Page 122 of The Love Haters

Nobody volunteered.

That’s when Cole decided to up the ante. “The winner,” he declared then, gesturing at me likeBehold!, “gets a kiss from my girlfriend.”

What?!

I stood up—as did Hutch.

“Cole!” I hissed.

But now he was getting some interest.

I waved my hand at the handful of dudes rising off their chairs. “He’s kidding!” I called. I wanted to add,I’m not even his girlfriend—but, of course, I couldn’t.

“I’m not kidding,” Cole said. “Who wants her?”

The dudes started closing in on us with notable zombie apocalypse energy.

In response, Hutch stepped between them and me, and—I think—flexed all his shoulder muscles.

“Cole!” I said. “This isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Cole said.

“Shut this down,” I said. “You can’t offer me to a bar full of drunk men!”

“I’m not offering you. They’re going to try to win you, fair and square. Every contest needs a prize.”

“I’m not a prize,” I said, glaring at him.

“I think, actually, you are,” Cole said, looking over at Hutch.

And then I got it. This was all to get Hutch motivated. He was using Hutch’s good-heartedness against him. Again.

“You don’t get to decide who kisses me and who doesn’t,” I said, on principle, even as, if I’m totally honest, I felt a little flicker in my chest at the idea of Hutch stepping in. Hutch was protecting me. That kind of thing didn’t exactly happen every day.

“So?” Cole said to the room then—watching Hutch. “Who’s it going to be?”

Hutch turned to Cole, like he knew exactly what he was up to.

It was so weird to now be on Cole’s side. But can you blame me?

Come on, Hutch.

Hutch turned back to the room. “Please take your seats, gentlemen. Nobody’s drinking against my brother but me.”

I held my breath. Hutch was doing this?What if he won?What if he crushed the contest, and,darn it, I was forced to kiss him—because those were just the rules? Would that be the worst tragedy in the world?

Cole seemed a little surprised that his ploy worked. “Really?”

Hutch sighed. “You really seem to want this.”

“I do,” Cole said. “I absolutely do.”

Hutch spun his chair around and sat down decisively on it—backward. He leaned forward and said, “Then your wish is my command.”

I’d never seen a drinking contest before. I didn’t even think they happened in real life. Drinkinggames? Sure. But contests? What was the point? How did anybody even win?

“How does this work?” I asked. “Does somebody have to pass out? Or throw up?”

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