Page 13 of So Bad It Must Be Good

“The moon,” she said, laughing uproariously again.

He narrowed his gaze at her. “A street name, and a number, honey.”

She smiled over at him. “Why do you keep calling me honey?”

“I don’t . . .” God, he needed to get away from her. “Just tell me your address.”

“I don’t think I remember.”

“Give me your license.”

She clutched her hands over her pockets, still grinning. “Never.”

“Kayla.”

“Just take me back to your place,” she said with the wave of a hand. “I want to see your workshop.”

“No.”

She blinked over at him. “Well, I’m not telling you my address.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I want to see your workshop,” she replied as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Guess what, Kayla? Drunk women aren’t cute,” he returned irritably. Because the last thing he needed was her laughing and joking and talking about him having a dimple. It wasn’t that he couldn’t control himself—he wasn’t a reprehensible ass. It was just . . .

Aiden wanted this woman, and the more Liam wanted her, the more this was going to suck balls. Because of course Kayla would want Aiden over him, and he was never going to put it to her as some kind of choice, so this was all futile torture.

“Guess what, Liam?” she returned, mimicking his voice. “Drunk or not—I don’t care if I’m being cute for the enjoyment of men.”

“Touché,” he muttered, glancing over at her.

Her mouth was firmed into a line, her hands were crossed over her chest, and she looked at him—stubbornness etched into her every feature.

“You’re not going to back down on this, are you?”

She smiled, her whole face softening. “Nope. Kayla Gallagher is done backing down.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “To my workshop it is.” Just another circle of hell to survive.

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