“Christy’s getting married tomorrow,” the first girl said. “Christy!” A woman wearing a pretty sparkly dress and a small veil stepped forward sheepishly. “The weddings tomorrow, but you…” Her finger wavered in the air. “You could strip for her!”
“Sharon—” Christy said, shooting her a dark look.
“So Christy, was it?” Hayden said. “I’m not a stripper and—” He was about to turn to me, but Sharon wasn’t about to allow that.
“You sure? I’ve got a couple of hundred dollars here…?” I stepped forward as he stared blankly at her, obviously not wanting to be rude. “OK, well, how about an autograph then?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Couldn’t they hear the reluctance in his voice, or did they just not care? My teeth clacked together as I came to stand beside him.
“On her tits,” Sharon said with a wicked grin, then produced a Sharpie from her bag. “I’m sure your sister won’t mind.”
Sister? It took me a second for me to realise who she meant, and that’s when I stared the bitch down. A curl of her lip made clear she knew that’s not what this was, and while Hayden was my fake date, she didn’t know that. Rude, that’s what Sharon was, even her friends moving restlessly around her, but she held the Sharpie out imperiously.
“Hey, bro,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder and sidling in closer. “I meant to ask, did that lice shampoo work for you? Mum wasn’t sure if it worked for crabs as well as head lice.”
“Not really.” The women watched in horror as his hand slipped down, scratching at his groin. They stepped back and kept on going so damn fast I was surprised I didn’t hear their heels screech.
“We’re good!” Sharon shouted, the lot of them hustling right back to their bay.
I watched them go with a smile of satisfaction, right up until I looked up to see Hayden staring down at me.
“I thought you were supposed to be finding me a girlfriend?” he asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Well, Christy is someone else’s and Sharon…” I wrinkled my nose. “Not her. Sister… I mean she’s not far off, but I’m dressed up nice and you’re…” My mouth went dry as I looked at that t-shirt pulled tight across his chest. “Well, you’re you. This could be a real date. There’s no way for her to know if it was fake.” I put my hand on my hip. “Millie would kill me if I let you hook up with someone like her.”
“And what kind of girl does my sister have in mind for me?” His voice had somehow become a low purr. “Is this something the two of you have discussed?”
“Ah… no.”
Probably because most of our conversations about her brothers and dating was that Millie was sure no woman would want them because they were arseholes.
“So you just made an executive decision to out me as having crabs to get rid of those girls?”
I stiffened. Had I overstepped?
“Well, I can go over there and tell them it’s a joke, if you like, put in a good word with whichever one you think is hot.” I smiled. “I’ll even tell them you’re really good at throwing axes.”
“Nope. You made the right call.” He kept on stepping closer and would’ve been standing on my dress if I hadn’t hiked it up. “I told you, when I’m with you, you have my entire focus.”
His black pupils seemed to swallow the blue of his eyes, turning him into someone else altogether. Not Hayden, not Millie’s brother, but him. Hot, smelling really, really nice, and so close it took effort not to touch him, my hands trembling as a result, this wasn’t feeling fake at all.
But it was.
I pulled away and grinned. “I really need you to come to that family thing, so I’m gonna win this.”
That was just my excuse to stop whatever the hell that was. I picked up the axe and walked over to the lane, lobbing it without thought. He’d win and I’d lose, that became apparent as soon as I saw he had skills, but then I had to wonder. He hadn’t specified what he said he wanted if he won, just making the terms vague instead. Probably nothing, I assumed. Just Hayden being polite and going along with my bet idea.
“Well, well.” He nodded to the target, and damn me if I hadn’t managed to hit the bullseye. “Look at what you can achieve if you relax enough.”
“Thanks, Yoda.” I patted his arm as if this was just us being dickheads at his parents’ place. “So what’re we on now?”
“You’re on 55 and I’m on 40,” he replied, but that smug smile made clear he thought he was safe. “If I throw a bullseye, I win.”
“So flashing you would be really bad form, right?” I said.
“Maybe.” His eyes slid over my body because hey, he was still a guy. “But if that’s what I wanted, I’d just win this bet and take you somewhere private, so I was the only one that got to see you.”