Can’t Help Falling In Love by Mariah Ankenman

Luc Woolf sat at the table, a smart-ass grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

The smooth, deep voice washed over her like silk. She would not laugh at his ridiculous attempt at humor. But damn it all, she felt the curve of her lips as a smile she couldn’t seem to stop, turned them up.

“Damn small towns.”

He chuckled. “I thought you owned a bar?”

“I do.”

“But you’re a server on the side?” He tilted his head. “There a large abolition following in Kismet I’m not aware of?”

“No. The distillery does great. So great in fact that we expanded into a restaurant. One of the servers had an emergency and needed her shift covered.”

Dark brows rose. “And the boss filled in?”

“We’re a family run establishment.” She shrugged. “It’s what you do when your family needs help. You help.”

Something passed through his eyes. Respect. She had no idea why, but it made a warm fuzzy feeling rise in her stomach. Luc seemed to understand and even applaud her actions of the evening. Stupid. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought.

Then why was her heart suddenly racing?

“So,” he grabbed his menu again, breaking the moment. “What’s good here?”

“Everything. And I don’t just say that because I co-own the joint. Our chef is amazing. What do you like?”

“I’m not picky.”

He said that, but they were half an hour away from Denver. Hipster central. Trends took off like wildfire in the city and spread like the plague to the small tourists’ towns like Kismet. Currently they’d had to accommodate for everything from Paleo to gluten free patrons. She had no problem catering to a customer who had a food allergy, but she really hated the bandwagon eaters who fussed and complained because they were strictly gluten free and then ordered a piece of cheesecake with graham cracker crust.

“No allergies? No weird fad diets?”

“Do I look like I do fad diets?” He arched one eyebrow.

No, he did not. In fact, the man looked like he ate steel for breakfast and iron for dinner. A dark V-neck sweater clung tight to his chest revealing just a hint of chest hair. The sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, revealing tightly muscled forearms. Damn, had she ever found forearms sexy before? She did tonight.

“A meat and potatoes kind of guy?” Her mouth felt too dry. She swallowed, trying for the life of her to find some saliva. “Our steak is amazing, but if you prefer fish, we have a great salmon with dill sauce.”

He held the menu in his fingers, but his gaze focused on her. “It all sounds amazing.”

Her breath caught in her throat, brain blanking. How did this guy render her speechless with just a look? It wasn’t fair. No one should be that sexy.

“Um, yeah. It is.” Clever Charlie. “What can I bring you?”

He placed the menu at the edge of the table, eyes never leaving hers. “You pick.”

“What?”

“You own the place. You know what’s best. You pick something for me.”

Shaking herself out of whatever weird fog she’d been in, she laughed. “You want me to pick your meal.” He nodded. Licking her lips, she placed her hand on the table and leaned down. “How do you know I won’t poison you?”

He wasn’t exactly her favorite person, and she’d made no bones about it. He leaned toward her until they were inches apart. She could smell the sharp mint of his breath, feel its warmth on her lips and cheeks. Her blood began to heat, heart racing in her chest. This was ridiculous! She should not react this way to a man who’d done nothing but annoy the crap out of her since the moment she ran into him.

“You do need me to sign off on your anger management course. If I suddenly die after eating at an establishment you own it might look pretty sketchy to the judge,” he said the words in a teasing tone, the dimple in his cheek catching her eye at his wide grin.

Laughter bubbled out of her. “True. Plus, it’d be a shame to poison all that sexy.”

The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to shove them back in.

Surprise lifted his brow. “You think I’m sexy?”

Embarrassment flooded her, so she did what she always did when she felt insecure. She pushed away from the table, crossing her arms over her chest, and brought out her trademark sarcasm. “Don’t fish for compliments. You own a damn mirror.”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charlie.”