Page 38 of Perfect Pact

Score!

“I’m an engineer. I’ve had my hand in designing some of the top computerized machines in the industry.”

“So, you’re a nerd?”

“Do I look like a nerd?” His baby blues challenge mine, and I force myself not to drag my eyes down his body.

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

He raises his eyebrows at me.

“The job, Dusty. The job. Whose mind is in the gutter now?”

I shouldn’t enjoy sparring with him so much.

This isn’t normal, right?

“Yeah…I fix things for a living. Well, not really. I tell people how to fix things for a living.”

“See!” I playfully jab my finger in his chest. “I knew you didn’t get your hands dirty.”

“But I can.”

I hate that the longer I’m forced to endure him, the more I want to find out.

Dusty

She declared war.

I was just the first to fire.

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to back down, but I never claimed to be one. At least, not around her. Beth is feisty, determined, and a total turn on. And unfortunately for her, pushing her buttons is the highlight of my day.

Beth may act like she hates it, but we both know it’s leading to more. She just needs to agree to the date so she can see for herself and admit we’re undeniable.

I had my suspicions that when she woke up her first stop would be Java Jitters. So, I called and sure enough an anonymous customer purchased all the raspberry lemon tarts to giveaway to the first few customers and they were already gone. Which means she was taking a detour to the Sweet Spot.

I don’t regret buying them out. Not for a single second. Not if it meant she was sure to hunt me down each morning to argue. Some couples talk. We argue. Some guys send flowers. I apparently steal pastries. Tomato, tomah-to.

It’s not like I was intentionally spying on her, but when I was walking out of Everything But Beer with my fancy new fishing pole and saw her dart into the lumber yard I figured the only neighborly thing to do was see if she needed any help. So, I did the sensible thing, gave my pole to some kid walking buy, jogged across the street, and entered the store via the garden center.

For all she knew I was there first. Which would undoubtedly frustrate the hell out of her.

I can’t help but notice she has these certain little quirks when she’s mad. I should know, I get to see them regularly thanks to our little war. Like the way her nostrils flare just a little when she’s holding in her frustration, the stomp in her walk when she’s coming at me or the way she crosses her arms over her chest which naturally draws my eyes there.I mean I am a dude.

But my personal favorite is the way her cheeks flush, I know it’s a result of her being pissed off, but I can’t help but think it’s also because she’s feeling it too.

Whatever the hellitis—chemistry, sexual tension, today she was beet red. Which means I was on her mind when she was in aisle five. She was literally screwed. But it was me who was figuratively screwed, because as much as I annoy that girl… I have to admit she gets under my skin just the same.

I rush to make my other stops before racing to beat her home.

Looks like I wasn’t fast enough.

“Is that?” I strain my eyes, trying to see if it really is what I think it is. Or, better yet,who. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I can’t help but laugh.

Beth is running back and forth from the barn to the side of my house where the old red yard hydrant is located. Hose over her shoulder, she runs like she’s a contestant on one of those fireman combat courses.

It’s funny that she thinks she has to go to these lengths to use the water. The barn runs off my meter. I pay her damn bill, and she doesn’t even know it. Either this chick really hates me or I fluster her. I’m going with the latter.

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