Page 66 of Playing Flirty

A smile broke onto my face, stifling the lingering anger. “Your long arms allow chivalry shortcuts,” I teased as I climbed in.

The car stood still as he surveyed me for a few seconds. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

I didn’t mean to tell him the truth. I meant to tell him I was fine. That I was okay. But the crack in my voice had him leaning closer, and his soft, intoxicating scent pulled the truth out of me until I told him everything—from the very first incident to the last. Because, for some reason, when William’s dark eyes were on me, my walls crumbled.

He didn’t say anything, somehow knowing not to push. Instead, he slid his hand off the steering wheel and onto my leg where my hand rested, covering it with his own. Warm against my icy fingers.

With my heart rate stabilizing, I took him in. His crumpled Doctor Who T-shirt, his checkered pajama pants and sock-clad feet resting on the clutch and accelerator.

“Why didn’t you change your clothing?” I asked.

He chuckled, a slight redness creeping onto his golden cheeks. “Shaun said it was an emergency, and I was barely awake enough to hear what he was saying.”

“I’m sorry.” I bit my lip and stared ahead. “I told him I could take the bus.”

He squeezed my hand under his. “Don’t be silly. Why would I miss the opportunity to finally have a moment alone with you?”

My cheeks heated at the suggestion.

The car launched forward, turning back into the lane, and with his full focus on the road and a seductive grin on his face, he said, “I had a dream about you.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.” It surprised me how natural it felt flirting with William. How safe.

A hearty laugh escaped him, nearly vibrating the entire car. “Not that kind of dream.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t playUntil Dawnbefore bed.”

Laughter bubbled through me, washing away more of the anger and frustration. With William, I was able to tuck away the memory of Mr. Markham, work, my future, and all my stresses into the deepest depths of my mind, where I felt no fear. With William, I was present. It was all about the here and now, the same way it felt when I was playing a game—which, I suppose, we were doing.

“Hey,” he said, drawing my attention back to him, “are you sure you want to go home? I have a tank full of gas, and I’ve cleared my day. Name a place, and I’ll take you there.”

“I still have work to do.” I gestured to the backpack I was still wearing.

He pursed his lips. “Screw work. Didn’t you take a sick day? Shaun mentioned something like that.”

“William,” I chided, “not all of us have developed a bestselling game with profits we can comfortably live off.”

“Okay, fair point.” He pulled to a stop and lifted one finger. “But first, you’re on your way to developing one.”

His words sent a gentle flutter throughout my body.

He raised another finger. “And second, I think you need to blow off some steam. And while I have many ideas of how I could help you with that”—his naughty gaze met mine—“I have a feeling that’s not what you need right now. These cuticles need a break.”

He reached for my hand and lifted it to his mouth, his warm lips pressing against my thumb below the nail. The one I’d been biting. A foreign comfort spread from my thumb, up my shoulder, and to my chest, where it finally settled.

“How about a coffee at the Arcade Café?” I asked.

He looked down at his pajama pants, and I opened my mouth to retract that idea, but he chuckled.

“You know what? They’ve seen me in worse.”

My head rolled back with a giggle. “How do you do that? How do you not care about what people think of you?”

With a destination in mind, William shifted up a gear, and the car bolted forward, sending a flutter into my belly.

“I care.” He looked my way. “At least about whatsomepeople think.”

My breath hitched.

---