His words were like a breeze on a late summer evening—warm and unsettling, making her skin prickle with heat.
Sydney Sawyer's mouth fell open. For a moment, she was at a loss for words, feeling as if his comment had sent her head spinning.
BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP—
Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst from her chest.
Her hand, moments ago cooled by the ice pack, now grew warm and slick with sweat.
He held it gently, and not only did her hand feel hot, but her face also flushed a deep crimson.
Sydney Sawyer grew flustered and anxious.
'Who wants to call you uncle? I want to call you my husband. Would you even dare to answer?'
"Technically, I'm not really related to the Wyatt family. You don't have to call me 'uncle' just because Andrea Wyatt does. Besides, we aren't that far apart in age."
Sydney Sawyer nodded. But if she was supposed to change what she called him, she had no idea what to say instead.
