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My defensive reaction is weird, too. I’m the one who put those pictures in there. I wanted people to see the beauty in it so that Asher could get that secondhand glow-up from it. Now I have a problem with it? What’s got into me today?

I don’t know why this guy can push my buttons so hard. Maybe I should close after all. He seems bad for my mental health in all the right and wrong ways. He’s just browsing anyway.

Forget a possible sale. I’m ready to escort him out like he’s a squatter. I can vent to my coworker tomorrow about the weirdness that happened. Make a joke out of it.

“Did you freehand those? They’re different from the beginning of the portfolio.” He continues speaking as I start cleaning up in the hopes of leaving.

If I pretend to be busy, I don’t have to look at his pretty face and get distracted by my hormones. That has to be the problem.

“Yup,” I answer rudely, so he can get another hint to leave.

“I want one. Freehand.”

I glance over my shoulder at him with a frown. He sounds determined to get it done. A mark that will be on him for life. I’d think he’s getting ahead of himself, but the way he looked around so thoroughly, I’m not sure. He’s definitely a contradiction.

I waver on getting him to leave with one look at his eyes.

“That will take some time to design. Have you check it-”

“No,” he interrupts me and raises a brow. “Whatever you put on me, I’ll like. Flowers. And I don’t want to see it until it’s done.”

That’s ballsy. I could put whatever I wanted on there, and he wouldn’t have a clue until it was too late.

This whole interaction is escalating with weird vibes. My discomfort takes a backseat so my curiosity can take the helm.

Well, if he has the balls to go all in, so do I. I do need the money.

Meh, I’ll be honest with myself. I want him under the gun and squirming around just to see if he has something underneath that calm he’s maintaining.

His eyes are telling another story about him. One that contradicts everything he’s shown me so far.

“Where you thinking?” I raise an eyebrow back at him.

“Chest to lower stomach,” he tells me with a tilt to his head as if he’s testing me.

Considering the various places I’ve had to look at for hours on the human body, it’s a weak test. I need a better idea of the expanse I’m covering.

“Feel comfortable showing me?” I prop a fist on my hip.

“You? Yes.”

I blink at his firm words as he moves to the flimsy door separating the front from the back. He’s comfortable with my suddenly snarky attitude? Enough to take his shirt off for me. I’m not going to complain. In the end, I’m reaping all the rewards here.

He looks at the swinging door and then back at me without crossing.

“Come on back,” I smirk at his manners. A lot of people would just stomp back here as if they owned the place. Not this guy.

It’s nice to see a man with manners and handsome to boot.

I’m trying to set myself up in business mode, ready to see what he wants as I lead him behind one of the privacy curtains. He has other ideas.

As soon as we’re out of sight, he takes his shirt off. No hesitation or awkwardness. It surprises me. I would have pegged him as a show the bare minimum to be mysterious guy.

He holds the shirt in one hand and starts working on the button of his pants with the other. I have to swallow because the amount of drool that builds in my mouth might drown me.

He is roped with muscle. Even his chest hair has that maroon sheen I can’t describe. My eyes follow the happy trail of hair to its end as he pulls his pants open just enough to pique my interest at the well-trimmed hair there. This is a seduction I wasn’t ready for. I am so here for it, though.

That feeling dies a quick death when I see what he wants covered.