Page 22

“What’s so funny?”

Eventually, he recovered himself enough to drag out some words. “I know they say you should watch out for the quietones, but crochet and cornhole? Cheerleading and community theater? You’re not leaving me much to work with.”

I scowled. At least, I hoped I did. I wanted him to see how much I didn’t appreciate his mockery. “I’ll have you know, some folks don’t consider me boring. Besides, I can be wild.”

His eyebrows lifted, and his lips settled into a smirk. “Really?”

My blood simmered, and I fought the impulse to stamp my foot. “Yes! I’ve had sex with almost strangers.”

His eyes widened, but his stubborn smile remained. “You have?”

“Yes. Twice.”

As the glee danced in his eyes, I swear my insides curled up and died.

“Just twice?”

I leveled a glare at him. “I suppose you’ve had lots of sex with people you’ve only just met, Mr. Bigshot.”

Brody ground out a laugh. “Perhaps more than twice.”

A twinge tugged at my gut, and I swallowed away a nasty taste. I had no right to be jealous. No matter how much my body disagreed, I shouldn’t be thinking about Brody in anything other than a sisterly way.

I played with the thin lace of the skate in my lap and dared a glance at him. His eyes were still full on me, the corners of his mouth wearing little indents where they turned up.

“You’re too cute,” he said.

Instead of pleasing me, his words heated my blood to a simmer. How patronizing. “I’m not cute. I’m kick-ass.”

“Prove it,” he said, giving the table a gentle slap. “Try out for the derby team.”

A fizzing bubbled up my chest. “I already have a lot going on.” Did I really expect him to believe that? We’d spent almost aweek in the same house. He’d know I had the social presence of a hermit crab.

“Come on, Ro. Get out of your comfort zone. Live a little.”

The wink he gave me put my back up even more. Ramrod straight.

“Meget out of my comfort zone? What about you?”

“What about me?” he countered, holding his palms up as if pleading his innocence.

“You’re cruising, Brody. Since your return, people can’t do enough for you.” I put on a comical voice. “Oh, Flock, you’re amazing. Oh, Flock, can I name my firstborn after you? Oh, Flock, please give me your babies. You’re like the prodigal son on steroids.”

He let out a roar of laughter, and the pure joy on his face drew me in closer. “I agree, none of that sounds too uncomfortable, particularly the babies part.”

I mulled over his casual attitude. The way he expected me to go out on a limb with little inconvenience to himself. I mean, I’d halfway talked myself into trying out already, but his cocky grin and the arrogant turn of his jaw made me see crimson. “Okay, buddy, here’s what’s gonna happen. If I’m going to try out for the derby team, you have to do something for me in return.”

He chewed on the edge of his lip, and something flickered in his eyes. “Okay. I’m listening.”

I nodded once. “If I try out for the Spitz Hollow Scalpers, you have to learn to crochet.”

The corners of Brody’s mouth twitched anew, and my toes curled in my Chucks. Damn, those lips of his.

“I’m sure I can learn a few stitches,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “It can’t be that hard.”

Little did he know. “Don’t be so sure. Holding a fine hook is a little different from holding a hockey stick. Can those big, manlyhands cope?” I cocked an eyebrow at his substantial paws. Wait, was I flirting?

“I think I can handle it,” he said, his voice a little tighter than before.