“I would suggest getting the strawberry shortcake fudge.” He tilts my chin with his finger. “It’s to die for.” Winking, he steps away and heads toward the door. What in the EVER-LOVING HELL IS HAPPENING? Confused, embarrassed, and slightly turned on, I stare at Beck’s retreating back, walking away as if he’s lived here forever. “So, will that be a pound of strawberry shortcake to go?” Griffin asks from behind me. “Not now, Griffin.”
