Page 42 of Drop the Mitts

She didn’t think he noticed her looking. She’d fought against a magnetic pull so strong, it yanked her insides through her feet, but had definitely slipped a few glances. If she thought André leaning over her counter was seared in her memory . . .

Grace popped down the sun visor and flicked open the mirror, straightening her hair. She’d been tempted to wear it in a ponytail, but thought that would have been far too obvious. The feel of him tugging her head back—his teeth scraping her lip?—

She threw the door open and closed the mirror. Her breath clouded in the frosty morning air as she stepped out of her car into the parking lot, hitting the lock button and pushing the door closed behind her.

And there he was. Leaning against his truck like he’d been sculpted into it, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a black hoodie that should’ve looked plain but on him was anything but.

His jeans were faded and had that worn ripple in the crotch that made her fingertips tingle. His hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends. That felt purposeful, considering. He hadn’t shaved, and her stomach absolutely did not flip at the sight of his stubble.

“Morning,” he called, that crooked grin already on full display.

“If you’re checking for wardrobe malfunctions, I counted all my buttons before I left the house.”

He pushed off the truck with a lazy shrug. “Damn shame. I’ve gotten used to being flashed before coffee.”

Grace lifted her chin. “So entitled.”

He chuckled, slow and rich. “You're feisty this morning. Not quite as riled up as?—”

“Okay, thank you.” She fought the blush rising to her cheeks, hoping it looked like it was from the wind chill. “That isn’t going to happen again, by the way.” She said it as much to reassure herself as to set a boundary.

André sauntered forward, one hand in his pocket. He paused beside her and leaned in. “Seventy-thirty.”

“What?”

“My odds of sleeping with you. They’ve increased.”

Grace made a sound in her throat. “Your statistics are skewed.”

André continued on toward the restaurant with a near hop in his step. “Where’s my coat, Grace?”

She spun and jogged to catch up. “Okay, that’s not fair. I keep forgetting?—”

“You’re not a forgetful person.”

“You could’ve grabbed it when you left the other night! It was hanging by the door.”

He reached for the cafe door and flashed a smug smile. “I noticed.”

Grace rolled her eyes and stood in front of the hostess stand. The space was warm, bright with hanging plants, vintage mugs, and playlists that made you feel like you were in an indie movie. The clink of cutlery and soft morning chatter buzzed beneath the hum of the espresso machine. “I think I’m too old for this place.”

André laughed. “I’d believe that if every man didn’t just turn his head when you walked in.” Grace gave him a look, but he only shrugged. “Don’t make me take another poll.” He stepped up beside her. “Elodie’s a few minutes away. I told her we’d get a table.”

We.The word sent a shiver down Grace’s spine. Just as she was berating herself for being flattered by André even for a split second, the hostess appeared. She gathered three menus, then led them from the entryway to a booth next to the window, per Andre’s request.

Grace’s spine curled like a flower opening to the sun as André’s hand landed on her lower back. “When you show up with your outfit all shiny and pressed, all I can think about is messing it up.”

She stumbled a step. André moved past her and slid into the booth, making small talk with the hostess like he hadn’t just sent her heart into a cartwheel. He was dangerous. A straight shot of adrenaline into her veins.

She sat, forcing herself to look at anything but his mouth. Or his jeans. Or his hands—Ugh.Grace buried her face in her menu.

“Forget your glasses?”

“Is that an old lady joke?”

He laughed. André knew precisely what he was doing to her, and if she couldn’t figure out how to stop giving him the exact reaction he wanted, he wasn’t going to stop.Did she want him to stop?

Grace blew out a breath, then ran her fingers over the smooth, laminated menu and inhaled the scent of maple syrup, toasted bread, and espresso.

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