Page 13 of Sugar

After a long minute—and likely several stolen kisses in the entryway—Greer came into the kitchen, hefting a giant bundle of roses.

“For my apartment,” she choked out.

Roses were her least favorite flower in the universe, but the gesture was still there. And he’d really gone overboard with it, so I smiled at her doting not-boyfriend when he followed her into the room.

“Those are gorgeous.” Eve’s sentence ended in a happy gasp when Josh presented her a smaller bundle from behind his back. “You’re so sweet.”

“And making me look bad,” Doug joked with a chuckle as he moved to grab a crystal vase from a high cabinet for his wife.

Since I was doing my best to avoid another disaster, I kept my distance at the farthest corner of the island and returned to the imperative task of making my perfect pizza. I was so locked in, I didn’t even realize anyone was nearby until a warm hand lightly pressed against the bare skin of my exposed lower back.

I inhaled sharply. Rather than the acrid body spray most guys bathed in, the cologne that filled my nostrils was mellow and smoky with subtle hints of vanilla. Or maybe caramel? I didn’t know, but I wanted to bury my nose in the scent to find out.

There was no way he didn’t notice me jolt at his touch. Or feel the tremor that went through me when his rough voice rumbled in my ear. “Excuse me.”

His arm reached around me to grab the serving dish of pepperoni. Other than the barely-there graze of his palm, he didn’t touch me anywhere else. His body wasn’t even that close to mine. But it seemed like it. My breath froze in my lungs at the sensation of being surrounded.

Of being vulnerable.

He quickly moved out of my space again, taking his touch with him, but my reaction was slower to fade. My heart hammered in my chest. My brain buzzed. I had the irrational urge to demand he move back into the spot, but thankfully I wasn’t that far gone.

I stood with a slice of mushroom gripped between my thumb and index finger as I worked to shake off the inappropriate result of his innocuous action.

“Madeline.” Easton’s voice was quiet, but there was a bite to the single word.

I dropped the mushroom and twisted to look at him.

There was no matching sharpness in his blank expression. “I asked what you’re majoring in.”

God, could this get any worse? I’m acting like I’ve never interacted with another human before.

“Oh, sorry. Journalism.”

He gave a low whistle. “A competitive field.”

“And one that pays tens of dollars. Inconsistently. For hours of work that could end up in a shredder.” I lifted a shoulder. “Who wouldn’t want that?”

His mouth curved, and I realized that other than the trace of a smirk he’d given me earlier, it was the first time he’d smiled. It wasn’t even a full one, but it still skyrocketed his looks into the god-tier category. It made me wonder what he would look like if he truly smiled.

“Your friends, too?” he asked, likely fishing for information to help secure what was surely a hefty retainer.

I respected the hustle, but I wasn’t about to word vomit more than the bare minimum info. “Wren is going for early childhood education, and Greer’s wrapping up her business administration degree.”

He jerked his chin to where the family still spoke together. “Planning to take over her father’s practice?”

I bit back a laugh at the idea of them working together. They would drive each other insane. My dad was one of the calmest people I knew, and even he got annoyed at his partner. Doug was a skilled surgeon, and his charming personality brought in a lot of new patients, but his organization—and I used that term loosely—left a lot to be desired.

Greer and her type-A personality would probably beat her dad over the head with a surgical tray on the first day.

Before lunch.

“That’s a definite no,” I said.

He didn’t get the chance to ask more before Doug cut in with a proud smile. “You talking about my Greer getting ready to kick ass in the corporate world? I tried convincing her to take pity on her old man, but she has no interest in whipping my practice into shape.”

“Because I’m not a miracle worker,” Greer teased.

“It was a few centuries ago,” Easton deadpanned, “but my BS was also in business administration from Coastal. Do you know what you want to do once you graduate?”