But that isn’t going to happen right now because the “contract” Aaron and Tyler went to look over was apparently a very short one. Now, Tyler’s leaning against the counter in the corner of the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest. I don’t want to look, but I do. I look at the way his T-shirt stretches over his shoulders and biceps and the way the material rises slightly where it should meet his jeans.
More than that, though… More than the way he looks and his alluring presence, it’s the way he looks at me. Steadily. Certainly. Yet his gaze holds a spark of wanting I feel echoed in my own body.
I pull my eyes away from him at Aaron’s cough. But Tyler doesn’t do the same. He keeps staring at me.
“Dayton, we should leave for dinner now.” Aaron’s voice cuts through the silence. Unfortunately, he leaves the tension intact.
“Room for two more?” Tyler questions.
I snap my eyes to him. “I have plans.”
“So cancel them.”
“No.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and watch for his reaction.
“I’m going to get ready,” Dayton mutters, dragging Aaron behind her.
Tyler curves his lips and pushes off from the counter. “No? That’s the first time I’ve heard that word from your mouth.”
Asshole. “Now the answer is definitely no, you pig.”
He rounds the bar and sits on the stool next to me, facing me. He leans in, pushing the boundaries of my personal space. “Come on, Liv. So we fucked. We’ll be seeing each other a lot over the next few months, so we may as well get over it now.”
“Get over it? That would imply that it bothers me.”
He takes a lock of my hair between his finger and thumb and lowers his voice. “So would the flush on your cheeks.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “It’s warm in here.”
Tyler twirls my hair around his finger and half-grins, showing his dimple. “We have to get on for Dayton’s sake. You wouldn’t want to add to the pressure she’s under by having her wonder if the maid of honor and best man are going to spend her day under a cloud of awkwardness, would you?”
“I can’t believe you’re using my best friend against me. You’re a complete and utter jackass.”
“Are you coming to dinner?”
“Against my better judgment.” I slap his hand away from my hair. “But don’t imagine that this is anything more than you wrongly manipulating me into it. So don’t even think about trying to get inside my pants again, because it won’t happen.”
“We’ll see.” He twists around as I stand, and it takes everything I have not to slap his smug smirk off his face.
I put a hand on my hip and stare him down. “I mean it. Don’t even touch me.”
He stands and ignores me, grabbing my arm. With one swift movement, he spins me into him and holds me there. “Really? Because I think you’d like me to touch you very, very much.”
I would. My arm is tingling where his hand is wrapped around it and my body is reacting to the hardness of his. But I won’t let him know it. I won’t push it.
I step back and yank my arm out of his grip. “And I think you’re completely full of yourself.”
Heels clicks against the floor. “Is everything okay?” Dayton asks softly.
I turn and look at her. Aaron is standing behind her, his hand on her back, staring at Tyler. Dayton’s eyes are flicking between us.
“It’s fine,” I answer, grabbing my keys from the bar. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
He watches me the whole time. Like he’s a predator stalking his prey, his eyes are fixated on me. They follow my every move, studying me, evaluating me…memorizing me.
It’s unnerving. But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s not a sinister look or even remotely bad. It’s casual. Intense, but casual. No different than the way you watch the characters move across the stage at the theater.
If only there weren’t something…something…in his gaze that set off a herd of butterflies in my stomach so strong that I can barely eat a thing. Most of my dinner is pushed around my plate, untouched except for the gentle prodding of my fork, and I don’t bother with the pudding.
I won’t eat it.
Aaron asks for the bill, and Dayton squeezes my hand under the table. “I forgot to ask you earlier. Can you come to the cake tasting with me tomorrow? Someone double-booked himself.” Dayton’s eyes slide to Aaron.
“I didn’t double-book anything, sweetheart. I thought the tasting was at one o’clock, not four thirty.”
She makes a disapproving sound. Do I want to go to a cake tasting? No.