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“It’s a passion, Brody. Something you’d know nothing about.”

He raised his brows. Hang on, had I just said that? Accused one of the most dedicated and intense players in the NHL of not understanding passion? Those raised brows had now descendedand drew together in a scowl. It was time to make my escape before I said something I’d regret even more.

“Anyway, I have to go. Cars to clean and windshields to fill.”

He stared at me like I had two heads, and my cheeks simmered. Had the power of sensible speech left me, too?

I fumbled for my bag and stood. But no sooner had I left the seat then a loud “thrrrrrruppp” emanated from the cushion beneath me. Brody’s eyes widened, and the whole pancake family turned to glare.

“Disgusting,” the dad muttered.

At that moment, my heart and pride withered away to a crust.

Brody fought a smile. “Are you okay? Do you need to get some air?”

“I swear, it’s the seat,” I ground out, sending an angry “thank you very much” to St Teresa, patron saint of upholsterers, for her lack of care.

Brody stood, too. “If you say so, but maybe you want to cut back on the cinnamon.”

With my cheeks on fire, I twisted away from him, but the slightest touch to my arm turned me back around. A rush of goosebumps streaked across my skin.

“Will I see you later?” he asked.

Ignoring the shiver that ran through me, I struck what I hoped was a nonchalant air. “Maybe, if you’re home.” I threw my bag over my shoulder, weighing up whether I should just garotte him with the handles and be done with it.

“Great. Your gran was talking about making something special for dinner tonight. Kind of like a welcome home meal for the returning hero.”

I exited the booth and headed for the door. But not before throwing a remark over my shoulder. “What did she have in mind? Humble pie?”

“Ouch,” Brody hissed behind me.

Eve had positioned herself at the end of the counter to get the best vantage point of the “farty” booth. As we passed, she gave Brody a ridiculous wave, then gestured to me, holding a fictitious phone to her ear. I nodded back. I didn’t doubt Eve would want a full debrief, farts and all. She gave me a thumbs up before doing a little happy dance, almost knocking over a stack of napkins.

Yep, it was definitely time to leave.

Brody stepped forward and held the door open for me. He trailed me to where I’d left Daisy Three leaning against the wall. I righted her, then threw my leg over the high crossbar. It was hardly a delicate move, but Daisy was a man’s bike. Gran always said I should get something a little more feminine, but I didn’t wear skirts, and lowly gas pump attendants couldn’t be choosers.

“Goodbye, Brody.” I made to pull away, but his lemony scent carried on the air, and suddenly, his proximity was all I could focus on. I dared a quick peek at him, my breath running shallow in my chest. Why did he have to look so gorgeous all the time? It was hard to be pissed at someone with such great cheekbones.

He didn’t reply, but before I set off, he reached out and held onto my front basket, stopping me in my tracks.

Brody leveled me with one of his drop-dead stares. “Before you go, I just want to get something straight in my mind. You crochetanddate all the single men in town?”

I cocked what I hoped was a challenging eyebrow at him.

One side of his lips peaked. “I thoughtIhad a reputation. But something’s just occurred to me. I’m single, andI’m in town right now. When can I expect my invitation?”

The tiniest smirk danced on his lips. Gently mocking but oh so sexy. What I wouldn’t give to kiss it away. “You don’t count, Brody.”

I tugged Daisy Three backward, breaking the hold he had on her. He stepped back, chuckling and holding his hands up in mock submission.

Clamping my jaw tight, I pulled onto the road. Three rotations of my pedals later, I turned back over my shoulder to check he wasn’t following. I’m not sure what I expected. He would hardly sprint along the road beside me, declaring his undying love in front of the whole town.

No. He was leaning against the wall of the diner. He had his hands in his pockets, massive forearms glowing in the sun, and the sexiest grin known to man all over his mouth.

An ache sprung low, low down in my gut, but I stifled the feeling and turned my eyes back to the road. He was just a friend. A childhood crush and a tease. And no matter how heavenly he looked or how much I liked the idea, there was no way I could trust myself on a date with Brody Flockhart. Not ever.

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