Page 13 of Crumbling Truth
“I’ll help carry them for you.”
I nodded, grateful he didn’t comment on my reaction to his touch, and led the way back into the guest house to load his arms with boxes.
If I might, perhaps, have noticed the sculpted bulge of his biceps under his long-sleeved gray henley, well, surely that could be excused. It was important that I knew he could handle the weight of six dozen cupcakes.
With his assistance, I had the cupcakes stashed and ready to go in half the time it would’ve taken me alone. Whether because I had time to spare, because I wanted to thank him for his help, or because I wanted those extra few minutes in his presence, I didn’t know, but after I closed the door of the truck, I said, “There were a couple of leftovers, if you want to try one.”
His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded so eagerly that I was able to clearly imagine him as one of the first-graders who’d soon be enjoying the bounty I’d made.
“Hell yeah, I’d love to. I mean, if you have enough.”
I snorted and headed back into the guest house. “I can only eat so much peppermint buttercream myself, so you’re saving me from throwing them out. Usually I pass off extras to your parents.”
“My dad must love you,” Theo said as I handed him a cupcake on a pretty little plate I’d found at a thrift store. “Mom’s an amazing cook, but not such a stellar baker. Donottell her I said that.”
“My lips are sealed,” I replied.
I decided to join him and was just putting another cupcake on a plate when I heard him groan with pleasure. It sounded so deeply sexual that muscles I’d forgotten all about clenched in response. When I looked at him, his eyes were closed in an expression of pure bliss.
“Oh, Esther,” he growled, licking a dot of frosting from the corner of his mouth. “Marry me.”
Even though I knew he was joking and rolled my eyes accordingly, I couldn’t deny the swift kick in my pulse at the words. “I could be a serial killer, Theo.”
Something about the comment had his eyes opening, their dark amber depths studying my face intently. To cover my discomfiture, I bit into my cupcake and kept my attention onthe plate in front of me. I had just swallowed when realization struck.
“You’ve been back here for less than a week and already heard the rumor that I killed my husband.”
To his credit, his cheeks grew pink along the edges of his dark beard. “I didn’t believe them, if it’s any consolation.”
It wasn’t. I scowled and muttered, “Only because you didn’t know him.”
For a moment, he went perfectly still and his lips parted, then he grinned as he shook his head. “No, I don’t buy it. Maybe in self-defense, but I can’t see you as a cold-blooded killer.”
“You barely know me,” I protested, then wondered why the hell I was offended by not looking like a murderer.
Theo must have interpreted my disgruntled expression correctly, because now he laughed. “I promise, Esther, I definitely believe you could commit murder if you put your mind to it. Especially if you hid poison in one of these tasty little fellas,” he said, popping the remainder of his cupcake into his mouth. “But what a way to go.”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re kind of a weirdo.”
“Takes one to know one,” he retorted with a wink, then asked, “Do you need help taking those over to the school? It’s a lot to unload on your own.”
This…this was dangerous territory. Ilikedthis guy. He was as attractive as Anita had not-so-subtly promised, he was funny and quirky, and underneath it all, I still sensed the thread of connection that made me want to confess all my deepest secrets to him.
I wouldn’t, of course, but the urge was strong, especially when those golden-brown eyes twinkled at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Before I could stop myself, I nodded. “Sure, if you really have nothing better to do.”
Chapter Five
Theo
I’dexpectedaswift—butpolite—rejection, so I smiled at Esther like a total fool for a solid minute before I finally managed to say, “Right, great.”
Get yourself together!
She raised her brows but said nothing further, not even to tell me I was being weirder than usual. As she locked the guest house behind us and led the way back to the food truck, I wondered what the hell it was about Spruce Hill that brought out my every idiosyncrasy. Down in Asheville, I was calm and collected, polite and professional. People knew me as a reliable guy, prepared for any situation.
Here? I felt like I’d been transported right back to high school, especially when I was around this dark-haired beauty living on my parents’ property.
