Page 75 of Bad Blood

I swear, if he winks at me one more goddamn time, I’m going to . . .

“But that does.” His grin turns into a cocky smirk. “Point.”

Heat climbs my neck as I step over the chain and back onto the path. My heart slams against my ribcage. “Don’t flatter yourself. No point. I’m immune.”

“To this?” His eyes zero in on me. “Your body says otherwise.”

“That’s not fair.”

“How do you figure?”

I struggle to produce a credible reason. Dax affects me in every sense of the word. But he doesn’t need his suspicions confirmed. And no one but me needs to know.

“Because it’s not true.” I pull my shoulders back, creating more distance between us, the heat of his stare still strumming across my skin.

His eyes trail from my cheeks to my neck, to the neckline of my shirt, and downward. “But it’s not cold.”

I throw an arm over my chest with a groan of embarrassment, shocked and at a loss for words.

He huffs out a laugh, and it earns me a wink. “Bet you didn’t think hanging out with me could be this fun, huh?” He stands and continues onto the path, mumbling to himself. “Time with Dax—where wasting time is considered time well-wasted.”

“Do people always let you have your way?” I ask as he falls in line beside me.

He drops his head to the right in consideration and comes to the obvious conclusion. “Yeah.”

“I want rules.”

“Like what?”

“Rule one: you get a point if you get the upper hand. Rule two—”

“Upper hand, as in pulled one over on the other person? Or upper hand, as in the advantage in skill set or intelligence?”

I consider this for a moment as we start toward the park’s exit. “Both. Rule two . . .”

“It’s only fair if I get to suggest rules too. I get this one.”

“Fine.”

“Rule two, you get a point for getting the other person to do something they were unwilling to do or unaware of, like this date.”

“This is not a date.” I roll my eyes. “Rule three—”

“How many rules do we need to have?”

I deliberate for a couple of seconds. “I can work with two.”

He gives me a sideways glance. “If you think of something else, we can add it, but you can’t call point and then make up a rule. I don’t play well with cheaters.” He pokes my shoulder and gives me a shit-eating grin. “Clean slate?”

I extend my hand. I try to make my tone sound bored as I stop beside him. “Phone.”

He walks past me and joins the crowd, ignoring my request, before he stops to wait for me to catch up. When I do, he whispers, “What makes you think you deserve that sort of access?”

“Just wanted to make things even.”

He focuses on the intersection and the group of people around us, but it’s obvious he’s preoccupied with me.

“That’s not fair.” His breath tickles my ear.

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