Page 50 of The Pocket Pair

“Let me get you some ice. You’re getting quite the goose egg.”

When he disappears, I skim my fingertips over my forehead. Yep—there is a sizable knot swelling right in the center.

Fantastic. Just what every woman wants when trying to relocate out of the friendzone. A giant, sexy knot on the forehead. Sooooo attractive!

Chevy returns with a baggy filled with crushed ice.

“You don’t need to—”

I stop talking when his hand slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he tenderly presses the ice to my forehead.

I rescind my earlier statement: Bumps on the head are the best! Five out of five stars. Would definitely recommend.

“I’m so sorry,” Chevy says again, shaking his head. “I didn’t think the bed would act like a trampoline.”

“It’s okay.”

It really is. Because anything that buys me a little more time with Chevy is all good with me. Especially when he’s cupping my head and leaning close. The ice—I could do without. It’s freakishly cold. But I will suffer facial frostbite to have Chevy holding me like this.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he says.

“No one tosses a dwarf.” I did NOT mean to say that out loud. I hazard a glance at Chevy, who looks understandably confused. “Sorry. Lord of the Rings quote,” I explain.

“Is that still your favorite movie?” he asks, smiling. “I should really get around to watching.”

“Movies. Plural. It’s a trilogy. And have you really not seen them?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“We need to remedy this fact. Otherwise, you’re really not fit to be a member of society.”

“Is that so?”

“Totally so. Plus, you’ll never understand half my quotes. It’s like I’ll be speaking another language.”

“Then I definitely need to see them.”

Our faces are close. His brown eyes search mine, and his hand flexes on the back of my head.

Darcy hand flex! I think, because even though I’ve never seen any of the movies or read the book, EVERYONE knows about the Darcy hand flex.

Before I can read too much into the movement or the way his pupils have dilated into inky black pools, Chevy presses the bag of ice into my hand and backs quickly toward the door.

“Sorry again about that whole thing. I’m just gonna head to bed. You know.”

“Okay?” What hurts more than the bump on my head is the continual case of Chevy-induced whiplash I’m suffering from.

“Cool deal.”

And then, while I watch, Chevy shoots me a pair of finger guns then disappears slamming the door behind him.

CHAPTER 16

Chevy

Finger guns.

I, a grown man, a homeowner, a responsible citizen and officer of the law, practically bolted from Val’s room last night after giving her … finger guns. And that was after doing my best impression of a caber toss with her body and leaving her with a knot on her forehead.

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