Page 40 of That Conflicted Feeling
“Youcan’t do that,”Iwhisper.
Helooks down at my hand, strokes his thumb across the back of it, and quietly and calmly, as if lulling a baby goat to sleep, asks, “Can’tdo what?”
I’malmost hypnotized by the back and forth action of his thumb. “Holdmy hand.”
Ican barely breathe.
“Why?” he asks.
“Becauseit’s terrible.”Myvoice comes out like a strangled whisper.
Hehalf sighs, half laughs. “See.That’sone of the reasons you’re great.”
Thenhe lifts my hand.
It’sheading to his mouth.Iknow it’s heading to his mouth.
Ishould snatch it away.Ishould reclaim my hand and not let him do what he’s about to do.
ButIalso really want him to do it.
Thedesperation to feel his lips on some part of me has beaten my good sense into submission.Mythighs clench as his eyes meet mine and he presses his lips right above my knuckles.
Mr.Twinklesis kissing my hand.TheCEOwith the driver and theNewYorkCityoffice tower and the billion dollars’ worth of companies, who’s going to open a grocery store that will ruin my life, is sitting in my produce delivery van, wearing a suit my goats have chewed and peed on, and he’s kissing my hand.
Imust be having an out-of-body experience.Orhave been abducted by aliens.Orat least be high off the aroma of the chili peppers in the back.
Hislips are warm and slightly parted so the damp inside edge is against my skin.
Myeyes drift shut for a fraction of a second as tingles shoot up my arm and across my chest, then leap down between my legs.
AllIwant to do is pull back my hand and replace it with my mouth.
But, in a flash, it’s over.
Hegently places my hand back on the steering wheel.Asif in a stupor,Ilet him.
“Thanksfor the ride,” he says with a smile that could make panties spontaneously fall off.
Heopens the door, slides out, then ducks back in to give me a little wave.
“Terrible,”Isqueak out. “You’reterrible.”
Witha quick shrug that saysshucks,he shuts the door, strides around the front of the van, and skips up the steps, throwing a grin at me over his shoulder as he disappears through the pink door.
Myhead flops back against the headrest asIfill my lungs.NowI’mnot being hypnotized by those mesmerizing blue eyes, the flirty banter, the sexy smile, and the hand-kissing,IrealizeI’vebeen holding my breath for way longer than is probably healthy.
Iblow out the air slowly and try to bring my heart rate back down to something below being-chased-by-a-pack-of-hungry-drooling-grizzly-bears pace.
Hello, reality.IthinkImight be back.
He’sonly being nice to shut me up, isn’t he?It’sall it can be.He’strying to get revenge for my revenge.HethoughtI’dplayed a game with him with the goats and the mud.Andnow he’s playing a game with me, with the flirting and the hand-kissing.
Istare at the pink door he disappeared through.
Ican’t let his store open.Notonly because it would destroy my business and my ability to giveMomeverything she needs.Butalso because of all the other businesses.Andthe community spirit.
Ican’t give up the fight because of one breath-stopping hand kiss.
