Page 18 of Smoke Show

He shook his head. "Don't make me bust out the matching napkin rings."

I giggled. "That's your idea of a threat?"

He sighed, the sound full of suffering. "Only to my sanity. Pro tip: in a small town, it's wise to never be known for something."

"Yeah? Why's that?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing to the red and black placemats. "Birthdays, Christmas, and everything in between, it's all you'll unwrap forever."

"What?" I asked, holding back my mirth. "You mean you didn't buy the Grizzly placemats yourself?"

"At the risk of sounding less like a grown-ass adult, I'll admit the truth:nope. I didn't buy the placemats or napkin rings. Not the giant Grizzly couch throw either. Don't even get me started on my tie collection." He shook his head.

"Grizzlies all the way?"

He nodded solemnly. "Probably until the day I die."

"You could always move," I said lightly.

He arched his brows. "Like you did?" I tensed, and he waved his hand in the air, as if that could dissipate the strain in the air after his question. "Nah. Pretty sure it'd take witness protection to get me out of Grizzly gifts. My mom is the worst culprit."

"So, nothing red or black on your Christmas list, huh? Got it."

"I didn't saythat." He arched his brows suggestively. "I could make an exception for lingerie... On the right woman."

"Oh, Brady." I said, pretend pity infusing my tone. "Good thing you qualified that statement. You don't know how much ammunition you've already given me tonight. Best quit while you're ahead."

"You wouldn't use anything said in confidence against me, would you Eve?" he asked good-naturedly, confidence in his broad smile.

Like he knew he'd charmed the crap out of me. I couldn't remember a dinner I'd enjoyed more. As much as I loved my friends, our casual get-togethers didn't have the same silly intensity as my dinner with Brady.

"Brady, all I can say is never mess with an artist who knows Photoshop."

His eyes widened, horror stamped across his face as the possibilities no-doubt cascaded through his mind.

I nodded. "Yeah. You messed up, big time."

"But…but… I made you this delicious dinner,” he sputtered, gesturing to the bowl I'd scraped clean.

Grinning, I nodded. "Yes. And it was wonderful. But not enough to save you."

"Okay, I see how it is. You play hardball. What will it take, Eve?"

"What?"

"Name your terms. What will it take for you to abandon whatever plot is lighting up those beautiful brown eyes?"

His compliment and playful challenge took me by surprise, emboldening me further.

"A kiss."

The words popped out before I could consider them fully. He asked me what Iwanted, not what I should have. Sitting in his warm kitchen, eating the delicious meal that he’d prepared for me, and seeing his home, had made me brave. He’d been funny, charming…total boyfriend material. I wanted a taste of the life he promised. Just once, I wanted to live the fantasy. Kissing my co-director was a terrible idea. Brady reminded me of the dreams I’d given up on, but his smile danced like flame, urging me to take the risk, eager to feel his warmth.

"You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Pendleton. And can I say, the hypocrisy is noted, but also appreciated."

I arched a brow. Was that a compliment wrapped in a criticism? We'd been dancing around each other all evening, but was he actually considering my offer?

Brady pushed his chair back from the table, the slow scrape of wood on wood punctuating the intent in his heavy-lidded eyes.

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