Page 5 of Sofa King Cute

Sawyer fucking Logan. So he’s after my girl now? The thought makes my scowl deepen. He can have any woman in town, and it’s not enough. I have the urge to chase after him and beat his ass, but I’m not sure Liv would like that. She’s got a tender heart and probably hates the sight of blood.

I saw him kiss her cheek, and she didn’t seem happy about it. If anything, she looked confused and then agitated. Still, he put his lips on her, and I won’t have it. I’ve been telling myself that I’d work up the courage to ask her out, and I’ll be damned if I let him swoop in and take her from me.

“Hi, Julius,” Liv says sweetly as she tucks her pretty pink hair behind her ear. It’s the color of cotton candy, and I have the urge to touch it and see how soft it feels.

“Liv,” I manage to say and then swallow hard. I feel my face start to flush, and I clench my fists. My boots are heavy on the hardwood floors as I walk up to the counter.

“What brings you to the shop today?” She looks over at the shelf and then back at me. “I’ve got some new candlesticks that match the fruit bowl you bought the other day.”

“It’s pink.” I wish I carried around a shovel so I could dig myself a hole and hide in it. Why do I get so tongue-tied around her? I’m not great with people, but I trip over all my words with Liv.

“Yeah.” Her smile fades a little as she touches the ends. “I was trying something new, but I don’t know if?—”

“It’s pretty.”

“Really?” Suddenly her smile is a million times brighter, and she bounces on her toes.

She must really like compliments. Maybe that’s why she likes Sawyer fucking Logan. He’s not good enough for her.

“I like pink.” Maybe it would be better if I turned around and walked into traffic. Everything about this woman ties me in knots.

“Oh, then I should show you what else I’ve got.” She comes around the counter, and before I know what’s happening, she grabs my wrist.

Liv might have lots of soft curves made for a man to hold, but I’m at least a foot taller than her. Hell, I’ve probably got more than a hundred pounds on her too. But when she tugs my wrist, my feet follow. I’m pretty sure she could pull me around the world and I’d never want to stop.

The touch of her delicate fingers around my wrist feels like being held by a handcuff made of flowers. Glancing down at the sight of it, all kinds of dirty thoughts enter my mind. The first one is of her holding it while I bury my face between her legs. I have to look away or she’s going to see how big my dick can get, and then I’ll really scare her off.

“What do you think?” She releases my wrist when we get to the shelf in front of the window, and I look down at her hand.

I want to tell her I think she should hold me again, but then I realize she’s talking about what she made. I’d noticed the coffee table earlier and knew immediately it was hers. Not because it was pink but because it’s got so much love in it. Liv’s twin sister Lane makes beautiful furniture and is an excellent woodworker, but they aren’t the same.

If someone walked into my old house back in the city, they’d probably say it was boring. It was straight to the point with zero color. Since moving to Cottonwood and seeing Liv’s pieces, I’ve started to change my mind. At first I bought them because I liked her and didn’t know how to ask her out. But the more I look at them every day, the more I think about how happy it makes her to put love into them. I get to have a piece of her love with me all the time, and if filling my house with the things she’s made gets me one step closer to her, it’s a win-win.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her, and I mean it. I can see the delicate white flowers along the edge, and I can imagine she took her time to get each one perfect. I bet she even did that cute thing where her tongue pokes out at the corner of her mouth when she concentrates. “Do you deliver?”

“Deliver?”

She looks at the small coffee table and then back to me. Her eyes slowly move up and down my body, and I have to fight not to fidget or get embarrassed. The coffee table is probably the size of my thigh, but I need an excuse to get her to my place.

“I’m, uh, on the way to the post office, and I don’t want to leave it in the back of the truck.” That might be the most words I’ve ever strung together in front of her.

“That’s a good point. It could rain.” We both glance at the sun pouring in.

“I was thinking I don’t want anyone to steal it.”

“In Cottonwood?” She waves me off like I’m being ridiculous. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Or, like you say, rain,” I rush to say. “I’ll pay double the delivery fee if you can do it today.”

Her eyes widen a little, but when she smiles, it’s the biggest and brightest I’ve seen. Even brighter than when she was talking to Sawyer fucking Logan.

“Sure, I can do that. What time?”

Am I imagining she’s leaning closer to me?

“Whenever is good.” I’ll go straight home if I have to.

“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll text you when we close up?”

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