Page 45 of The Bully's Dare

Kenzi motions to her spread. “Taco Tuesday.”

“I love tacos. Room for one more?”

“Uh…yeah.” Kenzi says.

Donovan ignores me.

I sit, but I don’t touch the food. “So, what? You’re just going to give me the silent treatment? Because I called you a pansy?”

“That,” Donovan says. “And a million other things.” He looks at me and those dark eyes of his are steely, like daggers. “If your posse was around, you wouldn’t be talking to me. Or Kenzi.”

I press my lips together. “What’s it going to take for you to forgive me?”

Donovan lifts his eyebrows. “How long have you got?”

My eyes scan the table. I spot that little plastic cup of jalapeños—it’s filled to the top. I put it on the table between us. “If I ate this whole thing. Right now. Can we be cool?”

He lifts his eyebrow dubiously, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

“Um,” Kenzi says. “That’s like…a lot of jalapeños, I don’t know if you should…”

Too late. My gaze locked on his, I put the cup to my lips and tilt it back in one go.

Kenzi’s eyes go wide. So do Donovan’s. “Holy shit…” he says.

“Not so bad,” I say, crunching through the slices, the tiny seeds.

And then my mouth explodes.

I just make it to the trash can by the pool, where my body rejects the peppers and I hurl.

Dock Master Richard Donovan grabs me by the shoulder and drags me into his office, even though I tell him I’m fine.

And I am fine. I mean, my mouth is on fire, my throat feels like it’s closing up, but Donovan and I are cool. I think.

I hope.

He gets me a milk carton from the kiddie supply and I sip on it. It settles my stomach a little. When my throat is working again, I’m able to beg him: “Please don’t call my dad. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please don’t call my dad.”

I see where Donovan gets his stern gaze. He hands over the office phone. “He’s already on the line.”

I’d take the jalapeño sting over this lump in my throat any day.

I take the phone. “Hey.”

“The harbor master said you were sick.” My dad’s voice is strong and steady. Controlled. “Is that true?”

“Uh…no. It’s fine.”

“Do you need me to come get you?”

He doesn’t say it, I can hear the disappointment in his voice. I knew you couldn’t cut it. Disappointment. Loser. Pansy.

“No, sir. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

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