Page 15 of Pinkie Promise

“She’s cute,” he murmurs, way too fucking loud.

“Christ,” I groan as I hear her little laugh again. “I’m gonna grab another beer,” I say to her as we start to pull away from the group. “You want something?”

She stares at my chest for about twenty seconds before looking back up at me and saying, “N-no, I’m not thirsty.”

I grin. “Right.”

I grab a beer and then gesture with my chin for her to lead the way, pissed at myself for not scrubbing ten layers of skin off my hands before I came here tonight. No way can I touch her little angel outfit when my fingers are charcoal-grey with damn engine fluid. I look down at her perky ass and swallow back a groan.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I rasp as she leads the way into the field, my eyes raking over her hips as they tick from side to side.

“You’re welcome,” she laughs, “but no way when we win this thing are you getting seven minutes in heaven with me.”

I choke on my beer and then swipe my palm down my jaw as I try to decide which part of that bollocking I enjoyed the most: the fact that she’s so competitive she’s certain that we’ll reach the centre first, or the fact that she remembered the line that Tanner threw out to us and is bold enough to put me in my place about it.

My eyes burn into hers when she glances back at me over her shoulder. Or maybe she’s just checking that I’m still here with her.

Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going anywhere.

I clear the gravel from my throat as she picks which direction we’re going to walk in next and I say, “You’re real confident. I like that.”

Then we walk in silence for so long that I’m starting to think that she didn’t hear me. Or that all of the glances and the blushing were in my head and she isn’t into me at all. Or that maybe she’s bringing me further into the maze to get some more finite revenge on the door-to-the-forehead situation.

My eyes settle back down on her sexy behind and I drain the rest of my beer in one long pull.

“What else do you like?” she finally asks me.

My eyebrows rise because I hadn’t been expecting that question, but hell if I’m not about to take this opportunity to state my intentions loud and clear.

I give her an appreciative once-over and say, “Long hair. Big eyes. Short as fuck.”

She flashes me a happy nose-scrunch and something heavy twists in my gut. I’ve stepped so close to her that my pecs arealmost pushing into her back as I finally demand, “Tell me your name.”

She stops in her tracks and I bite hard into my fist when my hockey shorts brush up against her skirt for half a second too long. I take two big steps backwards, almost crashing into the handful of students who are taking the same path as us.

She turns around to face me and crosses her arms over her chest, head tilted to one side as she makes me sweat it. She doesn’t need to. No other chick has ever made me wait two weeks to find out her damn name.

“Fallon,” she says with a small smile.

My chest practically doubles in size.

“That’s beautiful,” I say, stepping forward, and she takes that as her cue to begin walking me again.

“You drink a lot of beer?” she asks me, not rude but with a slightly worried edge to her voice. Understandably, probably because she doesn’t want to be in the middle of a corn maze with a guy she doesn’t know when he has an unspecified amount of alcohol pumping through his system.

I don’t want to mention that I only picked up this beer so that I’d have something to occupy my big dirty hands with, so instead I say, “When I’m with the guys.”

“You aren’t with the guys right now,” she points out, sending me a look.

Fuck. True. I change the subject. “What do you wanna win if we reach the centre first?”

“Whenwe win,” she purrs. “What can you give me?”

I grunt hard and start ripping the paper off the bottle. “Uh,” I rasp, trying to think of something normal that I can offer her. I’m convinced that she didn’t mean to say that provocatively but my brain is immediately in the fucking gutter.

I look down my torso and an idea snaps into place.

“Come to my game,” I blurt out.

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