Page 44 of Falling Offsides
“You’re impossible,” I murmur as I wrap my hand around the takeout cup.
Oh my, a spark races up my arm when our fingers brush. And suddenly, I can’t breathe. Or think. I’m frozen still waiting for what’s next.
“So I’ve been told.” Auguste’s eyes flick to mine. Hooded and gorgeous, blinking behind the coarse curl that falls over his forehead.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so beautiful. His eyebrows are just the right kind of thick and bushy, perfectly masculine and shapely. Even the bump on the bridge of his nose has character.
“So, uuh…” Auguste hesitates for a millisecond, his hand releasing the coffee cup I’m clutching and ruffling the top of Samson’s head. “You wanna come help me pick out some of his stuff?”
I should say no. I should shut this down. But Samson snuggles into my chest like he owns me. And if Auguste didn’t know what to call him, will he know what he should get for him?
“Yeah… okay,” I whisper. Then, on impulse, I add, “You might as well come in while I get ready.”
He balks when I open my door and head inside.
“Are you a vampire?”
“No?” he says quietly, confused.
“So why are you still waiting out there like you need an invite to come in?”
Auguste chuffs, shaking his head down at the floor as he comes in and shuts the door quietly behind him.
Inside, Samson wiggles free of my arms to explore. Auguste trails behind me like he’s been here before. And the thing is—he moves likehe has. Like he knows exactly where to slip off his shoes and where to set the cake. It pricks at something in my chest, but I push it down.
While I head to the bed, I glance over my shoulder. “Make yourself at home.”
Auguste just nods, grabbing Samson before he races after me. I steal another quick glance at them before I disappear down the corridor to the bedrooms. The vastness of the apartment has shrunk with them here. That too big feeling is engulfed by Auguste’s presence and I like it too much.
Being around him.
Near him…
So much so that I rush through my showering routine. Instead of spending longer on my unruly hair, I bunch the top half into a high, loose ponytail that skims my jawline when it cascades around my face. The bottom half, I scrunch with some frizz, leaving it loose down the back of my sundress.
By the time I walk back out into the open plan living area, the scent of sugar and coffee has my mouthwatering.
I can’t get over how different the apartment feels as I look for Auguste. He’s outside on the large wraparound balcony when I find him.
There are two plates of cake on the outdoor table. My coffee has been split between two cups.
I don’t stop myself from appreciating the sight of him leaning back in one of the armchairs with Samson on his lap as I step out slowly. The city sprawls beneath us, ocean visible beyond the skyline. Golden light paints everything honey.
Auguste looks up when I snap a sneaky photo on my phone. He just looks so pretty in the glow of the sun. His light brown skin is luminescent and smooth. Begging to be touched.
“Hungry?” He asks with a quirk of his brow.
My face is blushed hot as I pull out the chair opposite his and sink into it. “Starving.”
We eat in silence at first. The nice, easy kind that feels like it belongs in the moment.
I take a bite of the cake and pause.
Okay, Broussard!
The cake is good. Like, really good. Dense and moist, and just the right kind of sweet. The kind that has you going back for more.
“Okay,” I say after a second bite, eyes narrowing at him when I findhim watching me with an awed grin. “There’s no way this is your first time baking.”
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