Chapter 12 #2
I cleared my throat as I leaned down to pick up the bowl, pretending like nothing happened. "So, we'll tag team this and knock out two or three dozen chocolate chip cookies in enough time for you to go home and get ready."
"Let's do this." He clapped his hands together, sending up a small cloud of flour.
"Okay," I said, scanning my finger down the recipe. "Let's start with flour," I pointed to the bowl in front of him.
"I need you to measure carefully," I said, watching him fumble with the measuring cups. "Precision matters."
"I'm usually pretty good with my hands."
"Uh-huh." I watched him overshoot the flour measurement. "Is that what you tell all the girls?"
"Only the ones I'm trying to impress." His eyes didn't leave mine. "Is it working?"
I laughed.
"And the ones teaching me their secret recipes."
"This isn't exactly a secret recipe. It's chocolate chip cookies."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Maybe. But I'm not really here for the cookies."
I couldn't help but smile as I walked away, letting him work on his part, and I started on my part.
"So, do you live close to your family?" I asked as I worked to preheat the oven, our backs to each other.
"Uh, yeah, kind of," he said. "My brother Niko owns CrossFit Tampa, about three blocks from here. He lives with his wife, Leilani, and their mini tornadoes, I mean, kids, on Davis Island. My parents and my sister fled to Miami a few years ago after my dad retired from wrestling."
"Your dad was a wrestler, too?"
"Yeah, for twenty years. My grandparents moved here from Samoa when my mom was young, and my grandfather was also a wrestler. That's how my parents met."
"Wow!" I jabbed the start button on the oven like I was defusing a bomb. "Does your brother wrestle too?"
"No. Wrestling was never Niko's thing." Matt grinned. "He was more of a pose in tiny shorts and a spray-tanned kind of athlete. Did bodybuilding for a while, but now he's happy running his gym and pretending he's not terrified of his three-year-old."
He paused for a moment, like he was concentrating on something.
"Speaking of my brother…" I twisted, and so did he, our chests bumping each other in the small space.
I stumbled back, but Matt's hands flew out, circling me and landing on my ass.
He pulled me hard against him, and it was suddenly hot and hard to breathe.
"Sorry," he smirked. He wasn't sorry, and neither was I. "Are you okay?"
I nodded as my gaze lifted to meet his, and I burst out laughing. He was covered in flour. His brows pulled tightly together. "Did you get any flour in the bowl?"
"It's all over my face, isn't it?" Releasing me, he swiped at his cheek, managing to spread more flour instead of cleaning it.
"Well, you look like you lost a fight with a bag of flour." I grabbed a paper towel. "Which is embarrassing, considering flour doesn't usually fight back."
"Hey, that flour came out of nowhere. Sneak attack." He grinned, white powder still dusting his eyebrows. "Good thing my wrestling opponents can't see me now, there goes my intimidation factor."
"Oh, I don't know. The Flour Phantom has a nice ring to it."
I turned to grab a paper towel, and he laughed. "What?" I flicked a glance over my shoulder and realized what he was looking at… my ass. My hands dropped to my butt, but his large fingers wrapped around my wrist. "What is it?"
"My handprints," Matt murmured, his voice low and rough. His thumbs ghosted over the pulse point in my wrist. I bit my lip, fighting a shiver.
My shoulders sagged with relief. His hands had been covered in flour, and I wore black leggings. I hated that my mind always tended to dwell on the worst-case scenario. I had no reason to think he was laughing at me or mocking me, and yet that was where my mind always went. "I like them there."
I ducked my head, feeling the warmth creep up my neck and flood my cheeks.
His gentle grip on my wrist sent sparks dancing along my skin as he turned me to face him.
My gaze lifted, slowly meeting his, and my chest rose and fell with deep breaths as something electric passed between us.
Heat billowed through me as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face and sliding it behind my ear.
I cleared my throat. "You, uh, were saying something about your brother."
"Right." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving flour streaks like war paint. "My brother is having a cookout tonight, and he invited me and you to come."
"He invited me specifically?"
He nodded. "I may have told him about you."
"You told your brother about me?" I couldn't hide the shock on my face.
"You seem surprised."
"I guess I am," I smiled softly. "We just met and…"
"I like you," he said. "I know you need some time because you just got out of a really bad marriage. I know you need reassurance that I really do like you. I'm willing to wait, and I am going to prove to you that I am not him."
My eyes went suspiciously misty, probably from the pollen, definitely not from the way Matt was looking at me like I was the last cupcake at a bake sale. I blinked furiously, because crying in front of a guy this gorgeous would violate at least three of my post-divorce rules.
Matt stood there with his annoyingly perfect jawline and those stupid, kind eyes that made me want to melt, like actually melt into them.
How was it possible that someone who looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover was interested in me, a woman who'd recently had a fifteen-minute argument with her cat and lost?
The little voice in my head, which sounded suspiciously like my father, whispered that I was going to mess this up.
That the woman I'd become after the divorce, the one who ate cereal for dinner and talked to her houseplants, would somehow sabotage this beautiful, terrifying possibility standing right in front of me.
But then Matt smiled that crooked smile that made my stomach do little somersaults, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, I deserved something good.
"I would love to meet your brother," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.
"Yeah?" I nodded. "Okay, then, let's get these cookies done."
We worked together for the next hour and a half.
Each time Matt's arm brushed mine, a jolt of electricity raced through me.
His flirtatious smiles made my stomach flutter, and every accidental touch left me craving more.
But with each moment of connection, I felt myself teetering on a cliff, the exhilaration of falling, fighting the paralyzing fear of hitting the ground.