Page 4 of Treat

“The Yankees.”

He frowned. “That’s a baseball team.”

She widened her eyes in an expression of exaggerated surprise. “Really?”

“Ha, ha,” he said, then paused. “You do know who won the Cup, though, right?”

“Well, I know it wasn’t you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” she said, biting her lip. He looked genuinely pained, and she had to quell the urge to cuddle him.No cuddling, you slut.She cleared her throat and tried to come up with a neutral topic. “You grew a mustache.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He reached up to stroke it. “My sister made me grow it.”

She jerked her gaze away from his stroking hand. “Why?”

“Because we were playing Insult Scrabble, and I lost.”

She waited a beat. “Okay, maybe I do have a concussion because I didn’t understand any of that.”

“Insult Scrabble is just Scrabble, but you can only play words that are insults,” he explained.

She nodded, like this was a thing normal people did. “Sure, sure.”

“I played ‘dick’ and she added ‘cheeze’ with a ‘z’ for a triple word score.” He scowled. “Little shit got ninety-six points.”

She frowned. “That’s now how cheese is spelled.”

“I know, right? But the judge overruled me, and now I have to keep this thing for six months.”

“Who was the judge?”

He scowled even harder. “My mom.”

“Your family sounds…”

“You can say it. They’re assholes.”

“I was going to say nice.”

He smiled, dimples appearing at the edges of his mustache. “They’re that, too.”

Okay, she couldn’t just sit there and look at a mustacheanddimples while wearing just a t-shirt and panties. There was only so much a person could take. “Can I get up now?”

“If you’re sure you’re up to it.”

“I am,” she assured him. “Um, can you move?”

He pushed smoothly to his feet, reaching down a hand to help her to hers. With no other choice, she took it.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly when she was standing—way too close to him—and tried to take a step back only to collide with the bed.

“Whoa.” He grabbed her shoulders before she could fall again. “Are you dizzy?”

“No, I just forgot where the bed was.” Damn, damn, damn. Her shirt had fallen off her right shoulder and his hand was warm and firm and gentle, sending tingles racing under her skin.

God, so many tingles.

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