Page 67 of Bad Blood

This is new to me.

I take the empty cup from her hand. “We got off on the wrong foot.” I give her a smug grin and avoid the apology I owe her. “How are you?”

“Fine, until this.” She points at the puddle at our feet. I try to make eye contact again, but she averts her gaze, reaching for the cup. I keep it away from her, trying to get her to look at me.

She’s flustered, and I’m honored. I get this response from most women, but she didn’t seem bothered by me any other time I’ve been around.

“Eight point one, huh?” I let her have a breather as I make my way past her and into the restaurant. “Want a refill?”

“A refill would be great. Thanks.” She relaxes as she follows me inside, fixing her eyes on anything but me. I’m flattered, I am, but I can’t resist poking fun.

“Do you need a kiddie cup?”

Shock registers across her face as her mouth drops open, and she huffs, placing a hand on her hip. “So I don’t get too much?” The tension in her shoulders disappears, and I get a humorless smile.

“You shouldn’t have more than you can handle.”

She smirks.

Game on.

“Get one for yourself while you’re at it, on me. For all your troubles,” she says, not bothering to keep the irritation from her voice.

I clasp a hand over my heart. “That’s sweet of you.”

She rolls her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” I fight the urge to take her over my knee but stop the idea before it fully forms. Not the right place or the right time. Definitely not the right person.

Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits.

“Semantics.” She taps a finger on her lower lip, studying me. “I recognize you from somewhere.”

“Liam’s brother.” I point a finger at my chest.

“Is that right?” She rolls her eyes. Again. I get twitchy palms. She narrows her gaze, and her bottom teeth nibble on her plump, glossed lip. “Somehow, I forgot.”

“Ouch. I’m that forgettable, huh?” A part of me is dying to know what that bottom lip feels like pressed against mine, but I push the thought away along with the other dirty things that pop into my mind.

The rosy hue on her cheeks transforms into a deep crimson tint.

I get to her.

And I like it.

Pay attention. Stop staring at her like that, Dax. Shit.

“No, definitely not.” She goes silent as she pulls her hand to her mouth, nibbling on a nail.

“It’s the face.”

She studies me, her fingers still near her mouth. Confusion creases her brow.

“I get that a lot.”

Her forehead puckers with no idea what I’m referencing.

I can’t believe I have to be so obvious. “You recognize me because . . .”

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