Page 121 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“You did.” I nod.

We keep our gazes locked. I’ve already cataloged how good she looks in her denim shorts, torn and frayed at the edges, with her white top. It’s tied around her neck, revealing her tan shoulders, marked with the same freckles covering her cheeks.

Her hair is still pulled back in a ponytail, with a few strands framing her face.

“I have to admit, I like this better on you, but I stand by my word.”

She clenches her jaw. I suspect not liking how I’m holding my ground on her throwing her brother’s shirt in the trash. I lift my hands between us to clarify.

“I meant the part about you wearing my jersey.”

She pops the top of the beer in her hand, and I watch as she lifts the can and takes a long drink. I study the way her throat moves, her tongue darting out to swipe the remnants from her lips while I wait for her to reply.

“Judging by your size, something tells me it wouldn’t fit.” Her voice cracks at the end.

I grin when she nervously rubs her lips together and turns, her eyes roaming over the group of people forming around us as though she’s checking to see if anyone may have overheard her.

Something about this girl draws me into her, and I step around the barrel, the heat of the fire picking up. She doesn’t move even though I know she sees me approaching her. Her eyes flutter, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I reach out and brush my knuckle along her arm, my voice dropping low. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, and she glances at me.

Her brows narrow, almost as if she’s confused or forgot what she said. I run my hand down her forearm and grip her hip. She steps toward me, tilting her head to the side when I lean in close enough, my lips near her ear.

“We’d make it work. You don’t have to worry, sweetheart. It’ll fit.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. I pull away, catching the way her eyes flash wide. It sends her into a coughing fit, and I grin.

“You okay?” I ask, tilting my head to the side like she did to me before.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly arrogant?”

I chuckle. “Ehh… Bold. Confident. There’s a difference.”

She eyes me, nodding slowly, playing off like she’s not the least bit impressed.

“Don’t worry, though. I know you’re off-limits. I don’t need your brother hunting my ass down when he finds out I’m flirting with his sister.”

“You call this flirting?” She smirks.

“What do you want to call it, then?”

She shrugs and lifts her beer to take another drink. I realize she does it to buy herself time.

I expect her to change the subject or pretend she didn’t hear me entirely. She catches me off guard when she says, “What my brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Or maybe I like him knowing that I want his sister.”

Her body sways when she stares into my eyes. We stand toe-to-toe, our lips a few inches apart. It’s like we’re both waiting for the other to give in first. Except I don’t want to rush this with her. I’ve never been the hookup type. Hell, most of the stuff I’ve said today is out of character for me.

Maybe I want to drag this out and see if she truly means what she says. Or maybe I want to see which of us will fold first.

She raises her brow, her eyes falling to my lips. “Prove it.”

I guess I’m not the only bold one between the two of us.

Two

AVA

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