Page 19 of Flirty Thirty

He grins and drops my hand, sending a cold breeze over my palm. “All right.”

My head tilts on its side. “That easy? You’re just going to let me change?”

“I’m not going to force you. ButIwon’t be changing.” He pinches the cotton material loosely hanging over his abs. “This is exactly the wardrobe the night calls for.”

I purse my lips together, biting back a grin and a curse I’d like to drop on him. He’s good at the reverse psychology—I consider changing for only a second before deciding to grab my purse and lock the door behind us. I shake my head at the victorious expression he’s donning.

“The gloating smile isn’t the most attractive thing,” I lie through my teeth. He laughs, claiming my hand once more and swinging it between our bodies as we make our way to the passenger side of the truck. He gave it a good run with a hose, but I can tell he abandoned the idea of a professional wash with flecks of stubborn mud clinging to the underside of the door.

“So… are you going to remain mysterious?” I ask him after I buckle in and he starts up the engine. “Or do I get to know what it is we’re doing?”

He presses his lips together thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’veeverbeen described as mysterious.”

I drop my jaw in mock shock. “Really? But you’re so reserved.”

He chuckles and pulls the truck into gear, the muscles in his forearm flexing and teasing me in the sunset light.

“I unfortunately got called in to work tonight. I was hoping you would tagalong.”

My shoulders slump in disappointment, brows pulling inward. “You work in your pajamas?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, giving me a side glance. “This particular meeting requires it.”

I shake my head at him. More mystery. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“There’s a wrinkle right above your nose that is absolutely gorgeous. It seems to only pop up when I say something you aren’t expecting.” He grins and nods toward me. “Like right now, for instance.”

Warmth creeps through my neck, and I quickly put a hand over the wrinkle. A girlish grin threatens on my lips, and I chase it away with a laugh and look out the window. “Have you been described as unpredictable?”

“That one I’ve hearda lot.”

He takes us into the city, turning toward the cluster of office and news buildings, basically the hub of our community. My building used to be this far North until Garrison decided to move it closer to the suburban homes most of our clients find appealing. It’s helpful for the commute—I spent double on gas at the other building. Now we’re in a much more central location.

The sun ducks behind the mountain range we just left behind us, casting us in a soft blue light that, if possible, makes Cooper look even handsomer. The blue in his eyes seems to intensify just before he turns into a parking garage. He pulls into a spot reserved for him,Cooper Sterling, Executive Parkingin reflective white paint on the cement wall.

He shuts the diesel engine off, instantly quieting the garage.

“Here we are.”

“Is this your office?” I ask, cranking the door open. His eyes flick to my hand before he holds a single finger up.

“Wait right there.”

I let go of the handle, leaving the door open while he climbs out. He’s tall enough that I can see his blond head bob around the truck, and I take a moment to admire the naturally highlighted strands. Most of my teenage bedroom was adorned in blond heartthrobs. I’ve always been drawn to the sun-kissed look, but have found it rare in the men I’ve come in contact with in reality.

He steps in front of my door, and I let go of my thoughts so they don’t sneak their way off my tongue.

“May I?” he offers, gesturing to my waist.

My first thought is,not a chance. The cake I devoured the night before traveled to that exact spot, and I don’t revel in the idea of him touching such squishy areas.

My eyes drift to his very sturdy-looking shoulders, and I end up deciding to hell with it. I swivel sideways and hook my palms atop his shoulders while he wraps his strong hands around my waist. He plucks me from my seat as if I weigh 100 pounds less than I actually do and ever-so-gently sets me on my feet next to his. I like it here—sharing body heat and feeling feminine and beautiful when I rarely feel this way. It weakens my ability to think, so I release my hold on his shoulders, and he reluctantly lets go of my waist.

“Thank you,” he says, his breath warm and minty over my head.

“For…?”

He smirks. “That was more for me than it was for you.”

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