Sporting (Unleashed Romance #3) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,7

you know what would be great?”

Sydney sends him a sly look. “What’s that, little bro?”

“If you moved along,” he says. “Jenna and I have a lot to discuss.”

I study him, his expression is serious, his jaw set. No blushing. What happened when he was fifteen?

Sydney taps the side of her nose at him. “Got it. As you were.” She leans down to my ear. “I just love embarrassing him. Big sister’s privilege.” She moves on to check on the next table, doing her manager thing.

I risk a look at Eli. What’s so embarrassing from when he was fifteen? Did it have to do with me? I was seventeen at the time and very involved in school activities and going out with my friends. I don’t remember anything happening involving him.

He leans across the table and whispers, “She’s so irritating, you can admit it. I won’t tell her.”

My lips curve up. “She used to say the same about you.”

“True back then, but most younger brothers live for that stuff.” His voice turns husky. “Do you find me irritating now, Jenna?”

I swallow hard. His eyes search mine. He wants to know if I find him appealing now. Too damn much.

I glance across the room, catching Sydney’s eye. Her brows lift in question.

I turn back to Eli, trying not to look too interested. “What happened when you were fifteen?”

He leans back in his seat. “Nothing at all.”

I lean across the table, keeping my voice low. “Then what was she implying? Did it have to do with me?”

He lifts one large shoulder in a careless shrug. “Who knows?” He goes back to eating his turkey sandwich.

There must’ve been something, but I drop it. I can always ask Sydney later. Still, I feel uneasy sitting here with him while Sydney hovers nearby. Like I’m doing something wrong.

I lean forward and whisper, “We probably should’ve gone somewhere else for lunch.”

“Next time,” he murmurs.

There’s a promise in those words that brings a flush of heat to my entire body. Our gazes lock for a charged moment, and every nerve ending springs to life. I tear my gaze from his and take a long drink of iced tea. I remind myself why I’m here. I messed up his car, can’t afford to fix his car or mine, and need to work something out. This is not a date.

“I’d like to pay you in installments,” I say. “I’ll write up a payment schedule and sign something to make it official. I’ll pay interest too.”

“That sounds good, minus the interest. So what made you leave computers for cupcakes?”

His voice is rich like chocolate—deep and warm—wrapping around me. I could listen to that voice all day long.

“Jenna?” He sounds amused.

I jolt out of my wayward thoughts. “Sorry. Uh, interest. Yes, I definitely need to pay that. It’s the least I can do, considering the accident was my fault.”

“No interest. Those are my terms. Now answer the question. I want to know about you.”

I rub the side of my neck, my lashes fluttering down. “Thank you.”

He tips my chin up with one finger, giving me a slow, sexy smile that melts my insides. “What made you trade computers for cupcakes?”

He really does want to get to know me, and I find I want to share.

“Well, after spending six years configuring hardware, software, and networks, all while responding to every tech crisis, I felt like my soul was dying. The only thing that made me happy was baking on the weekends. I took some night classes, learning more about pastry and baking, and started to realize this is all I want to do. I want to create delicious confections that make people happy.”

He smiles, and it lights up his handsome face. “So making people happy makes you happy.”

“It does. God knows, I never made people happy fixing networks. They expect it to work at all times, freak when it doesn’t, and then when you fix it, they blame you for it breaking down in the first place. Cupcakes and brownies are much more forgiving.”

“Do you have anything healthy on the menu?”

“Absolutely. My carrot cupcakes offer one-fourth of your daily serving of carrots.”

He chuckles, his hazel eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’ll stop by.”

“You might also like my cider doughnuts.”

He jabs a finger at me. “Don’t even go there with a cop and doughnuts joke.”

I laugh. “Sorry. It’s just part of my seasonal menu.”

We smile at each other for a moment before going back to lunch, eating in companionable silence. I relax. He’s safe, in a