Page 18 of False Start

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“Are you ever not a smart-ass?”he said, cutting me with a hard glare from warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners.

Brown fucking eyes like melted chocolate, with threads of caramel swirled in. Eyes of a languid lover smoldering with heat and promise.

God, I hate that I noticed. And maybe that was my problem with him all along.

His presence.

Commanding attention with a heavy silence, he held it in his grasp with the silent storm raging in his eyes, making me want to get closer and run all at the same time.

Making me want to hear his secrets, but only from him so he could consume me with the way they rolled off his scathing tongue.

All starting from that metal folding chair outside the track.

If only he’d keep his mouth shut because every observation, every question, every biting reply washed over me like the frigid, unforgiving Atlantic in early February.

And that was the only reason my nipples had perked up.

The cold water.

Not the eyes.

Or the forearms. Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten those. If anything, I may have imagined sinking my teeth into them.

I flashed him a grin, my smile dialed to eat-me-fucker. “Smart-ass is the only mood I’ve got.”

Shoving his hand through his short-cropped hair, he shook his head. “One thing I didn’t miss? The attitudes.”

“I can’t begin to imagine why you even care about a pinched nerve.” I fought the urge to spin away from the gust of air sweeping through the parking lot. My Henley tee had nothing on frigid late fall air. Early December temperatures sat firmly in the mid-thirties, but with the breeze rolling in off the ocean, the chill bit into my skin leaving a bone-deep cold even the sun burning in the cloudless sky couldn’t penetrate.

“It’s not a pinched nerve,” he muttered as he snatched his jacket from his elbow. His confidence, the arrogance, it poked at me and sizzled like a brand sparking my own flash of temper.

I gnashed my teeth and swallowed the snarl that bubbled in my throat. “So, this is about being right? Aren’t you a fucking charmer? It’s my body. I think I’m the first one to know when something goes wrong in there and I’d know if it was a rib.”

Arms hanging casually at his sides, but his shoulders rigid and ready to fight, he took a step toward me, the jacket swaying from where it dangled from his fingertips. “I think you don’t know shit about your own body. If you did, you’d know it’s your rib.”

“Fine, Doc. How is it possible for it to be my rib?” I asked, hoping to give him enough rope to hang himself. There’s no way he had a hundred percent accuracy rate in the confidence department. Especially considering his history.

He snorted as if the answer was obvious. The sound, a verbal pat on the head dismissing me like I was daft. “Because you took six elbows last night playing like shit. That’s all it takes. Lucky for you, I can fix it.”

He poked at the festering wound that never really healed. I knew I let Tilly get to me. I sure as hell didn’t need him to swoop into town and point out the obvious. Every time I let her get in my head, I told myself it was the last time. But the minute our skates met the concrete in the same jam, I was right back there—seething—stuck in a constant loop of taking hits from her, some of her worst barbs whispered with poison until I was that kid again.

Alone.

Terrified.

And defenseless.

Fortunately, I had no such history with the six-foot-tall mountain of conceit smirking before me. I took a step back, glanced over the railing to the ground below, then eyed him from head to toe. “You know, forget me taking you over the railing with me. How about I just shove your ass over and be done with you?”

“You wish. More like you’re going to lean against that railing, cross your arms over your chest, and then I’m going to bend you over backwards and see how flexible you really are.”

We both froze, the suggestive words hanging between us for a beat, two beats, and three.

“That’s a whole lot of your front against my front and I’m not cool with that.” The conviction in my voice just seconds before fled entirely, abandoning me when I needed the armor the most.

“I’m not thrilled about it either.” His eyes fell away from mine and his gaze traveled over me, touching every point from my chin to my fucking feet.

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