enforced ninety days of torture turned into more of an…interesting vacation? One that she wasn’t ready to walk out on?
Or was it the people here that she wasn’t ready to leave?
*
Alex pushed up the sleeves of his forest-green crew-neck sweater. It exposed veiny forearms with dark hair that made Sydney’s mouth water.
Forearms were her sexual Kryptonite.
A body part always obviously more masculine with the hair and broadness and competence they exuded. That stretch of arm between his fancy black and gold watch and where his sweater bunched in the crook of his elbow was everything sexy to her. Pecs and washboard abs were all well and good. The forearms, however, were the door that invited you in to all the other stuff.
Coming to a make-your-own pizza place had been a brilliant idea, if she did say so herself. The seven-hundred-degree wood-burning oven not only banished the mid-January cold, but also forced Alex to show off her favorite bits.
“Why can’t they regulate the temperature in here? I’m burning up,” he groused.
“Well, our table is close to the oven. See all that wood and bright orange fire?” she teased.
“We should ask for a different one.”
The grumpy mood was quickly eclipsing the studliness of his forearms. Was it already so onerous a task to fake-date her, after only two weeks?
Technically, that was his right. Alex was the one doing her the favor. But common courtesy should count for something. She’d give him one more chance to be a decent human.
“Alex, it’s Saturday night.” Sydney stated the fact with all the patience in the world. “This place is SRO. If you want a different table, we’ll probably have to wait half an hour for it. Just take off your sweater.” She could see the neckline of a button-down shirt underneath. It should be a no-brainer.
“That solves my problem, not yours. You can’t strip off your top.” He waved a hand at her deep purple argyle sweater. Its low-vee neck made it easy to see that Sydney was not layered up like him.
Unless a fancy—and probably too aspirational—black and purple lace bra counted as a layer.
“I’m not the one complaining about the temperature!” Whoops. A whole lot of impatience vented itself with those louder-than-intended words.
“God. I’m sorry. I’m being a beast.” Alex scrubbed his palms up and down his face, as if trying to wipe away his gruffness.
“I won’t disagree,” she said with more sweetness than a jelly doughnut.
“I’m in a foul mood. I thought I’d washed it away with my shower. Instead, it just nested in my brain, waiting to go off like a ticking bomb of brutishness.”
“You redeemed yourself a little bit just now with the alliteration?” Sydney held her breath, hoping he’d get the humor. If he didn’t? They’d give up their table right now and call the night a bust.
Alex stared at her. His eyes started to squint, and she was positive that was a harbinger of an explosion.
And it was.
Of laughter.
He laughed and laughed, so hard and so long that he had to grab on to the edge of the rough-hewn wooden table.
When he finally got himself under control, he took off his sweater and draped it over the back of the chair. “Thank you. Both for the common-sense suggestion and your patience with my crap mood.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying patient much longer,” Sydney confessed. Better for him to know that her tolerance only went so far.
“I should hope not. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my frustration.” He skated his fingers through his hair, resettling what the sweater removal had disturbed. It gave the careful gel at front a less polished, more rugged look.
More of a lying in bed on a Sunday morning look.
Yum.
Sydney put both of her hands in her lap to keep from carrying through on the urge to reach over and tousle all that thick brown hair that glinted red at the tips from the fire’s glow.
“Oh, I’m perfectly happy to listen while you vent about whatever caused your frustration. As long as you don’t take it out on me.”
“Duly noted. Again, I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
“Also duly noted,” Sydney said with a small grin. “Getting it off your chest with me is probably safer than letting loose with your partners. Because I assume this is all inn-related?”
“Seeing as how that’s my entire life now, in a word, yes.”
His ‘yes’ was so emphatic that it almost blew out the candle sticking out of a raffia-covered Chianti bottle in the center