He kicked out a chair next to me and and dropped into it with a groan. “I swear I haven’t sat down since noon.”
“I hear you.” I held out a spinach roll. “Want?”
He leaned in and took it from my fingers with his teeth.
I slowed my chewing, my gaze locked on the way he licked his lips.
He sat back and laced his fingers over his rock hard, very flat belly. Dear goddess, why did he have to be so damn delicious? It was usually way easier for me to ignore such things.
But I knew firsthand just how tight that middle was. And how amazing that lower lip tasted. I still dreamed about it some nights. He had the perfect level of wet and dry in his kisses. Was there anything worse than a guy who used too much tongue?
Not as far as I was concerned.
Not that I had a huge number in that knowledge category, but I’d kissed my fair share of nope-never-again guys in my life. August was definitely in the repeat offender column. At least in my dreams. Repeat again and again with oh, yes, please, one more time.
“Do I have something on my mouth?” He flicked his thumb over the corner of his lip.
I shook my head and looked back down at my plate. “Nope. All good.”
He reached for my plate, and I moved it to the right. “Get your own.”
“You are a hard woman. And after I made that whole plate for you.”
I sighed and slid it back. “Not fair.”
“Who said I have to be fair?” He leaned forward and unearthed a breadstick. He glanced at me and sighed, handing it to me. Then took another spinach roll.
I smiled and broke it apart to nibble on one end. “You’re always fair. That’s who you are. The good guy, can’t change that.”
“Is that so?”
I flicked away a tempura-covered pepper to get to another piece of the pepperoni bread. “Yep. You, Becks, are super kind and safe.” I handed him the pepper. He must like them if he picked it. Ick.
He wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and lifted it to his mouth to chomp off the end.
I swallowed. “You can take it, you know.”
He finished it and took the other half, licking the tip of my finger. “No napkins.” He sat back. “Go on, keep telling me how much of a nice guy I am.”
I tapped my finger against the side of the plate and frowned down at it. That wasn’t an insult. “Your whole family is. Your mom keeps trying to fix me up with some guy named Brent. I mean, why? Do I look like a girl who’s going to go out with a Brent?”
Been there, done that. I didn’t need any more Brents in my tool chest, thanks.
“Brent Spielman?”
I popped the last bit of pepperoni in my mouth. “Yes.” I shuddered. “No thanks.”
“Definitely not.”
I pushed the near empty plate away. “Oh?” The hurt made me pull my hands together under the table. Of course I wouldn’t be good enough.
“Brent is a douche. He’s slick and talks a good game around people like my mom. In reality, he’s been banging his receptionist for the last three months and is always trolling at the Spinning Wheel.” He jerked my chair by the arm and twisted it toward him. “Don’t go fucking near him.”
I balanced myself with a hand to his knee. “Why do you care?”
“How blind are you, Kin?”
Four