Page 3 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

“I beg to differ,” I retort mindlessly, giving myself the briefest glances down her body.

She’s tight, curvy, and sexy as hell.

I have something else to do, but I found someone better for whom I could expend all my energy.

Charles isn’t my type.

If he wants a date with me, we already have one set up for the ice tomorrow night.

“I hope I didn’t spill your…” Her eyes fall to one of the pink drinks in my hand. “Oh, crap, do I need to buy you another drink? I didn’t mean to spill your girlfriend’s—”

“I’m good,” I retort calmly, not bothering to see how much I spilled because the last thing on my mind is the pink drinks in my hand and how they were going to be thrown at the man she just saved.

No, my attention span is way too short-lived now that fate has thrown a dime piece that could be on the cover of every magazine in the world.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I solicit. “Your hands look a little empty, and I could use the company.”

Her brows knit a bit. “You mean…those are for you?”

“They were,” I commit. “But I was about to dispose of them until you almost knocked me on my ass.”

She blanches a bit, and it wrinkles her nose. “I am sorry.”

“I’m not.”

She hands me over another smile and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, I should let you get back to your party.”

“I’m not with anybody.”

“You’re not?” I shake my head before she perks a brow.

“Handsome guy like you alone at a bar?”

“I think that’s my line.”

She laughs, and I hear it a bit over the music. “Right, well, I’m bad at this.”

“You’re doin’ alright to me. If you wanna keep me company, I know a place we can go.”

Her smile widens, but she takes a step back.

“Oh, no. You’re not about to do that to me.”

I cock my head innocently to the side because she’s not that bad at this. She knows exactly what I’m hinting at. “Why not?” By giving up some space, I’m allowed more of a view of her body, and she doesn’t disappoint me at all. In fact, I’m ready to tell Elliot that I don’t need his help anymore. The mission has been officially aborted. “Every woman likes ice cream, don’t they?”

“Ice cream?” She eyes me suspiciously. “Right.”

“Baby, I passed a place on the way here.” I jerk my thumb guilelessly over my shoulder. “However, if you’re about to tell me you’re a mint chocolate chip kinda girl, I’m gonna kindly withdraw that invitation.”

Her lips heave upward. “Cookie dough.”

“A woman after my own heart. Me too.”

“Really?”

I bob my head because it has always been my favorite, no bullshit.

“Just ice cream?”

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