Page 23 of Endgame

I’m fidgeting with my cart, rolling it back and forth while fighting the urge to look at him. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I’d like to think so. But I won’t lie and say I’m not intrigued to know more.”

What is happening right now?

“Trust me, you don’t. Do yourself a favor and run in the opposite direction. Navy might kill you while you’re at it.”

This guy thinks he’s indestructible. “Ah, Navy doesn’t scare me.”

I’m beginning to think not much of anything does. I can’t decide if that's the hottest or most alarming thing to hear coming from him.

“Either way, thanks, but no thanks.”

He rears back like I surprised him. “Are you always so formal?”

I wouldn’t say I’m being formal. I don’t have time to entertain whatever he thinks is happening between us because it’s not.

I start moving and make a sharp turn down the ice cream aisle.

I look in Callaway’s direction to make sure he isn’t silently judging me with his eyes—he’s not. I’m judging myself, though, knowing good and well there’s enough sugar in my cart to stimulate a bunch of wild children.

I haven’t answered him yet, and that’s probably why he’s still following me. “I’m not formal.”

“Ha! I almost believed you there for a second, angel. Good one.”

There’s that name again. I’m the farthest thing from an angel. He knows that I know that, so why the hell does he keep using it for me?

Reaching for the ice cream cookie sandwiches, predictable I know, I toss them into my cart and turn my head to catch a glance at Callaway. I don’t have to look far because here he is, all up in my space, without a single care to give.

It’s slightly admirable. I wish I had the courage to do what I wanted without caring or thinking through the repercussions.

“Callaway, you’ve got to stop with the angel nickname. It’s creepy.”

Okay, it’s not creepy; it’s actually kind of sweet, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He laughs again. Does anything bother this man? Holy smokes.

“I’m hurt, Dakota.” He’s fake crying.

What the hell is happening? He’s delusional. Does Navy know this side of him because I’m concerned?

“I’ve officially reached my max limit of patience for today.”

I could probably use something in my cart as a scare tactic and maybe he’ll leave me alone.

I say that, but I’m secretly enjoying his company. If only he would stop sending me concealed smirks—it’s unnerving.

I think I find myself trying to avoid him because it’s evident he can see my insecurities before I come to terms with them myself.

“You’re an angry little angel, just the way I like ‘em.”

Have mercy.

“Does Navy know you’re certifiably insane?”

This is quite entertaining. He seems to think on my question, conjuring some type of answer up in his head.

“Don’t deflect. I know I’m getting under your skin.”

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