Page 47 of The Backup Groom
The skeptical look on her face told me she didn’t believe me, but lucky for me, she didn’t continue with the topic. “Ready to lose?”
I gave a half shrug. “There’s nothing I can do if you get lucky.”
She gave me a knowing grin. “Luck or not, I’m going to find out all of your dirty little secrets.”
“Good luck with that.” I pointed to her and joked, “And no cheating.”
“Me?” she said, the look of sheer innocence on her face. “I would never.” She stepped closer and picked something off my shirt and dropped it to the ground. “You smell like chocolate.”
And you smell like heaven.
She tugged on my sleeve. “I really like this shirt.”
Her fingers brushing against my skin sent tingles to my—
“It fits you well,” she added, smiling. “And it really accentuates your shoulders and arms.”
Was she flirting with me?
I swallowed hard. “Thanks.”
Reciprocate with a compliment.
Say something, you idiot!
“And that skirt really accentuates your . . .” I glanced down at the sexiest pair of legs I had seen in my life. I became flustered, completely drawing a blank. “Kneecaps.”
Kneecaps?
Really?
That makes no sense!
Nothing accentuates kneecaps!
Idiot!
Amber gave me a coy look. “Well, it’s good to know my daily kneecap routine is paying off.” Her eyes darted to my chest and biceps, before she spun around in her skirt and headed to the other side of the court.
Okay, what was that look she gave me right there?
If that wasn’t flirting, I didn’t know what was.
My imagination took over, taking me to a place where I was certain she liked me as much as I liked her. My brain brought me back to reality to let me know she was playing with me. Amber knew the power she held over me and had no plan to show me any mercy. She was using it to her advantage, no doubt.
Pulling the racket out of my bag, I banged on the strings twice with the palm of my hand, then began playing them like a guitar. At that moment, I realized just how scatter-brained I was and that I didn’t stand a chance against Amber.
After a few stretches, I walked to my side of the court, ready to hit a few balls with her for a little bit. The strokes came a little harder each time as we loosened up and became more accustomed to the other player’s style and level of play. Amber was good.
Really good.
She approached the net and waved me over. “Ready to play?” she asked, grimacing like she was going to tear me apart.
I appreciated her game face. “Let’s do it.”
“Hey—have you ever heard of strip tennis?” Amber asked.
I blinked, not sure if it was a question or an invitation. I can only imagine the peculiar look I must have had on my face when she replied.
