Fuck me, even his foot is sexy, minus the swollen ankle that is now the ugliest shade of purple.
I draw the line at ogling feet. It will not happen.
Standing, I rush to the kitchen, hell bent on getting out of here. After dumping some ice in a bag, I wrap it in a towel and take it to Noah. He’s watching me as I move around—I can feel it—but I refuse to make eye contact with him because my feelings are hurt, and I’m still kind of pissed at the way he spoke to me.
With a gentle touch, I situate the ice around his ankle. “Leave this on for twenty minutes, and then take it off.” I stand and reach for the muffins, but Noah scoops them up. “Give me the muffins.”
I hold out my hand, but he shakes his head. “Not until you let me explain.”
“Explain what?”
It’s official; I’ve lost my cool. I’ve spent my entire life perfecting manners, and this man has managed to break me in a matter of seconds.
“Explain why you’re an asshole? No, thank you. I’ve had enough of those in my life; I don’t need another one. Funny enough, I thought you’d be different, southern hospitality and all that. My mistake.”
“Lennon—”
“No.” I try to grab the muffins from him, but he’s got a death grip. “Give me the muffins.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean I don’t want to hear whatever it is you feel the need to say.”
Oh man, that was good. I’m really proud of myself for standing my ground. This definitely deserves a pint of ice cream when I get home. Or hell, maybe I’ll eat this whole damn container of muffins.
“Lennon—”
“It’s Ms. St. James to you,” I snap, jerking on the container only to have him jerk it equally as hard.
Noah smirks—actually fucking smirks—and I’ll be damned if I’m not tempted to let go of the container just so I can smack the look right off his face.
“If you’d let me talk—”
“I don’t want to let you talk,” I grunt, giving the container one last tug. It’s no use. I let the muffins go, and Noah falls back on the couch with a soft oomph. “I’ve been nothing but sweet to you.”
“That’s the problem,” he says, exasperated. “You’re too damn sweet.” The words tumble from his mouth, and I can tell he didn’t mean to say them because he pinches his lips together as if he could somehow draw them back in.
“That’s not a bad thing, Noah. Usually if you’re nice to people, they’re nice back. You should try it sometime.”
Damn. She is sexy as hell when she’s all fired up.
Maybe it’s the shouting, or the fact that she’s within close proximity and my body is buzzing the way it did when she wrapped her legs around me on the side of the road. It’s also entirely possible that the fresh smell of her perfume has somehow drugged me. Whatever it is, something causes me to snap.
“I can’t be nice to you,” I shout back.
Lennon throws her hands up. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
“Because I want to know you, damn it!”
Lennon’s eyes widen, her lips forming a perfect little O.
Shit, I can’t believe I just said that. But it’s true. Every word out of those perfect lips makes me want to know more, makes me crave more. And I can’t give in to that. Closing my eyes, I run a hand through my hair.
“That’s a bad thing?” Her voice is softer, and much closer than before.
When the couch dips beside me, I look up.
“It’s a dangerous thing,” I say, correcting her.