Page 17 of Off Limits

“Double it,” Simon orders. “We’re getting a full dozen.”

Will nods, unfazed by Simon’s gruff command, and scoops up the rest of the pumpkin spice cookies, a few more chocolate chunk, and fills out the rest of the dozen with frosted sugar cookies. No way do I need a dozen cookies, but maybe Simon wants a few? Otherwise I can share with Autumn, I guess. Hell, maybe we’ll share with Will if he comes around, depending on Autumn’s plans for him.

“Thanks,” I tell him and accept the box.

He gives me a warm smile in return. “You’re welcome. Anything else?” His eyes bounce between Simon and me, but mostly stay on me. I can’t blame him. With Simon being all big and broody and intimidating, if I didn’t think he were as hot as I do, I probably wouldn’t want to look directly at him either. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, still standing there with his arms crossed, his biceps bulging over his puffed out chest, and a look like thunder on his face. In fact, give him a big hammer, and he could easily cosplay as Thor. Well, fine, I guess his hair’s a bit dark for that, but he’s got the swagger and the size. Andrew called him The Hulk, but he’s wrong. Simon’s always big, and he doesn’t have The Hulk’s rage problems.

No, he’s definitely more Thor than Hulk. Protective, not destructive.

I might’ve binged the entire MCU a few times over the summer, so the comparison is fresh on my mind. Can you blame me? Between Captain America’s ass, everything aboutBlack Panther, and shirtless Thor running around, what’s not to love? Even fat Thor inEnd Gameis entertaining, in my opinion. On top of that, Shuri and Captain Marvel are some of my favorite female characters on film.

Simon orders a quiche, and as he’s digging his credit card out of his wallet to pay, I stop him with a hand on his arm. That same zing I felt in the restaurant at touching him shoots up my arm, the same firm muscles under warm skin begging for a caress. My breath catches in my throat for a moment, and I wonder if Simon feels the same thing. He looks down at my hand, but he’s still frowning, and I don’t know if that’s leftover frown or new frown because I touched him. I quickly pull my hand away, once again curling my fingers in to capture the feeling of his skin beneath my fingers as long as possible. It’ll evaporate before I know it, but I’ll take what I can get. We’re not the kind of friends who touch, after all. We’re not even friends at all, really.

“I can get my coffee,” I interject quickly.

He raises his eyes to mine, his frown deepening. “I told you I got you.”

“Are you sure?” I gesture at the counter. “You got all frowny when I ordered my coffee. If that’s more than you were planning on spending, I can cover it, it’s no big deal.”

His frown eases, his face softening, and the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. He’sallllmostmanaged to turn his frown upside down, but I keep that thought to myself. My strange observations are rarely welcome, I’ve learned. He shakes his head. “It’s not a problem. I told you I’d buy you dinner too. If you want coffee with your dinner, who am I to judge? It’s barely after five. I’m sure it’ll wear off by the time you go to bed sometime after midnight.”

Chuckling, I drop my gaze. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he says quietly, handing over his card.

Will watches us closely, surely wondering who this grumpy giant I’m with is, since he’s used to seeing me with Autumn.

After handing back Simon’s card, Will gets to work on the rest of our order while Simon and I pick a table in the empty bakery. “We probably shouldn’t stay very long,” I whisper as we sit down.

Simon’s lips quirk in a bigger smile. “Why are you whispering?” he whispers back.

“I dunno. It’s so quiet and empty in here, it just feels like the right thing to do.”

Simon chuckles. “So you come here pretty often?” Even though I never stopped whispering, he does, even if he keeps his volume down.

Which doesn’t bother me any, because I like Simon’s voice, a deep baritone that’s warm and smooth or rough and gruff by turns depending on his mood. I’m currently getting the warm and smooth version, like really good hot chocolate.

I shrug. “Yeah.” I give up on the whispering too, but like Simon, still speak quietly. “Autumn and I found this place last year. We come at least once a month on the weekend for a cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast. Their cinnamon rolls are huge and delicious.”

Simon nods, opening the box on the table between us and peeking at the cookies. I expect him to take one, but he doesn’t, instead closing the lid again and giving it a pat.

“You can have one,” I tell him, feeling weird about giving him permission to eat the cookies he just paid for.

But he shakes his head and sips the water he ordered. “Nah, those are for you. The quiche is off meal plan enough.”

“Right. I didn’t think about that.” I’ve heard Cal talk about his meal plans, but it’s not something I’ve ever had to care about. “Will you get in trouble with your coach or anything?”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, crunching an ice cube between his teeth. “Nah. Not really. Not unless I make a habit of overdoing things.”

“Croissant sandwich, quiche, and caramel mocha,” calls Will from the counter, and Simon stands to retrieve our food, motioning me back to my seat when I move to come with him.

I watch him cross the small dining area, enjoying another chance to check out his ass unobserved. The worn denim of his jeans clings to his perfect butt and thick thighs. I’ve never been with a guy as built as he is. Since Cal ran me off all the time, I made a habit of avoiding athletes, even after he graduated and left. All my boyfriends—like two is such a huge number—have been involved in the arts in some way or another. That was the crew I ran around with—theatre kids, band nerds, and art geeks. The guys can be cute, but they’re usually on the thinner side, even if they’re tall. None of them dedicate time to making their body a work of art like Simon obviously has.

When he turns back toward the table, tray in hand, I rip my eyes away, busying myself with my phone like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. I open my email app and start scrolling, but I have no idea what any of the headlines say, my thoughts still wrapped up in Simon’s body as a work of art.

He sets the tray down quietly, and I avoid his gaze as I reach for my food and coffee. “How’s the season going?”

Simon gives me a surprised look that I catch in my peripheral vision, because I still can’t look at his face, afraid that what I was thinking about him will be stamped all over mine. “Cal doesn’t keep you updated? Or like, you don’t just read the school paper to find out?”

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