Don’t you ever get thirsty?
That’s what I thought.
So, assuming I could keep my inner oddball in check, and he continued to press all my buttons without trying, and he was interested—which I was eighty-five percent certain that he was—and he didn’t say or do anything to reveal himself as a tepid vanilla pudding of disappointment, chances were really good.
The sexy officer straightened, his eyes dark and hooded as they met mine, that wonderful spark crackling between us. But then, giving his gaze back to Lina, he said, “A toboggan is a hat.”
I laughed, barely avoiding a snort, but I did wrinkle my nose as I spoke without weighing my words, “No. Don’t listen to him, he’s pulling your leg. It’s not a hat.”
The deputy glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze striking me as both hot and sharp, though his tone was conversational. “Yes, it is a hat.”
“No.” I faced him fully, my neck heating. “It’s a sled.”
He gave me the entirety of his attention, his forehead lined even as a small smile spread over his features. “A toboggan is a knit hat, Ms. Ezra.”
I shook my head, now grinning uncontrollably for reasons unknown. “You are wrong, deputy. It’s definitely not a hat.”
He pursed his lips, his right eyebrow rising as he watched me with eyes that still felt sharp and hot, but now also assessing. “All right. How much do you want to bet?”
“Bet? You want to bet me that a toboggan is a hat?” Little did he know, I loved to bet. I loved games—chess in particular—but only ever when winning was a sure thing. Everyone but Lina knew a toboggan was a sled. Maybe he wanted to lose a bet with me?
His eyebrow hitched higher, and a faint shadow of challenge squared his jaw. “Yes, ma’am.”
A wonderful little thrill, a spike of something hot and promising ignited low in my stomach at how he’d said the word ma’am.
Still grinning, I crossed my arms beneath my chest, careful not to spill my water. “Fine. What are the terms?”
His cognac eyes brightened and moved over me as he rubbed the close-cropped beard on his jaw. “How about, if I’m right—if a toboggan is a knit hat—then you let me show you around Green Valley.”
“And if a toboggan isn’t a knit hat?” I lifted my chin, deciding not to mention that my flight tomorrow left first thing in the morning; if he wanted to show me around, it would have to be right now. Regardless, it didn’t matter, because a toboggan was a sled, not a hat.
He shrugged like it didn’t matter, apparently certain he was right, even as his gaze grew in twinkly intensity the longer it held mine. “Name your price.”
“If I’m right, then—” I paused, needing to swallow.
The side of his mouth hitched, such a flirty little curve, and my stomach erupted in butterflies. No lie, I hadn’t felt anything close to this since Bryce Littleton’s soccer ball landed on my lap freshman year of high school. He’d been a senior, experienced, and very, very hot. I’d been . . . none of those things. But the soccer star had winked at me and that simple action had detonated my first lust explosion, just like what I was feeling now.
Bryce Littleton had also turned out to be one hell of a good time. In truth, he’d been the only hell of a good time I’d ever had. No one else had come close.
Decided, I reached up and curled my fingers around the deputy’s tie, slowly tugging it and him toward me as I leaned forward and, hoping my bravado made me sound badass instead of ridiculous, whispered in his ear, “If I’m right, then you—”
Lina thrust her phone at my profile, announcing, “He’s right. A toboggan is a hat.”
I flinched back, turning to face her, but didn’t release his tie. “What?”
“I internet-ed it. It’s a sled and a hat. But the bet was that a toboggan isn’t a hat, so you lose.” She wiggled the phone, a smirk on her purple painted lips. “Guess you’re getting that VIP tour of Mayberry.”
** END SNEAK PEEK**
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Sneak Peek: Homecoming King, Three Kings Book #1
Chapter 1
*Abby*
“To bang, or not to bang? That is the question.”
Frowning at the empty highball glass I’d just set down, I debated how to best respond to my friend’s noteworthy dilemma. “Are we talking about a guy? If so, I recommend making a pro / con list.”
“No. My hair.” She tugged on the tips of her tresses, tossing her bag to the stool at her left but not removing her jacket. “I love your bangs—love love love them.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I set a second highball glass next to the first and shoveled ice into both, checking my watch.
Kaylee was an hour early, not that I minded. She usually shuffled in ten minutes before closing on the nights she had custody of our car, already wearing her pajamas and a silk bonnet on her head. By then Walker, my boss, would be playing Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley over the bar’s speakers. He had this automated to happen every night, four times in a row, even when he wasn’t here. It was his way of driving out the stragglers.
Currently, a herald of the season, Run Run Rudolph by Luke Bryan, reverberated from overhead even though Thanksgiving wasn’t for another week. But it was cold enough outside to see my breath, and little clouds with every exhale always made it feel like the holidays to me.
“I’m tired of this haircut.” Now Kaylee tossed her long hair over her shoulder, sliding into the stool adjacent to the one holding her bag.
I gave Kaylee’s hair a quick once-over. I liked her hair just fine, so I said, “I like your haircut.”
“Thank you. I like it, too.”
Closing my right eye, I peered at her through just the left. “If you like your hair, then why change it? Why change something if you like it?”
“Because I’ve had this haircut since law school.”
“You just graduated.” Giving the liquor my full attention, I poured two ounces of gin in one glass, then the other.
“No I didn’t.” Her tone told me she thought I was a nut. “I graduated three years ago.”
“Has it been that long?” That can’t be right. Three years? Had it already been three years?
“Yes. And just because something is working, doesn’t mean something else might not work better. How will I know what or who the best version of myself is if I never change? If I never try something new?”
“Or—and just hear me out—you could keep a haircut you already like and use this restless energy to try something extra. Enrich yo-self.” I reached for the tonic tap.
“Says the woman who has no concept of the passage of time and lives like a mole.”
“Hey, moles are blind. My vision?” I pointed to my eyes using my index and middle finger. “I have twenty-ten vision, baby.” I topped off the highball glasses with tonic from the spout.
Kaylee tapped her fingernails on the surface of the bar. “When was the last time you were up before two in the afternoon?”
“So, you’re saying I’m nocturnal? Moles aren’t nocturnal. If you’re going to compare me to a nocturnal animal, then use an owl.” I mimicked talons with my fingers. “One of those big, badass owls, who see everything because they can turn their head around in a circle like that nice, misunderstood girl from The Exorcist. I am a third person narrator in a novel. I am—”