Page 25 of Scattered Glitter

“All right, fine.” I laugh, my heart still racing. “You win this round, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He grins, leaning even closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “I sure hope not.”

When the homeowner goes back inside, Ace stands, and I follow suit.

“Your turn,” I challenge, ready to do the next reckless thing. “Let’s see what you got.”

“I dare you to hold my hand.”

I pause, and something shifts in the air between us. His tone is different, softer.

Fuck.

This takes so much more nerve than the doorbell, but I reach out and take his hand, my fingers curling around his.

“Good,” he whispers. “Now, I dare you to come to my place.”

A thrill runs through me at his words, excitement, and nerves. I laugh to cover it up. “First of all, it’s my turn. And secondly, how come we only ever pick dare and never truth?”

He cups my cheek with his free hand, his thumb tracing my cheekbone and sending goose bumps erupting on my arms.

“Because we’re both made out of the same stuff, Trouble,” he murmurs. “Neither of us is afraid to jump, even when we don’t know where we’re gonna land.”

I swallow hard, caught off guard by his intensity, the way he’s looking at me like he can see straight into my soul. For a second, I forget to breathe. I forget everything but the feel of his hand on my cheek and the heat in his gaze.

Fuck it.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go home with you.”

Ace’s lips curl into a slow smile, then he leads me down the street to the gnome, collecting his underwear before we head toward his place. When he squeezes my hand, it’s the first time in a long while that I don’t want to run away. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

A faint glow of a garage light spills out onto the driveway like last time, the low murmur of voices and the smell of cigarette smoke hitting me. A group of men is hanging around the garage, their laughter cutting through the quiet night. Ace’s arm comes around my waist and pulls me close, and the tension builds in my chest.

One of the men, I’d guess he’s in his forties, who has the same blond hair as Ace, looks up as we approach. His blue eyes narrow slightly, studying me with a look that makes me feel as if I’m being sized up.

“Who’s this?” the man asks gruffly, carrying an edge of authority. It takes me a second to realize this must be Ace’s dad.

“Trouble,” Ace states casually, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that makes me pause. “She’s my girl.”

His girl?

I sneak a glance at him, but Ace’s focus is still on his dad. His father’s eyes flick over me once more, but there’s no malice, only… measuring. Weighing.And then, a slow nod. “All right, Trouble. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, having no idea what that’s supposed to mean and still stuck on that word. Girl.Hisgirl.

Ace leads me into the house and down a narrow hallway to his room, which is pure chaos. There are clothes everywhere, posters barely tacked to the walls, playing cards scattered around, and the unmistakable scent of him fills the space.My eyes dart around, trying to take it all in, but it’s hard to focus when my mind is racing.

“I know, it’s a mess,” he says, stepping in front of me.

I cross my arms, leaning back against the closed door. “Yourgirl?”

“Caught that, huh?” The hint of a smile blooms on his face as he reaches out, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and every nerve in my body feels as though it’s just caught fire.“I knew it the moment I saw you,” he murmurs, his eyes tracing the path of his thumb. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not skipping the work to get there. It’s the best part. But if my old man knows you’re mine, you’re gonna have some perks.”

His words are bold, and my heart is doing that stupid flutter thing again. I want to play it cool, but it comes out small. “So, you simply decided I’m yours?”

“Of course not. You have a say in it.” Ace tilts his head, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You wanna be mine, Trouble? Because damn, I’m already yours.”

My heart is hammering now, but this stubborn voice in my head won’t quit, and it sounds a lot like Rosalee. “Do you say that to all the girls you want to get in bed with?”

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