His cheeks redden beneath my gaze and a kinder person would move on, pretending that didn’t happen.

“Did you really say that?”

I guess I’m not very kind.

“I honestly regretted it the second the words came out of my mouth. I was hoping you would let it slide.” His smile widens, and I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think it’s the only thing that could distract me from the topic at hand. This must be why hot people get away with so much. They say something stupid, hit you with a smile, all is forgotten. Repeat.

What a vicious cycle.

“Sorry.” I toss the word over my shoulder as we walk back to the storage room. It’s easier to interact with him if I’m not looking directly at him. “One of my more toxic traits is pettiness; I can’t let most things slide.”

Okay.

Is the reason I’m going to be single forever because I loudly—and proudly—announce my toxic traits to virtual strangers within minutes of meeting them? Yeah. One of about a million reasons, actually.

“Good to know,” he says without hesitation. “One of my more toxic traits is enjoying people telling me their toxic traits.”

My feet and not my heart—absolutely not my heart—stutter. Who is this guy?

“Put that on a dating profile,” I half joke before pushing open the door and pointing to the corner with stacked boxes before he can say something else I find amusing. “Your books are over here.”

I let him step in front of me, and not because I want to look at his ass when he bends to pick up the box.

No.

Not at all.

But because I don’t want him to look at mine. Duh.

“Be careful,” I warn as he squats down to grab the biggest box. “Don’t get hurt. I have enough things going on with the store, I can’t deal with a lawsuit because you lift with your back and not your legs.”

He stops moving and looks over his shoulder. His eyebrows knit together and questions linger behind his eyes. I think over what I said and realize I might’ve shared way, way, way too much information. All I need is for Jasper Williams, Author, to be convinced I’m running some sort of shady business out of here. The Dirty Birds would make my life a living hell.

Well, more of a living hell.

I open my mouth to defend my honor and probably share some more information he doesn’t need, but he speaks first.

“Are you questioning my form?” The confusion on his face vanishes in an instant. He arches a single eyebrow, looking nowhere as cool as the Rock, but also not looking as ridiculous as he should. “I’ll have you know, I do CrossFit. This is perfect form.”