I shivered, a warm chill racing down my spine, then snapped my fingers. “I’ve got it.”

“I doubt it.”

“Natalie Portman.” She was stunning, smart, and favored pixie cuts on occasion. I was either on the money or totally off base.

His mouth dropped, and he glared at me. “Cheater.”

I clapped my hands together. “Yes! I love winning.”

He growled, a low rumble that resonated deep in my chest. “How in the hell did you guess that?”

“I’m a genius,” I said. “You’ll learn this.”

He grinned, but defeat was clear in his eyes.

“She’s in a movie with mine.” I dropped the hint he’d been asking for and he perked up.

“I already said Chris Hemsworth.”

“Do you think I only watch superhero movies?”

“Is it bad to say that I like you more because I know you do?”

I chuckled. Sure, I favored the Marvel and DC universes, but I liked other movies, too. I was sure of it.

“Ugh,” he said. “Not that French guy from the swan movie.”

“No.” I sighed. “Maybe you should give up.”

“Never.” The finality in the word shot sparks across my skin. Or maybe it was the way he gazed at me, his attention fully on me in a way I’d never seen before. Brandon had rarely been this tuned in, unless he…

Flashes of his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, the kisses I’d given him willingly, twisted like sharp bits of metal in my mind.

“Pixie,” Dean said, his fingers over my hand. “Where’d you go?”

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him, I was that lost in my head.

Luckily, I stopped the admission on my tongue. The confession of what robbed me so many times of my train of thought I couldn’t keep up.

“Nowhere,” I said, glancing down at his hand on mine. A friendly gesture—comforting and warm and enough to stop the ice that had formed in my veins.

“Someday,” he said, drawing his hand back, “I hope you’ll tell me.”

“Tell you what?” I asked, my voice coming out as a whisper.

He leaned down on the counter so that he was eye level with me. So close I could smell him over the espresso scent that filled the shop. My mouth watered.

“What’s eating at you.”

I shrugged off his too-perceptiveness.

He sighed, standing straight again, so tall I had to look up to meet his eyes. “It’s not our challenge, is it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good,” he said. “I’d never want to cause you that kind of strain.”

I swallowed hard. Damn him, he really could see through me. How did he get so perceptive? Was it from growing up with a sister? Did Tessa give him insight into the female mind or was he just good at seeing…me?

“Dean,” I said. “You really don’t have to…to worry about me.”