Page 42 of The Pocket Pair

He stops my cart with one strong hand, holding my gaze. “You don’t owe me anything, Tiny. Friends do each other favors. It’s a thing.”

Gah! That word again! Friendsssss… In my head, it sounds like the hissing of a snake.

I glare. “I don’t feel like I owe you, stubborn man.”

Even though I really kind of do.

“You don’t need to earn your keep,” he insists.

I huff. “If you’re not going to let me pay you rent—”

“I’m not.”

“—then you’re going to let me cook for you. At least a few times a week.”

I can see the resistance in his face, but Chevy does not yet know the depths of my resolve. He’s about to learn. Because I AM going to cook for him.

I’m not Winnie, who’s all force and no nuance when she wants to get her way. I have my own bag of tricks, and I reach down deep to pull out one that will work on Chevy.

Biting my lip, I drop my gaze and soften my tone. “Unless you don’t want me to. If you don’t think you’d like my cooking, I understand. If you don’t want me bothering you …” I trail off, letting my voice wobble just the tiniest bit at the end.

A dirty, dirty trick. One hundred percent manipulation.

But also one hundred percent effective.

Chevy reaches out, squeezing my shoulder as he steps closer. “Aw, that’s not it, Tiny. You can cook for me.”

Winner, winner, I’m making Chevy dinner!

Er—breakfast.

I drop the act and grin, catching the expression on Chevy’s face shift the moment he realizes he’s been played. It is glorious.

“Glad we got that settled,” I say cheerfully. “Now tell me what you like to eat.”

His mouth drops open. “You fight dirty, Tiny.”

“You’ll thank me once I start making you meals.”

He chuckles, looking like he’s going to protest again, but as our gazes lock and hold, his laughter fades. As does the humor in his eyes, replaced by something a little more intense.

The air between us shifts, the way it keeps doing lately, and my skin prickles with awareness of how close we’re standing.

Am I swaying toward him? Or is he swaying toward me?

Please, please, PLEASE—let it be both.

Chevy draws in a quick and audible breath, sliding his hand from my shoulder up my neck, leaving a trail of tingling skin in its wake. I catch and hold my breath as his eyes drop to my lips.

This is happening! This. Is. Happening!!!

Near the deli counter with all those sliced meats staring, but who cares because CHEVY IS ABOUT TO KISS ME!

His hand brushes my cheek and my eyes flutter closed as he …

He …

He …

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