Page 4 of Built for Dreams

She opened her mouth to apologize, but then it snapped shut, anger crossing her features. “You again?” she sneered.

I sighed. “Sweetheart, you crashed into me,” I reminded her. I looked pointedly at my spilled beer. “I had to drop my beer to catch you.”

She cringed then, casting her eyes down to the ground where my beer was seeping into the dry ground. “Sorry,” she muttered. I released her, and she took a quick step back. Crouching, I grabbed the ruined beer and her phone. The screen was shattered. I held it out to her. She blew out a harsh breath, running her finger over the screen. “Great,” she grumbled.

“I’ll get you a new phone,” I blurted before I could even think about what I was offering. She arched a brow at me. Fuck, this woman was cool as a cucumber, and something about the way she seemed to almost look down on me, as if I was beneath her, nothing more than dirt on the bottom of her shoe, had my cock hard as a rock behind my zipper. “Call it an apology gift for me almost running you over earlier, which I’m really fucking sorry about, by the way.”

A small smile tilted her lips, and something sassy lit up her eyes. My heart skipped a beat in my chest. Christ, this woman had me wrapped around her finger. Had barely spoken more than a few words to her, and I was already done for.

I was going to lose my bet with Elliot, and I didn’t even fucking care. We’d made a bet—two hundred dollars—that I wouldn’t fall in love within a year. Two hundred dollars was nothing if it meant I got to keep this spitfire of a gorgeous blonde standing in front of me.

“I want the most expensive Android phone available on the market,” she told me.

I nodded once. “Done.” I took a step back, a smirk tilting my lips when her jaw dropped. She gaped at me.

“I was only joking!” she exclaimed.

I winked at her. “I already said done, sweetheart. I’ll have the phone for you tomorrow morning.” I held up my ruined beer, not even upset about it. Dropping that beer had given me the opportunity I needed to talk to her and make things right—set us on the right path so I could have her as mine. And Iwouldmake her mine—no doubt about that. “And don’t worry about how I’ll find you.” I smirked at her. “I have my ways.”

With that, I spun on my heel and walked over to the guys, a shit-eating grin tilting my lips. Elliot cackled and held his hand out, wiggling his fingers. “Give me my money, fucker.”

I snorted and pulled out my wallet, slapping two hundred dollars in his hand without even putting up a fight. Because I knew it as well as they did.

I was a fucking goner over Selma.

* * *

“They’re drunk,” Bentley complained as he walked out of the clubhouse, loud laughter ringing out behind him before the door shut. He had a soda in his hand, and he held a beer out to me. I grabbed the fresh, cold can from him and ruffled his hair.

“Thanks, kid.”

“How drunk?” Adler asked. The kids had been put in Adler’s old room about an hour ago, and they were passed out from running around and playing all day. Stars hung in the sky above us, and the moon glowed onto the lot, lighting up the areas that the streetlight didn’t hit, making it easy to see.

“Verydrunk,” Bentley told him. “Mikayla is barely making any sense.”

Beau sighed, then downed the rest of his drink. “Welp…” he muttered, tossing his empty beer can into the trash can nearest us, “looks like I need to get my drunk ass woman home.” He handed Bentley his truck keys. “You up for driving, bud?”

Bentley beamed and eagerly nodded his head, clutching the keys in his hand. I clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Be careful, kid,” I told him. He was still getting used to driving. What Beau was offering him was huge.

He nodded. “I will. I promise.”

We headed inside the clubhouse as Bentley made his way to the truck. Sure enough, the girls were drunk as fuck. Mikayla was sprawled out on the floor, her words so heavily slurred, I could barely understand what she was saying. Selma was leaning against the wall, her fingers loosely wrapped around a damn near empty Vodka bottle, her eyes not even open.

She was going to definitely feel that in the morning.

“Alright, goldie. Let’s get home,” Beau said, lifting Mikayla from the floor.

She groaned, her arms sloppily wrapping around his neck. “You’re such a good man,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his throat.

He chuckled and began walking to the door. I dropped to my knees in front of Selma, grabbing the bottle from her limp fingers. She opened her eyes for a moment before her head lolled onto her shoulder, her violet eyes shutting again. They were the prettiest fucking eyes I’d ever seen.

“Alright, sweetheart,” I murmured, sliding my arms beneath her. She moaned low in her throat, her head falling against my shoulder now that she was cradled against my chest. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“M’kay,” she mumbled, her arms wrapping around my shoulders only to fall again. “Heavy,” she slurred.

I chuckled. She wassowasted. “You’ll feel better in the morning,” I assured her as I headed toward the stairs near the clubhouse doors. I slowly made my way up them and down the hall to my apartment, which was the last one on the right. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she curled up on her side, falling into a deep sleep.

I pulled her shoes off and then tugged the comforter over her before turning on the lamp. I knew my way around my apartment like the back of my hand, but she didn’t, and if she needed to get up in the middle of the night, I wanted her to be able to find her way around.

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