Sawyer twisted his lips to keep his smile from blooming again. “Rufus is a rescue dog Flick is trying to rehabilitate. A very bad, very big, collie-Newfoundland cross.”
Kai, normally the fastest bullet on the battlefield, took a moment for that to sink in. He groaned internally.
A dog. Well, hell.
Silence hovered over them until he heard another snicker from Sawyer and an amused snort from someone from the peanut gallery. Flick’s laugh, deep and dirty, followed and smacked him in the solar plexus. They thought he was hilarious.
Kai kept his face impassive but embarrassment nipped. He hadn’t always known how to act like a rational human being when he was the butt of a joke. That wasn’t something they taught at any of the places he’d been a resident of. His default reaction to being dissed had been to let a fist or a foot fly, since handling it gracefully had been left out of his school-of-hard-knocks curriculum.
But he was an adult now . . .
He made himself relax his shoulders and he dredged up a grin. “Well, it’s obvious that whoever is in charge of making sure that I don’t say stupid shit should be fired. Sorry about that.”
Flick’s smile pulled that amazing mouth up and creased the corners of her eyes. “No worries. It was sweet.”
Hell no, he wasn’t sweet. Just like he wasn’t cute.
He’d never been more grateful in his life than when his cell phone chirped from the pocket of his athletic shorts. Pulling it out, he looked at the screen, saw it was the number of his Saudi sheik, and swiped his thumb to answer the call.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” Grateful he turned and headed straight for the door.
As he spoke to the sheik’s assistant, he didn’t know what pissed him off more: the fact that he’d had such an extreme reaction to that woman, that he’d made an idiot of himself, or that he’d left without getting his caffeine or sugar fix.
Probably all three. Equally.
While Sawyer turned back to the counter to pick up his coffee and the paper bag of cupcakes, Flick watched Kai’s very broad shoulders and spectacular butt walk through her bakery's now open door and step outside. Through her sparkling, small-paned windows she saw him shove his phone back into the pocket of his shorts before taking off at a fast jog.
Poetry in frickin’ motion, Flick thought.
Grabbing the edge of the counter, Flick stared down at her boots, trying to make sense of the past ten minutes. Somehow, she felt like she’d just had a scorching sexual encounter in the middle of her bakery in front of all her customers. Could they tell that her nipples had gone hard and that her panties were damp? Could they see the flush of her neck, her torso, everywhere on her body those amazing eyes had touched?
Holy hell.
She’d been concentrating on carrying the overloaded tray of red velvet cupcakes to the counter and she’d nearly tumbled when she looked up and clocked that sexy face and ripped body. Kai had muscles that made smart girls say stupid things; things like “let’s go to bed,” “do me,” and, worst of all, “I love you.” Messy deep-brown hair and a scruffy, week-old beard and those eyes—dear God, his eyes! Rich, hypnotic , and a fantastic shade of gold, so unusual they couldn’t be anything but real. When those eyes connected with hers she swore they just sucked her right on into their own, private porno movie. There was a big, canopied bed with white linen, and she was getting up close and very personal with that muscular body, exploring that six-pack with her tongue, biting into those big biceps, making sure that his butt was as hard as she suspected.
Not that there was anything boy-like about Kai Manning. Like Sawyer, he had a warrior’s body, but his eyes were deeply cynical and just a little sad.
Right; pull yourself together, Felicity. You’ve had your fun, totally objectified him, and now it’s time to take your reality pill, honey.
She could dismiss the gorgeous angles and planes of his face, sort of, and the body (a bit more effort was required, but she could do it), but those skeptical and distrustful eyes made her heart clench.
“Oh, crap.” Flick looked up at Sawyer’s statement and tipped her head when he scrambled to put the two takeout cups back on the counter, dropping the bag next to them. He repeated the phrase when he placed his big hands on her shoulders and peered into her face. “This won’t end well.”
Flick just looked at him, waiting for him to explain. She’d known Sawyer all of her life. He was a close friend of her older brother Jack, so he’d been in and out of her house all of her childhood. And because she considered him to be another brother, she slapped his broad chest to get him to back up. He just planted his feet and stayed where he was—in her face.
“What won’t end well?” she demanded.
“Do not even think about it,” Sawyer warned.
“Think about what?”
“Having anything to do with my partner.” Sawyer dropped his hands from her shoulders and shoved a hand into his hair. Looking around, Flick noticed everyone was listening to their conversation with avid curiosity—gossip must be slow in Mercy today. Sawyer grabbed her hand and pulled her into a corner of the bakery, keeping his broad back to her curious customers.
“Please don’t do this, Flick,” Sawyer said, his green eyes worried. He had such pretty eyes, Flick thought, but she preferred the hauntingly beautiful shade of his friend’s.
“Do what, honey?” Flick widened her eyes, knowing how innocent it made her look.
“That hasn’t worked on me since you were five,” Sawyer muttered. “Do not get any ideas in your head about starting something, anything, with Kai Manning!”