instead brushing the tip of my nose against his cheek and sniffing his hair. “Have you been using my shampoo?”
He rears back, eyes wide as he swallows. “No.”
I cough out, “Bullshit.”
Stepping back, he turns and continues down the stairs, so I chase after him.
“You have, haven’t you?”
He speeds away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
