He gives me that grin again—half amusement, half something unreadable—and for a second, I forget how to breathe. There's still that playful edge to him, but now there's a quiet shift, something in his eyes I can't quite name. Like he's suddenly remembering something he wasn't supposed to.
He steps a little closer, slower this time, more careful.
"Hot and dangerous?" I repeat, trying to hide the shake in my voice behind sarcasm. "What a humble combo."
He shrugs, that grin tugging back at his lips. "Well, I was going to say charming and mysterious, but sure—let's go with that."
I narrow my eyes. "You keep dodging my question."
"I do that a lot," he says casually. "Doesn't mean I don't have the answers. Just means I don't give them easily."
There's a beat of silence between us. The kind
