Page 28

So, he’s just standing there not saying anything.
Weirdo.
I glance to my right, trying not to laugh.
Seriously. Why is he not saying anything?
Clearing my throat, I shuffle a touch closer to him. It’s cold out here, and my body is instinctively drawn to his heat. He flinches when I get too close, his leather jacket wrinkling as he crosses his arms, then uncrosses them and goes back to his cool, hands-in-pockets stance, which should seriously not be that sexy. But somehow he makes it so.
He’s got this James Dean inRebel Without a Causevibe. Gramma would love him. That’s one of her favorite old flicks. I call it ancient because hassling her about her age is one of my favorite pastimes. Apparently, I started doing it when I was only three or something, and she laughed so hard. So, I kept going, and it’s evolved into something wonderful. Another thing to bond us.
I miss her.
If she were here, she’d probably be nudging Carson’s arm and snapping, “You gonna say anything, fool? Or you just gonna stand there lookin’ pretty?”
Her voice in my head has me stifling a giggle.
Carson’s eyes dart toward me, and he gives me a frown before looking down the road like he’s desperate for my Uber to get here.
Oh yeah? Well, I’m kinda not.
So start talking and stop wasting this time!
Clearing my throat again, I give him a closed-mouth smile, and he finally huffs and mutters, “You okay?”
“Ye-ah.” I’m confused by his question at first, then realize he’s probably assuming I’m traumatized by what happened in the bar. This makes me laugh, and I flick my hand through the air. “Oh, that. Yeah. I’m totally fine. I was seconds away from snatching that pool cue and shoving it up his nose.”
His lips twitch, and I turn to face him properly.
“I appreciate your help, though. The guy was like a redwood, and I wasn’t strong enough to budge him. Super frustrating, but not scary.”
“He grabbed your ass,” Carson growls.
“Yeah, that wasn’t cool.” I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear, then bulging my eyes at him. “You didn’t punch him or anything, did you?”
“No.” He frowns, then grumbles, “Wily wouldn’t let me.”
I laugh. “He wouldn’t let you?”
“Well, he would have gotten shitty if I did.”
“I can’t imagine that.” I tip my head. “Wily Wilson being angry just doesn’t compute.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve seen him play.”
“True.” I nod. “The guy’s a warrior. I guess I just imagine him blocking and tackling with a laugh and a grin. Like some happy brute of a pirate, defeating the enemies with whoops and cheers, you know?”
He looks at me like I’m just a little bit weird, then gives me a nod before checking the road again.
“Do you like pirate movies?”
He shrugs.
“You totally do,” I murmur.
He whips back around to frown down at me. “I never said that.”
A smile tugs at my lips at the zing of pleasure that whips through me. Oooo, this boy is fun to tease.