Page 65 of The Foul Out

“CD.” He chuckled, his dark eyes lightening. “You’re dating yourself.”

I shook my head. “More like dating her car.”

“If you say so,” he teased.

Playfully, I smacked the hard plane of his tight abs with the back of my hand. “Hey! I have not hit the midpoint between thirty and forty yet,” I said, flicking a finger between the two of us. “Unlike one of us at this table.”

“Someday I’ll explain my life points theory about age.” Then the thief snagged my martini glass from the table and took a sip.

“Does this theory explain drink thievery?” I tilted my head, and a wisp of hair fell across my eye.

Without hesitation, he lifted his hand and brushed it back, causing my breath to catch. He ran the rough pads of his fingersalong my temple before caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

I swore my heart skipped as he watched me, wearing the most sincere expression. We remained locked like that for a breath or two. Then he finally lowered his arm, but my eyes tracked it the entire way.

“Nah,” he said softly, wearing a small smile. “You’re just good at sharing. I could never order a pink drink in a glass like that. I’d get shit for months. I have to order whiskey or vodka. No passion fruit martinis.” He lifted my drink to his lips, settling on the thin rim as he took another large sip.

“Are you trying to distract me from the sinner question?” I cocked a brow.

He set the drink down and pulled up the sleeve of his white dress shirt, where the wordsinnersin ink was barely visible. “The rest of the line is there too. I was a pain in the ass as a teenager, and I used to believe it was my motto.”

“That sentence is full of past tense that doesn’t belong,” I teased.

“Someone’s got the jokes tonight.” He smirked. “But my mother has always told me to keep it balanced out. So”—he lifted the arm with the tattoo—“fun is on my left arm, and”—he lifted his right arm—“baseball, the arm that does that work, the throwing and hitting, is my right. It’s all about balance.” With both forearms on the table now, he had to cock his head to the side to look at me.

I had to admit that was kind of adorable. I was working on a way to tease him about it when he looked over my shoulder and frowned.

“What?” I asked, afraid to look.

“Looks like your neighbor is headed back this way,” Kyle muttered as he shifted so he faced me again.

A sigh escaped me. I had no interest in looking for the two men. For the last hour, I had been polite. I’d worked to engage in conversation with Trevor when he chatted me up earlier, but there was no chemistry between us. Yet he wouldn’t give up.

“Is there an easy way to let a guy know you’re not just feeling it?” I pressed my lips together in a small pout, studying the tabletop. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but honestly, I wished he’d just go.

After a somewhat pregnant pause, Kyle finally asked, “Trevor?”

Tipping my chin up, I nodded. “Yeah. I?—”

Kyle cupped my cheek, stealing all words, along with rational thought, and pressed his full lips to mine. A spark jolted through me as his warm mouth touched my own. I might have gasped, or maybe not. It all happened so quickly, it was hard to tell. The kiss was more than a peck, but all too soon, he eased back.

Dumbstruck, I blinked up at him.

“Done,” Kyle announced casually, then licked his lower lip.

“Done?” I whispered.

He couldn’t mean what he was implying. Swallowing thickly, I opened my mouth and searched for the words to ask for clarification. None came.

“They made a quick turn to another table. Surf boy got the message,” Kyle said with an easy shrug.

Was he kidding? The man had just kissed me, and now he stood there, twirling the stem of my glass between his long fingers like none of this was a big deal. But it had been over two years since I’d been kissed, so it was a big deal to me.

I choked out a scoff. It was the only sound I could create at the moment.

Brows pulling together, he examined me, clearly confused by the noise.

With my jaw locked, I inhaled through my nose, finally clearing my head. “You did not just kiss me to get Trevor to go away.” It was a statement and a question and an accusation all rolled into one.

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