He nudged me as we came around the first switchback. “By the way, Gemma called me to tell me I’m her favorite.”
I glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
He raised his hand. “I swear on your cat’s life.”
I had to admit that made me a tad jealous. “Wait until she sees Oscar at the ultimate sleepover. It will be game over for you.” Gemma had been begging for a pet, but Dani and Brock weren’t planning on giving in.
“I wouldn’t be too sure. And I’m willing to crash this sleepover with a puppy to retain my title.”
I stopped running and narrowed my eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”
He gave me a sexy smirk. “Wouldn’t I?”
“Do you really want a dog?”
“To win the love of my niece? Absolutely. And, I’ve been thinking about it,” his tone went from playful to serious. “I could use the company.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “That I get, but don’t even think about one-upping me.”
He wagged his brows. “That I can’t agree to.”
“Well, for your information, there are no boys allowed at the sleepover. Sorry.”
He leaned in, too close. “Good thing I’m a man.”
Oh, was he ever one. One that took my breath away. “Men aren’t allowed either,” I stumbled on my words like a smitten fool.
“That’s a shame,” he crooned before taking off like he hadn’t just upended my equilibrium.
I ran to catch up to him. “Maybe we should get to business,” I suggested. It was too easy to be flirtatious around him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m kind of enjoying this. I feel like all I do is business anymore.”
“So why do you want to take on more with me?”
“You’ll be doing all the heavy lifting.” He grinned, not quite answering the question.
“In some ways, but you’ll still be involved.”
“Believe me, working with you will be a reprieve.”
“Must be some case you’re working on.”
“It will hopefully be over soon.” A sense of hope mixed with a lot of exhaustion weaved into his words.
For his sake, I hoped he was right. “Are you sure you want to get involved in the restaurant? You realize there aren’t any guarantees, and there are rarely any breaks in this business.”
“Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“Because I don’t want to make a mistake. It seems that’s all I ever do.” I was honest with him.
“From where I sit, it’s not you that’s making the mistakes.”
“That’s kind of you to say, but I obviously have poor judgment.”
He again stopped running and cocked his head. “Let’s address your concerns.”
I let out a heavy breath. “Where do I start?”
His brow quirked. “How many do you have?”
“A few, but they are major concerns.”
He stepped closer and rested his hand on my arm. His touch and presence offered a comfort I couldn’t quite explain. For a moment, it made me forget I had any concerns at all. But then my brain kicked in and reminded me that the way he made me feel was the biggest concern of all. How did I tell him that?
“Let’s talk through them. I want you to feel comfortable. I would hate it if you ever had any regrets about working with me.”
By how he could make my body zing, I was sure there was going to be some major regret. The question was, what would I regret more—losing my restaurant or going into business with someone I was in love with?
He gently squeezed my arm before letting it go.
Without saying a word, we both began to leisurely walk the trail. I knew he was waiting for me to speak.
I gripped my water bottle tightly. “So, first concern: I know you will be a silent partner, but how will we keep it from our families?”
“I don’t think we can. And I trust them to stay quiet about it.”
I didn’t know how to say this next part delicately, but it had to be said. “What about Dani?” I knew this would freak her out.
He gave me a knowing look, telling me that he knew exactly what I was getting at. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “She’ll understand,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“I’m not sure about that. She’s pretty adamant that I stay away from you. Why is that?”
Brant swallowed hard several times. “She’s a good sister, and she doesn’t want you to get hurt.” He offered no additional details, and I knew from the way he spoke that he was going to keep it that way.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I whispered, like I was asking for personal, not professional, reasons.
He faced me, his eyes boring into mine. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
Staring into his mesmerizing eyes and feeling the force of his words, my hand itched to trace his stubbled jawline. What was wrong with me? This was supposed to be a business meeting. And this was exactly why I had concerns about this deal. “So, are you going to tell her, or do you want me to?” I teased, trying to keep my head on straight.