Page 9 of Defensive Desire

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Okay… you're gonna have to talk me through it, Big Guy. The what now?"

I shake my head and take a breath.

Right. She wouldn't know about the meeting yet. I probably should have led with that.

Why am I always like this around her? Too fucking nervous to think straight.

"Icehawks community initiative," I explain, leaning against the counter. "Us players are partnering with local businesses to kick off the new season. Sophia's idea."

"And... you chose me?" Emma asks, clearly struggling to process. "I mean, my shop?"

I shrug. "Made sense."

It did make sense. Her coffee is already a hit with the team. Her shop is becoming a gathering spot in town. And she's... she's Emma. Smart. Driven. Beautiful in that quiet way that sneaks up on you.

Not that I'm thinking about that.

"But wouldn't you rather partner with, I don't know, a sporting goods store? Or a gym? Or literally anything that doesn't involve books and coffee?"

I raise an eyebrow, stepping closer, slightly enjoying the way her eyes need to lift as they track how I tower over her. "You saying you don't want to partner with me, Carter?"

"No! I mean, yes—I mean..." She takes a deep breath. "I'm saying I'm surprised, that's all."

"Why?"

"Because you're..." She gestures vaguely at all of me. "You. And I'm me."

"Very observant, Em," I deadpan.

A flush creeps up her neck, and I fight back a smile. Emma flustered is a damn sight to behold.

My eyes drop to her mouth. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, and fuck if that doesn't send heat straight through my body. Full, pink lips that part slightly under my gaze. I wonder if they taste like the coffee she's always sampling. Wonder what sounds she'd make if I backed her up against that counter and...

Fuck.

I grip the edge of the counter, forcing those thoughts away.

She shifts her weight too, and the movement draws my attention to her hips, to the way those jeans hug every curve. The same curves I've been pretending not to notice every time she reaches for books on high shelves or bends to grab supplies from under the counter.

"Logan?"

Her voice… it does things to me.

Shit… I really need to get it together.

"You know what I mean, right?" she huffs. "You're Logan Kane. The Iron Wall. Iron Ridge's favorite enforcer. And I'm just the local coffee witch."

My lips twitch at the nickname. "Witch? Is that why your coffee's so addictive? Witchcraft?"

"Ha ha," she says dryly, but I catch the smile she's trying to hide. "Seriously though, are you sure about this?"

"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't," I reply simply.

"Well, okay then. Partners."

She extends her hand across the counter, and I take it. Her palm is soft against my calloused one, but there's strength in her grip.

"Partners," I agree, holding on perhaps a moment too long before letting go.

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