Page 141 of Mr. Flirt

Until she opened her mouth.

“You’re the one I gave chance after chance to, and look where it left me.”

I wasn’t quite sure where that was, so I grinned. “You were stubborn back when we dated. What’s that saying? A leopard never changes its spots?”

Her gaze ran up and down my body, and she pretended to look annoyed. But her soft brown eyes gave it away

“Would you mind at least putting a shirt on?” She moved her folded arms from her chest and put her hands on her hips for a change.

“Does my overt masculinity bother you?” I mused. “Or is it my overall sexiness and toned physique?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Is this what usually works in a small town?”

I laughed. “Beats me. I haven’t been to a small town since I came back to help my uncle.”

Grace nodded slowly. “I heard about that. It’s really nice of you to lend a helping hand.”

“It’s the least I could do. His brother is a little tied up with his own shenanigans.”

“You mean Millie Bailey?” She smiled, and her cheeks flamed red. “Sorry. I just learned about my grandma’s fling.”

“Oh, Grace. I don’t think it’s a fling.” He smiled. “Has she ever told you about their history?”

She frowned. “No.”

“You should ask her.”

Her frown deepened, which only made her cuter.

Okay, downright sexy with her short shorts and barely there tank.

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

I shrugged, kind of liking that I had something to annoy her about. Of course, it didn’t exactly equal being left in the dust by my girlfriend of four years and best friend of nine all those years ago, but I’d take what I could get at this point.

“Telephone games. Things always get screwed up in translation,” I informed her.

She pressed her lips together. “Fine. What about that shirt?”

I smiled and nodded. “Right. I’ll go grab it.”

“Thanks,” she grumbled and went to take a step, but she exhaled a wail, and I grabbed her before she hit the ground.

Her fists pounded against my chest, and she squealed in pain and frustration. “Let me go.”

“Are you sure? Looks like you’ll hit the ground pretty hard if I do.”

“Just...” She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“How about I carry you to my truck, get you tucked in, and then I’ll come back and grab your bike?”

She let out a deep breath which skated across my chest, and I clutched her a little tighter.

“You don’t have totuck me in, and you still need a shirt.”

I smiled to myself and ignored her direction as I hauled her over to the truck, opened it with one hand while balancing her in my other arm, and set her on the old vinyl seat.

The smell of the warm plastic in the old truck pushed me back a few decades as she scrambled to buckle herself in before I closed the creaky old metal door with a thud. She rolled down the window manually and watched me wander over to her bike.

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