Page 136 of Rough Around the Hedges

I glanced at Oliver.

His gaze was firmly fixed on me, and there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. “This feels like a trap.”

“I would never,” I replied, blinking innocently. I offered him my best sweet smile. “I really would do it myself, but with my lip, I just can’t.” I sighed as if it were a true hardship. “Take one for the team, would you?”

He stared at me for a moment, lips curved to one side, gaze uncomfortably intense.

He knew.

I knew he knew.

And he knew that I knew that he knew.

It was a silent battle of wills. Would he give in to my obvious trap? Or would he refuse?

He drew in a deep breath and held out his hand. “Pass one here, George.”

Oh, my God.

I thought he would refuse.

Cara watched with wide eyes as George snipped a chilli from the plant and handed it to Oliver, and I winced as he bit into it with zero hesitation.

Oh.

This man was a fool.

He screwed his face up as the heat hit, and a flicker of guilt rose within me. My mouth was still burning, and I’d had that magical matcha whatsit to cool me down.

His eyes watered, with one tear running down his cheek, and he raised his hand.

“No!” I bolted across my plot to him and grabbed his wrist just before he could touch his face. “Do not touch your eyes, idiot!”

He peeked one eye open. “I was going to wipe my cheek,” he rasped out.

I did it for him, swiping away that tear, and shoved the remaining water in his hand. “Drink that.”

“Open it for me,” he murmured. “My mouth hurts, and it’s your fault.”

I unscrewed the cap and as I gave him the water, whispered, “You knew what I was doing. You’re a fool.”

He chuckled softly. “Only for you.”

I jolted back as if his words had burnt me, and my cheeks were almost warmer than my mouth.

Cara glanced between us before a sly smile appeared on her face. She shot me a covert thumbs up, and I glared at her.

Trust the teenager not to miss a trick.

Oliver smiled as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. He took several gulps, finishing off the water, then wiped his arm across his forehead. “Pretty hot that, George. Carolina Reaper or something like that, right?”

“That’s what the label says.” He held up the lolly stick. “Well, your reaction wasn’t half as amusing as Rose’s,” he grumbled, shoving the stick into the pot.

“Wait. Back up.” I eyed Oliver. “Is your mouth not on fire? How are you not dying right now? It’s been twenty minutes, and my tongue feels like it’s been scraped over hot coals.”

“You’ve got a brain in there, princess. Use it.” He poked my forehead. “I knew exactly what you were doing—I figured it would be super-hot, but I can handle spicy stuff well, so I thought, why not? Plus, I just really wanted to see this look of frustration on your face right now.” He grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks together. “It’s not often I get to one up you, you know.”

God, he was irritating.

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