Page 117 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

“Then what should I call you?”

“How about we go with Shay?”

“Okay, Chick. I’ll see what I can do.”

What the hell?

He smiled a wicked grin, as if he knew something I’d yet to discover.

“You can call me Shannon, if you want to keep it professional,” I offered, trying to ignore the hiccup that was sitting in my throat.

He took a step closer to me. I watched his eyes dance across my body, moving up and down every inch, following to my lips, which he fixated on for what felt like hours, even if it was only mere seconds.

“What in the world makes you think I want to be anywhere near professional with you, Shay Gable?”

Oh, sweet Caroline, he was eye-fucking me. I felt the pool of heat in my stomach starting to build and the trembling of my thighs as Landon proceeded to eye-fuck me right there in Greyson’s hallway, underneath the mistletoe.

I took a step back, trying to interrupt the awkward yet delicious interaction between us. I guessed he could see how he made me feel, based on the redness of my cheeks.

His smile deepened, pleased by how flustered he left me.

He took a step back, and I took another two.

“Merry Christmas, Shay,” he whispered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a banana Laffy Taffy.

I huffed and puffed and blew my nerves down as I snatched the candy from his grip. “Whatever, Landon. Merry Christmas.”

I hurried back into the kitchen to help Eleanor prepare food. She raised an eyebrow my way. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Everything’s peachy,” I grumbled to myself, thinking about how odd Landon was acting. “You know what, I’m not peachy. You know what I hate most in this world?”

“What’s that?”

“Landon Harrison.” She laughed as if she didn’t believe me, because of course it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t get the unease out of my chest, so I kept going on. “I mean, can you believe that? When I showed up today, he had the nerve to say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ to me. Can you believe that asshole?” I spat out.

By asshole I meant I loved him.

She laughed. “How rude.”

“Exactly! It’s like he’s trying to play some mind games.”

“Or, he just meant Merry Christmas.”

I huffed and puffed. Maybe I was overthinking everything.

At least that was what I thought until he popped his head into the kitchen. “Need any help in here, ladies?” he asked.

“You cook?” I countered.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“I don’t know, but if you give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can bring some nice sausage into your life.” He winked my way.

He.

Winked.

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