She’s right about one thing. There is something here. I feel the draw, too. She’s temptation incarnate. And no way in hell am I giving in to her. I don’t know much about her, but I can tell she’s not the type a guy walks away from. She’s the type that’ll ruin me.

I let myself linger between her thighs and take one last deep breath of her scent before I growl, “That’s not happening.”

I clasp on her waist, squeezing tighter than needed as I drag her off the counter and shove her away. She gasps at the forcefulness of my rejection. I turn my back on her, ignoring the daggers her eyes are throwing.

“Okay. The hard way it is, Mr. Bennett.”

The cheerfulness in her voice is unnerving.

Chapter Six

Jessie

I’m wearing him down. I can feel it. A week in and he’s still surly as hell, but he doesn’t pull away when I ‘accidentally’ brush up against him. Repeatedly. Rob has kept his end of our secret deal, staying away from the shop and forcing Devin to work with me.

I’ve never been the girl who chases after a guy. It’s not like boys are falling at my feet. Okay, some are. But I’ve never had to worry about getting a date. Maybe that’s why I never tried with any of them—knowing I could have them if I wanted made it not worth the effort. Devin is different. A challenge. He’s like a drug. I’m addicted to being around him. I’ve never felt this kind of chemistry before. This attraction. He feels it too, even if he refuses to admit it.

We’re crammed into the tiny back office, poring over invoices for the millionth hour. The masculine smell of him consumes me. A mix of soap, gasoline and determination—he smells clean but somehow still gritty. The surface may be scrubbed down, but underneath he’s all raw manliness.

I shake off the fog of girlish infatuation and stare down at my notebook. The word dirty stares back at me. Don’t remember writing that. I swallow the lump in my throat and scratch out the word rattling around in my subconscious. Devin side-eyes me and I shift in my chair. I flip the page for good measure.

“How many hours a week do you waste trying to read Mikey’s handwriting?” I ask, refocusing us on the nonsensical scribble.

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Too many to count.”

I can’t help but giggle. He looks up at me with those tired eyes and my cheeks start to flame. I snap my eyes to the blank page in my notebook and write invoices.

“And all your invoices are handwritten?” I ask without risking a look up at him.

“Yeah.” Devin leans back, the old office chair creaking under his large body. He interlocks his fingers and slides them behind his head. His strong arms and broad chest are like a welcome mat, beckoning me. Jesus, I want to climb into his lap, bury my face in his chest and take a deep breath of Devin’s unique smell. I might give it a shot if I thought there was even a small chance he would do anything but push me away and pat me on the head. I’ve never had a guy be less interested in me than Devin pretends to be. Still, that tic in his jaw makes me think he’s not unaffected.