Page 50 of Return of the Bad Girl (Rock Canyon, Idaho 4)

“Where the hell are you going, dressed like that?”

Well, if her pissed-off look meant anything, that had been the wrong thing to say. “I have a part in a Bond movie.”

“It’s forty degrees outside,” he said, trying to gentle his tone and be the voice of reason.

“So?” she said, eyeballing him like he’d lost his damn mind. “I’ve got a jacket.”

“Your tits are going to pop out of that dress if you bend over.”

“Gabe,” she said as she pulled her jacket off the back of the couch, “when you can manage to put your dishes in the dishwasher without leaving food on them, I might take your advice. No, wait, why would I ever take your advice on fashion? You’re idea of style is a T-shirt and jeans.”

He ignored her passive-aggressive criticism. Damn, he liked the way she said his name. He’d like it even better in another, more sultry tone, but he’d take what he could get.

Wait . . . When had he started wanting anything from Caroline?

She was heading right for him, probably so she could escape out the front door, but he was having none of that. Stepping into her path, Gabe asked again, “Well, you have to admit, your girls are popping up and saying howdy in the friendliest way I’ve seen yet.”

“Well, they aren’t saying howdy to you,” she said, moving to his right.

Grinning, he side-stepped with her. “Then who are they saying howdy to?”

Caroline let out an exasperated breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

“I didn’t know I had to try. I thought you just woke up, and the annoyance was there.”

“Oh, no, some mornings I wake up thinking, I must’ve imagined it. He can’t be that bad. And then I see you, and it all comes flooding back like a drunken night of idiocy.” When she tapped his chest with a long, glittery purple nail, he resisted the urge to grab it and nibble the tip. “Only it’s not my idiocy I’m remembering.”

When she tried to out maneuver him again, he caught her around the waist and said, “Speaking of idiots, who’s your hot date?”

“How do you know I’m going on a date?”

“ ’Cause a woman doesn’t dress like that unless she’s trolling for a man or going out with one,” Gabe said.

“You don’t know him,” she said, struggling against him.

“What kind of man asks a woman like you out and doesn’t even bother to come to the door?”

“He’s coming to the door. I just didn’t want the first thing he sees to be you,” she snapped.

“Why? I’ll be nice to him,” Gabe said.

“Would you let go? He’s going to be here any minute, and you’re wrinkling my dress!”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Caroline pushed him away. Gabe leaned back against the couch and waited as she opened the door.

“Hey, Mike,” she said to the guy on the porch.

“Wow, you look amazing,” the unknown guy said.

Gabe’s good humor fled. Heat curled in his stomach, easing out into his limbs until he wanted to punch someone, most of all the faceless guy in his doorway.

That churning in your gut feels a lot like jealousy.

Stepping up alongside Caroline, Gabe leaned his arm on the doorfr

ame and gave the man on the porch his best “don’t fuck with me” glare. “Hey, Mike. I’m Gabe.”

The guy was average height with brown eyes and short dark hair, and instead of being intimidated, he stuck his hand out with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”