Page 4 of Hot Response
“Take it,” she offered gently, her big brown eyes staring up at me. From this angle, I could see just how small she was compared to me. I doubted she reached my shoulders if I was standing right next to her.
“It won’t bite. I promise. I didn’t put teeth in this batch.” She winked, and something about it made me take the treat from her hands. The tips of our fingers touched only for a split second, but I felt a jolt of electricity sweeping through me. Her eyes locked with mine, and I could have sworn she felt it as well.
“Thanks,” I rumbled, accepting the eclair. It wasn’t far from me, but my mouth watered from how good it smelled. Vanilla cream and chocolate filled my lungs. I could feel her eyes on me as I brought the pastry up to my lips and took a bite. My eyes fluttered shut, and a deep almost animal-like sound escaped from me.
“Fuck,” I cursed, unable to stop the word from slipping past my lips. “This is good.” I could see why it was her favorite. I took another bite, and another, and before I knew it, I had all but inhaled it in front of her. “Shit,” I mumbled, wiping the crumbs off my lips. “I devoured that like an animal. I’m sorry,”I apologized. “That was the best thing I’ve tasted here… so far.” There was no denying the double entendre to my words.
Our eyes connected across the counter. She was blushing and pressed her lips together. “I’m glad you enjoyed that,” she said a little breathily.
“I did.” My voice rumbled. I took a deep breath and shook my head.Focus, Ron!I yelled at myself. “Umm, how about a dozen of those and a dozen donuts,” I said, putting in my order.
“Are you back on shift?” she asked, and I grunted. My tongue felt too wide in my suddenly bone-dry mouth.I should just ask for her number.Call or text, and sure enough, with time, something would turn me off about her. “Do you guys do twelves or twenty fours?” she asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I ran my tongue over my teeth.
“Both,” I answered.
“And you work…” Holy fuck, she was making small talk with me.
“Twelves,” I answered and winced. I was just giving her one-word answers and probably fucking up any chance of her giving me her number or agreeing to have dinner with me. “I used to do twenty-fours.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes widened, obviously surprised that I’d willingly shared.
“I liked it, but at my age, I like twelves more.” Who the fuck was I kidding? I was looking at slowing down even further and trying to talk myself into applying for one of the supervisor shifts that for the most part were in the office.
“Your age?” She smiled. “You make it sound like you’re ancient.”
“I’m getting up there.” I grinned and liked the way she looked at me.
“I don’t know. You look pretty young to me.”Is that a simple observation, or is she flirting with me?
“How old do you think I am?” I laughed as she pretended to think.
“Hmm….” Her hands lifted to her face, and her pointer finger tapped against lips I wanted to taste more than my next breath. Her eyes grazed over my body with a very appreciative glance. “Mid- to late thirties.”
“You’re good for my ego, beautiful.” The term of endearment slipped past my lips, but fuck, I wasn’t going to take it back. “I’m forty.”
“Still young.” She shrugged, leaning against the counter, and I found myself doing the same.
“You think?” I asked. “I’m not too old?”
“Not for me,” she flirted, then immediately blushed. “I mean… not, like, for me. I just mean, I don’t think forty is old at all.” She stumbled over her words in the most adorable way. “I’m thirty-two,” she shared, and my brows bunched.
“No, you’re not,” I argued, and the sound of her laughter filled me in the most unexpected way.
“Yeah, I am.” She giggled. Her dark eyes were almost glittering in my direction. “How old did you think I was?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I just knew you were younger than me.”
“Only by eight years, Ron.” She leaned closer. My eyes skated down the line of her neck. Fuck, I was in trouble. My eyes connected with hers, and the way she was looking at me was making it hard for me to remember why the hell I’d told myself to take my time.Ask for her number, dumbass! Fuck it, ask her to dinner!a voice in my head shouted.
“Hey, Evelyn,” I started to say, my voice hoarse in my ears as my heartrate picked up speed.
How long had it been since I’d asked for a woman’s number? Since I’d wanted to take her to dinner? Get to know her in a way I knew I never wanted to stop learning about her?
Not since Sara.The reminder made me hesitate, and it was like she could feel it.
“Yes, Ron?” she asked, leaning in closer. So close, I could smell her perfume and hints of her shampoo. It was a mix of vanilla, apples, and cinnamon. All I wanted was to kiss her neck and see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
“I was wondering…” Just then, the bell over the door chimed, and we both looked towards it. Three ladies walked in one with a stroller, talking and laughing, and I knew my chance to get her number today had slipped through my fingers.
