Page 42 of Play Pretend

“Is this okay?” he whispered. All I could do was nod, but he leaned even closer. “I need words, shortcake.”

My breath hitched, my throat nearly too tight to speak. “Yes,” I rasped before clearing my throat. “It’s okay.” His thumb stroked along my skin, and I absently wondered if I remembered to shave my legs this morning.

As discreetly as I could, I dropped my hand to my calf, running my fingertips along my skin. A relieved breath whooshed out at the smoothness, and I flashed him a smile, shifting my leg closer to him. His grip turned possessive as he wrapped his fingers around my knee, holding it flush against his thigh.

I was completely unable to listen to the next few questions, but thankfully, Brynne and Trinity didn’t seem to notice. Theyshouted at Ash Kickers until their faces were red and their voices were raspy. And all the while, Ronan’s hand never left my leg.

“Oh my god, what’s the answer?” Trinity groaned.

“I feel like we should know this,” Brynne said.

“What?” I breathed, drawing both of their attention.

“The unicorn is the national animal of what country?” Trinity repeated the question, and I perked up.

“Oh, easy. Scotland,” I chirped, and Brynne snapped her fingers.

“See! We totally knew that.” She tapped the board. “Write it down. Hurry.”

The marker flew across the board as she wrote the word, then she spun around, holding it proudly over her head. “Get fucked, Blackrock Bay!” she shouted, and Ronan sighed.

“Here we go,” he muttered, slipping his hand off my leg. He stood, towering over nearly everyone in the bar.

“Watch it, Caldwell!” one of the Blackrock Bay guys shouted back, leaping to his feet.

“Sit down, Barlowe,” Ronan said, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard. It did something stupid to my insides—tightened my lower stomach and made my thighs press tightly together. Where was he hiding that voice? It screamed authority—stop it.

I had to stop it. Just because he’d been touching me, and I’d been liking it—alot—didn’t mean anything. We had to get comfortable with each other or everyone would know we were big liars.

“Tell her to keep her mouth shut,” the man, Barlowe, shouted back, tossing his hand toward Trinity.

“Teenie Weenie Deanie,” Brynne and Trinity sang, tipping their heads back and forth mockingly. Barlowe—Dean?—took a step forward, his face reddening. His thick black beard hid most of his expression, but his irritation was clear.

Ronan mimicked the other man’s movements, stepping around his sister to get closer to him. They stared at each other, ignoring Tommy on the mic trying to get everyone to calm down and take their seats.

Neon highlighted Ronan’s strong muscles along his shoulders and back as he stood at his full height. I didn’t know exactly how tall he was, but he was climbable. Totally climbable.

“You have a little drool on your chin,” Brynne whispered. I reached up, mindlessly wiping at my face. She and Trinity laughed, and embarrassment flooded through me.

“Sorry,” I said, but they shook their heads.

“Don’t be sorry,” Brynne said. “Check your man out, girl. Lord knows everyone else is.”

“Not me.” Trinity mock-gagged, and Brynne rolled her eyes.

“You don’t count. For one, he’s your brother. And two, you don’t check anyone out.” Her smile turned wicked as she muttered, “Except Dean Barlowe.”

Trinity gasped, pressing her hand against her chest. “You take that back. I’d never check Teenie Weenie Deanie out.”

“Wait. That’s Dean Barlowe?” I asked, jerking my chin at the man arguing with Tommy and Ronan by the stage. “You like him?”

“Good god, no,” she said, shaking her head. Brynne rolled her eyes as she finished her drink.

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.”

“I don’t,” she protested. “He’s so—look at him!” I glanced his way again, and I had to admit, other than taking his trivia incredibly seriously, he was attractive. A little taller than Ronan, but impossibly wider. His arms were like tree trunks, and his chest was massive. He looked more like a lumberjack than a guy who played bar trivia.

“Honey, wearelooking at him,” Brynne laughed. “And he’s looking at you.”

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