Page 59 of Garrison's Creed

“Pretty sure you do.” A pissed-off Nicola was cute. The madder, the cuter. Bet she’d get furious if he told her as much. “There’s nothing to be jealous—”

“Are you kidding me? Jealous? Hardly.” She scooted farther away and leaned against her door. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Sugar, for that matter, is ten shades past ridiculous.”

Silence except for the click-cl-click, click-cl-click of the blinker when he changed lanes. Everyone was ridiculous? She might as well have a banner proclaiming the same thing about herself.

“The lady doth protest too much.”

Nicola smirked. “She’s quite the girl, that Sugar. Your type is so… slutty.”

You know what? Enough with this.

He pulled over. Hard. Dirt and gravel spun cycles in the wheel wells. The truck rocked over a bump on the shoulder.

“Why are you so mad? I didn’t know you were alive! Fuck.” He unsnapped his seatbelt and turned, hand gestures flying. “It wasn’t serious, so what’s your problem?”

Nicola didn’t answer. Her fingers drummed on her thigh.

“Nicola, what do you want from me?”

She didn’t turn to look him in the eye. “She’s re-selling from an illegal arms dealer.”

He shrugged. “We don’t know what’s going on there. And that’s not your problem, is it?”

Now she pinned him with a glare. “She’s a slut.”

“She’s a cool chick and not a girlfriend. Not relationship material. Not that I wanted a relationship with anyone. She’s a flirt. And I am—was—whatever—by myself. She didn’t want anything other than to shoot guns and… it worked out.”

“Sure seemed into a relationship with you this morning.”

“I didn’t say Sugar wasn’t competitive.”

Nicola snorted. “Ha. Competitive.”

He grabbed the gearshift but didn’t take it out of park. They should hit the road. Sitting here wasn’t doing either of them a lick of good. “I’m sure you’ve been the poster child for abstinence over the last decade.”

She rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet.

“I didn’t take you for a quitter, sweet girl.”

Her face screwed up tightly. “I’m not a quitter.”

“But you can walk away from us again?”

“There is no you and me, Cash. It was an old habit.”

“Bull-fuckin’-shit.”

“You’re—”

His lips covered hers. How he crossed the space, he had no recollection. The only thing he knew was she smelled sweet, tasted sweeter, and kissing her was the only thing he’d wanted to do since Sugar walked into the room.

Her smartass remark morphed into a kiss. It melted against him, then roared to life. The air sizzled and popped. Her hands wrapped into his shirt. Yeah, there was no easy walking away. There was a spark. Hell, more than a spark. It was a smoldering ember that had blazed unattended and ignored. With a gust of wind, a sweet kiss, a hot night in bed—whoosh—they had wildfire. And he wanted to chase it down to see how hot it could be.

Her tongue teased his. Firecrackers spun and sparkled, rocketing his body to life. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he lost focus. He wanted to growl the goddamn truth to Nic. Until they weren’t, they were together. He wanted to—a car flew by too flipping close to his truck, honking a horn.

Whoa.He had to calm this down. They were on the side of the road, for chrissake.

Her lips slowed to brush his. “Maybe I was a little jealous.”

---