APRIL
The lipof a bookshelf digs into my back. It’s a dull pain and I focus on that sensation to keep from getting lost in Chance’s dark ocean eyes.
Breathe, April.
I shoot a look at the exits. Chance sees where my eyes have gone and his expression loosens in amusement. It’s a subtle change, a simple twitch of his lips.
But I can tell he’s laughing at me.
Come on, April. Dig yourself out of this hole.
I try to speak in a normal voice, but it fails spectacularly. “We’re not in high school, Chance. This isn’t truth or dare. I don’t have to prove anything.”
“So itdidmean something.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Because I’m angry.”
“You really are a terrible liar, Tink.”
I’m not a fairy, but therearea couple of winged creatures flapping around in my stomach, all of them enamored with the man whose face is way too beautiful and way too close to mine.
My head has gone completely blank and I have no idea what to do next. The hesitation makes me feel even more vulnerable.
When it comes to fight or flight instincts, I’m a fighter.
Usually.
Except when I’m backed up against bookshelves by pro-hockey athletes.
Throwing all my weight forward, I shove at Chance’s chest. He steps back easily, allowing me to flee a couple paces away.
“That isn’t funny,” I scold him.
“That wasn’t a joke,” he answers, his voice low and silky.
I attempt to swallow but my throat is dry and I just end up coughing. “I already apologized for kissing you.”
“Idon’taccept your apology.”
My eyes narrow on instinct. “Don’t be petty.”
“It’s up to the victim whether he forgives or not.”
I bark out a dry laugh. “Victim?”
“Unlike you,” he traces his lips with a finger, “I don’t share these lips with just anyone. I’m a very modest man.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m hurt that you don’t believe me.” Chance shakes his head.
My mind conjures the memory of him and the girl he was hugging at The Tipsy Tuna. “We both know you don’t have a problem getting close to women,” I snap.
Chance frowns. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”