Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Hope you don’t feel emasculated,” she says as she directs us to a table.
“It takes more than a lady ordering her own drink to threaten my manhood.”
But I get it. Sloane’s determined to let me know I’m on her turf. She’s holding the reins to this date and I’m along for ride. Knowing her, she intends to put me through the wringer and see what’s left when I come out the other side. But whatever tests she can engineer, I’m ready. I wouldn’t have started the chase if I didn’t know what I’d do when I caught her.
“So what do you think?” I nod toward the band, who are set up on the floor against the far wall, framed by the restrooms and kitchen on either side. This place is a dump. But it’s growing on me?
“They’re loud,” she says.
I nod in agreement. “They do seem to think decibel level is a replacement for talent.”
That makes her snicker. “I mean, he’s almost getting the lyrics right.”
“Words are hard,” I say solemnly, which earns me another laugh, this one lighting up her entire face. Christ, she’s gorgeous.
Then, as if realizing she’d lowered her guard for an entire second, Sloane’s gray eyes narrow at me. “Be honest.” She sits across from me at the table, which won’t do if I’m going to steer tonight toward something more productive than an expensive interrogation.
“What?”
“I said—”
I lean in, pretending not to hear until she huffs and slides her chair next to mine. So fucking easy.
“Tell me the truth,” she says. “We’re only here because you want to piss off Duke, right?”
“I asked you out before I ever knew about you and Duke,” I point out. “So, no, that’s not why we’re here.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes can be damn potent when she turns on the intensity. “You’re saying there’s no part of you that enjoys getting to Duke?”
“Being honest?” I shrug. “Sure. His power trip rubs me the wrong way. So maybe I don’t mind shoving his face in it.”
“Thought so. I appreciate the honesty.”
“But.” I lift a brow. “I asked you out because I want to get to know you.” I pause. “And because you’re a drop-dead stunner.”
She cracks an embarrassed smile and turns her face to cover her flushed cheeks as she takes a swig of her beer.
“So for me, I don’t really see a downside there. Call it a win-win.”
“Fuck off,” she says over the rim of the bottle. It’s adorable the way she rolls her eyes because she can’t take a compliment. Nothing more offensive than someone being nice to her.
“Yeah?” I grab my beer and half stand like I’m ready to bail. “I can get out of here if you—”
“Stop it.” She laughs despite herself. “Sit down.”
It works, though. Chips away at the glacial layer of primordial ice around her. Sloane wants to come off like being here is some major imposition, but I can’t help feeling, somehow, she’s the one who asked me out. She walked me into her snare and I’m exactly where she wants me, even if admitting it would nearly kill her.
“You know, it’s weird,” I remark. “I never saw myself dating a jock.”
“One date.” She points the lip of her bottle at me. “Not dating.”
“Give it time.”
After another swig, Sloane seems to settle in. She relaxes a bit into her seat and stops acting like she’s conducting a job interview. For the first time, it feels like we’re having a real conversation and not circling each other in a standoff.
“And if this was the cafeteria,” she asks. “What table would you be sitting at?”
“Me? Nah, I don’t subscribe to the table-based profiling system.”
“No, you’re right. I picture you smoking under the bleachers with the other misfits.”
“Because if we can’t be reduced to a member of the Breakfast Club, what’s the point, right?”
“Oh, so he’s a sensitive misfit.”
I love the way she laughs. Her mouth turns up on one side and her eyebrow arches. It’s stupid how sexy that is. If Sloane threw a wink my way, that look could have me robbing a bank. She’s got a smile that begs to cross the desert in a convertible with a sawed-off shotgun in her lap and a suitcase full of cash in the back.
“All right, your turn.” I set my elbows on the table and dare her to hold eye contact. “Tell me something real about yourself.”
“Real, huh?” She ponders her response while cautiously sipping her beer. “Like what?”
“Anything.” It’s all been surface level with us so far. Which is fine enough for figuring out whether you want to hook up with a chick. Now that I’ve got her here, I have to admit I’m curious. “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?”
Sloane’s playful smile retreats behind her implacable mask of cool assuredness. She sets her bottle aside and stands.