Page 42 of Lassoed Love

He just looks at me with a smile. “Yeah, that. You’re not a Swiftie?”

“Um, I mean, I like her songs. I’m just not a diehard fan. I likerock.”

“Interesting,” he says, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride in defying his expectations.

What is it about me that surprises him?He turns the corner, pulling into the long driveway near my apartment block. He puts the car into park, sitting back in his seat like he’s not ready to get out just yet. “Okay, well, thank you again.” The atmosphere turns awkward, and I go to open the door, but find that when I pull the latch forward, the door doesn't budge.What the fuck?

“Uh, the door won’t open?” I say, puzzled.

“I know," he says matter-of-factly, leaving me frowning. “Not until you say yes to going out with me.”

“What?! “A-are you being serious right now?” I exclaim, my mind reeling.

“Dead serious,” he replies with a smirk.Well, fuck.

18

As I sit there, gazing at Isla’s puzzled face framed by her long brown hair, I can’t help but notice how it sweeps over her shoulder, falling gracefully over her breasts. She’d chosen to wear that little dress and thosefucking cowboy bootsI love on her—all for thatwanker. I fume—now angry at the fact that she dressed up for someone else.

She looks beautiful, that naturally beautiful type—not caked in layers of makeup like other girls I’ve seen around town. Her full lips, painted with a faint gloss, beckon me to kiss her or imagine them wrapped around… something else.

Cut it out, you idiot.I silently scold myself, shaking my head subtly to dispel these intrusive thoughts. Ignoring the fact that I’ve had a semi the whole damn drive by just being in her presence.

“Uh, the door won’t open?” she says, puzzled.

“I know,” I respond matter-of-factly, leaving her frowning. “Not until you say yes to going out with me.”

“What?! “A-are you being serious right now?” Her exclamation suggests her mind is probably reeling.

“Dead serious,” I reply with a smirk, locking eyes with her, waiting for her response. “One date. Just one, Isla. So I can prove I’m not just some asshole to you.”

She licks her lips, stunned, drawing my attention back to those enticing lips.Stop it.My arousal is threatening to become obvious.

“W-what? Why? No, let me out of the car. Now, Xavier,” she demands, raising her voice slightly, a tone I find strangely arousing.

She possesses such a melodic voice, and I can’t help but wonder what it would sound like as she screams my name in ecstasy.Yep, there goes the semi—now morphing into a full-fledged hard-on. I shift in my seat, attempting to discreetly conceal it.

“I think we are getting along just fine right now. C'mon,” I press. “JustONEdate. That’s all I’m asking; it’s not a fucking marriage proposal.”

“Wedon’t even know anything about each other. It would never work. Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to kindly decline. Now open the door,” she insists. Oh,game on.

“Well, for starters, you're a Veterinarian,” I counter. “You work at the animal hospital down at Springbrook Reserve. You’re 26... no, wait, 27 years old, and you used to live in the city.”

“Everyone knows these things? Nice try. It is a small town, after all,” she scoffs.

“Thirteen,” I blurt out.

“What?” she asks, confusion written all over her face.

“You have thirteen freckles on your face,” I declare, and she just frowns, still confused.I know this because I’ve counted every singlefucking one on her face.

“Your favourite subjects are English and art. You used to play the piano and the flute—don’t know about now. You’re shy, tend to keep to yourself, but around people you’re comfortable with, you’re extremely bubbly and have the worst foul mouth,” I say with a smirk, winking at Isla.

She sits there, stunned, mouth slightly agape. “Does that cover it? I think it’s you who doesn’t really know me,” I assert.

She’d spent most of her schooling years probably hating me and my idiot friends because of the childish things we’d do or get up to, and being a part of their friendship group forced me to become involved in their antics. I’m not who I used to be; I desperately want to prove that to her, andthatspeaks volumes.

“So, what’s it gonna be? One date? I promise I’ll leave you alone after,” I say, throwing both my hands up in surrender. Please say yes. Yes, I have resorted tobegging. I, Xavier Mitchell, do NOTbegfor anyone. But she’s not justanyone. How do I convey that without sounding like a wimp? Suddenly, all my smooth talk goes out the window. I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, analysing, considering. God, I wish I could read minds right now.Is she intrigued? Annoyed? Amused?It’s like trying to decode a cryptic message written in invisible ink. Come on, Isla, give me something here. Anything. My palms are starting to sweat, and I'm pretty sure I’m about to break into a nervous flop sweat any second now. But I have to play it cool. Can’t let her see me sweat.

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