Page 116 of Wrong For You

I blink, and the haze evaporates. What the actual eff was that? I look down at the child in question and wait for him to answer. He’s squirming all about. Ollie barely gives his father a second glance, too busy studying the assortment of candy on display. But no worries. I’m giving this man more attention than he needs anyway. I can hardly take my peepers off him.

Ollie lingers for another beat, then quickly dashes to the taffy bins. I see him move from one to the next in my peripheral vision.

“Need a camera?”

I startle at the harsh growl. “Huh?”

“Then you can take a picture.” His frosty blue eyes narrow on me, and I’m frozen in place.

“Excuse me?” Why is my voice so breathy?

“It’ll last longer.” He raises a dark brow.

Clarity seeps into my stupor, and the urge to tuck tail streaks through me. But I don’t. I raise my chin and openly appraise him. “I like your suit.”

“It’s custom fit.”

“Looks that way.”

He crosses his arms and stands straighter. “You’re not my type, taffy girl.”

I fight the urge to scratch my temple, being stumped again. “Okay?”

“Stare all you want. It’ll get you nowhere.” He points between us. “Never gonna happen.”

For a moment, all I can do is gape at him. I feel my face go up in flames. Is he for freaking real?

“I w-wasn’t… no, I didn’t mean,” I sputter. “I’m not hitting on you.”

His smirk is devilish. “Save it for the judge, sugar. I get it.”

Before I can defend myself, Ollie zips toward us and smiles at me. “Do you like my dad?”

Everything inside of me skids to a stop. I pop my mouth open, but nothing comes out. My throat is a tight fist, and swallowing is a challenge. How the hell do I respond to that?

I tug at the collar of my shirt. “Uh, well, we haven’t really met. I don’t even know his name.”

Ollie’s gaze bounces between us. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” There’s no hesitation. Throwing this cocky dick under the bus is an easy decision.

The ass glares at me. “We didn’t get that far.”

Ollie shakes a finger at his dad. “That’s not polite. You’re supposed to do introductions first. That’s what you taught me.”

He remains silent, thoroughly scolded by a child. Ollie huffs loudly. I lift a hand to cover my growing smile. Something tells me this imposing man wouldn’t appreciate my humor.

“Brance Stone,” he finally offers. A weaker woman might wither under that icy stare. Too bad for him, I’m all out of shits to give.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Braelyn Miller.” I plaster on an extra wide grin for good measure.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Likewise.”

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