Page 1 of How Dare You

Chapter 1

Devon

Email Mom a list of reasons I won’t be going on dates she sets up anymore.

-Note from Devon Blake's planner, June 10th

7:45pm. Not too late to get some work done. At least my night is salvageable. This guy hasn’t asked me a single question in the thirty minutes we’ve been on this date. I pull cash out of my handbag and leave it on the bar to cover my drink and tip. My-Credit-Score-is-the-Sexiest-Thing-About-Me doesn’t miss a beat explaining why his car is superior to his coworker’s until I stand up to leave.“

His wasn’t even on a waitlist. Hey—where are you going?” he stutters.

Walking away, I answer, “You don’t need me for this conversation. Carry on.”

If he protests further, I don’t hear it, because a low chuckle coming from my other side grabs my attention. “That was cold.” A tall man with sun-streaked blond hair comes into step with me, holding the door to the restaurant open and following me onto the sidewalk. “Deserved, but cold.” His mouth curves into a smile that’s probably been getting him laid since high school. “I liked it.”

His dark gray eyes watch me with the kind of smug assuredness only the owner of a face like his can carry off. Symmetry, enviable bone structure, and high cheek bones all showcase that irresistible smile. A clear aversion to sunscreen has his skin tanned a deeper shade than the slightly-too-long hair that grazes his clean-shaven jaw. A handful of thick-lined, traditional style tattoos decorate his thick, muscular arms. I have to look up quite a bit to make eye contact, making him at least six-four or six-five. He’s indisputably attractive—and he knows it.

My gaze latches onto his. After enough prolonged eye contact most people get uncomfortable, back down, and most importantly, they leave me alone. But not this one. Instead, he takes a step closer.

“Been a while since I was in a staring contest,” he jokes. “What rules do you play by? Am I allowed to blink?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “Okay, my rules. No blinking.”

This is ridiculous. And yet, something in my chest won’t allow me to blink. To lose. My lips try to betray me by curving into a smile that I immediately suppress.

“I saw that,” the man says. “You think you can distract me with your goddess smile? No ma’am. You’re in a stare-off contest with Rhett McCoy, Fort Worth’s undefeated champ.”

I arch a brow. “Sounds like a useful skill.”

“Sure is. Without it, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your undivided attention.” He tilts his head, causing a strand of hair to fall loose from behind his ear. “What color would you say your eyes are, mama?” he asks, a touch of a southern accent slipping out around the words. “Sapphire? Navy?”

They’re dark blue, and they’re starting to burn.

His lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk. “I got it. They’re the color of the heavens at twilight, with gold flecks that shimmer like stars. The kind of sky you can’t help but fall in love under.”

“That’s the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard.” I suppress another smile.

“Why do you keep hiding your smile?” His brows draw in confusion. “I gave you the cheesiest description I could imagine. You were supposed to laugh.”

Tears gather at the sides of my cheesy-twilight-eyes from the lack of blinking.

The stare-off champ gives in, dramatically closing and opening his eyes. As soon as he’s done, I follow suit. He reaches a calloused hand up to swipe at my tears. “Had to give in. Can’t have you crying on our first date,” he shakes his head, “or ever.”

“We’re not on a date, McCoy.” Although, I’m not as opposed to the idea as I should be.

“Sure, we are. You remembered my name.” His hand barely grazes my waist as he switches places with me on the sidewalk, putting himself on the street side before we start walking again. “That’s something.”

“You said it thirty seconds ago. It’s not something.”

“It could be something, if we let it.” He shrugs, tilting his face down, so our eyes meet again. “What’s your name?”

Instead of telling him I need to get going, reiterating that this isn’t a date or simply that I can’t continue this conversation, I answer, “Devon Blake.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Devon Blake.” His words are slow, deliberate, and matched with a genuine smile as he reaches across to shake my hand.

“Where did you come from anyway?” I ask, tilting my chin in his direction as we stop at an intersection to wait for the light. “Did you just walk out on your tab back there?”

“No ma’am,” he laughs. “I’d just finished my drink and was about to leave when you sat down at the bar.” He leans in close, quieting his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t be mad, but I enjoyed watching him miss every signal you gave that he was fumbling the whole thing.”

My eyes narrow into a glare. “You watched our date, were happy he was an idiot, and stuck around so you could follow me out?”

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