Lexa coughed on the sip of water she’d taken. “Let’s get one thing clear. Ransom Cox has never noticed me. I lack the requisite equipment for him to pay appropriate attention. I’m not blonde. My rack isn’t overly endowed. Oh, and all he ever saw in high school was hockey. I was nerdy, and paid zero attention to anything other than great stories.”
“I have it on good authority that you paid attention to more than just your great stories and books. I know for a fact that you used to practice kissing on your hand and pretend it was Ransom.”
Lexa flushed. “Oh, my God. If you ever tell another living soul that, I will kill you. Kill you, dead. Forever.”
Her sister snorted and laughed even as she scooted out of the way of Lexa’s swats. “Think of your great story. I’m telling you. The man, the myth—”
Oh, God. She gulped in a breath. The man, the myth, the penis legend. The hockey God. All six feet, five inches of ripped muscle, the movie-star face, and badass attitude. Standing in the doorway.
Lexa jumped up out of her seat. Too bad her foot was corded around her bag that she’d tucked under the desk, and she couldn’t get proper placement. And so down she went.
Ella ran in behind Ransom. “Oh, my God, Lex.”
Faceplant in front of the guy you always had a crush on, check. Total lack of career direction, check. Yes, her humiliation was complete. Next to her, Ransom’s deep baritone rumbled. “Are you okay?”
Lexa pushed herself to a sitting position. “Yeah, the only thing hurt is my pride, and my forehead. Pretty sure I scraped my hand, too.”
Behind Ransom, Ella’s jaw hung open. She held her arms about a foot apart, as if to indicate a certain…measurement, then cleared her throat as he picked up her wrist and examined it.
Ransom studied her hand. “Are you sure? There’s no pain when I move it?”
Behind him, Ella grinned widely, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Lexa wanted to die. Matter of fact, if the ground could just open up and swallow her now, that would be awesome. Come on ground. Any moment now. Nothing? Okay, then. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Are you sure about that?” His voice was husky. Low. She’d seen him interviewed enough times in recent years to know that that was just his voice. He didn’t usually say much. But when he did, he always sounded like that. Like he’d just woken up from a long night of sex. Which was the last thing she needed to think about when dealing with Ransom.
Her sister, traitor that she was, called out. “Well, if you’re okay, I’m going to head back to the café. I’m sure the two of you have lots to catch up on. Lex, I’ll send someone over with a sandwich. And that recipe. Though, you might not want to use it for a while. All that garlic. Good to see you, Ransom.”
Lexa groaned. With one faceplant, she’d earned enough humiliation points with her sister for her to hand over that garlic aïoli recipe. Awesome.