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“Youlookedlikeyou needed savin’,” I blurted, the blush burning hotter than the rooftop lights.
His brows winged up, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You’re drunk.”
“There’s a slight probability I have achieved the perfect buzz,” I admitted solemnly, “but I promise I’m nowhere near sloshed.”
“Have you eaten anything?” he asked, steering me gently into a bar stool at his table.
“Mmmm—tiny portions,weirdfood, looked like fish eggs.”
Chuckling, Ollie shook his head. “So,no.”
“Very astute.”
“Jesus, Trouble.”
His eyes flicked over my shoulder like he was checking for witnesses. Itriednot to be insulted by that.
Hell, part of me hoped the hags at the bar got a good look. Over my dead body was he going home with the condom-stabber.
“You wanna get outta here?” I said brightly. “Those bitches were obj-objec-tifyingyou like their next meal.”
Ahh, shit. My words were starting to slur.
Nice way to leave an impression, Leighton.
But when his smile fell over me, it was better than the last kiss of summer sun.
He nodded, standing and motioning for me to lead the way.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I said, weaving slightly.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered good-naturedly.
“I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss Oliver Hart.”
4
Tacos, Temptation, and Terrible Life Choices
OLIVER
“Ahhhh, that’s better,” Leighton sighed contentedly, flopping onto the couch beside me in her oversizedBombershoodie and a pair of cheeky shorts I was adamantly tryingnotto look at.
I’d known when she asked me to come inside for a movie that it was a terrible idea. But she flashed that magazine-worthy smile that brought those damn dimples to life—and I caved like a dollar store lawn chair under a linebacker.
Had anyone ever been strong enough to tell this girl no?
Stupid.
This was so stupid.
All that tan skin on display, and now her eight-seat sectional felt way too small without her siblings or my feral children running interference.
The instant we got inside, Leighton scrubbed off her makeup and traded her red wig for a pile of chaos on top of her head.
What does it say about me that her sloppy messy bun is somehow even more appealing?
A dark, wavy strand fell loose across her forehead.