There was the smile. “Hi.”
She nodded, wishing his smile didn’t render her momentarily speechless.
“Hi, Owen.” Emily waved, her voice all nervous and pitchy and awkward.
“Hey, Emily.” He turned that smile on Emily.
Which was mean because Emily already looked like she was going to fall off her stool. Now, with the knock-the-air-from-your-lungs smile, it was only a matter of time before she fainted—face-first—onto the asphalt at their feet.
“We have a line,” Honor snapped, earning a soft gasp from Emily.
“I’ve been waiting in it.” His smile never wavered. “I’m next.”
She’d thought the toddler who wouldn’t stop screaming was going to be the hardest of the night. Now she knew better. This was. Definitely. Honor held her breath as he sat in her chair and waited. “What do you want?”
“My face painted.” He was grinning now.
She sat on her stool and leveled what she hoped was a good, solid glare his way. Had her stool always been this close to the chair? She was practically in his lap. “What do you want painted on your face?”
“Whatever you want.” His gaze fell to her lips.
She fought the urge to stick her tongue out. Really? Why was he doing this? He didn’t have to. Her family was too preoccupied to notice what he was or wasn’t doing. He could drag Emily into the bushes and make out with her and no one would be the wiser. Except for her. She would be. And she wouldn’t like it. At all.
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft. “You look pissed off.”
“Nothing.” She stirred her brush with more force than necessary, sloshing water onto the table. Nothing at all. She wasn’t upset about him having a fantasy make-out session with Emily. Not in the least. Because that would be ridiculous. “Seriously, Owen, what am I painting?”
“Whatever you’re best at.” He turned to wink at the toddler in line. “I trust you.”
Honor was momentarily distracted by the sharp angle of his jaw and thick column of his neck. He smelled incredible. He had a mole high on his cheek and the thickest lashes—
He was staring back at her now, unflinching. So much so, it was hard to breathe.
Too close. Way, way too close.
“Owen.” She cleared her throat.
“Honor.” He tilted his head, those hazel eyes flashing.
“Fine.” He wanted to tease her. To make her…squirm? She’d do exactly what he said. She was best at butterflies. And Owen Nelson deserved the best and brightest butterfly ever. She was tempted to do a full face, but that would keep him in her chair, up close and far too personal, for longer than she was prepared to handle.
“Let’s do this.”
In order to paint a person’s face, she had to lean in. Sometimes, on an adult, she’d stand to get a better angle. Owen was tall, so she was standing. But that put things in awkward places. Every time she leaned in, he took a sharp little breath. She hadn’t touched him, wouldn’t touch him, but something was definitely bothering him because he was sitting, eyes closed, hands gripping the arms of her chair.
The butterfly was beautiful.
With long, black antennae, massive wings in brilliant rainbow hues, and—because it was a girl butterfly—she had to have rosy cheeks and long eyelashes. It was so pretty, she decided to add a flower on the side of his nose. And, just to make it perfect, sprinkled the whole thing with iridescent glitter.
“Um, Honor.” Emily was horrified.
Looking at it now, on his gorgeous face, she was a little horrified, too. She’d gone too far. It was too late to wipe it off. Everyone had seen it.
“Done?” he asked, his eyes popping open.
She stared down at him. “I guess so.” But she didn’t offer him the mirror. In fact, she hid it behind her back and stepped away. “I should probably apologize.”