The Bad Boy's Forever Girl

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The Bad Boy's Forever Girl Page 7

by Jessie Gussman


  “You know two can play this game,” he said.

  He shifted his eyes to indicate her body on top of his. And then he raised his brows to let her know that he, too, was waiting.

  He didn’t seem to be having any trouble breathing, so she must not be squishing him. But she wasn’t exactly a featherweight, and maybe he was getting tired of her pressing down on him.

  But she could hardly get up. She’d lose her bargaining chip. “When you apologize, I’ll get up.”

  “Did I miss the part where you apologize to me for knocking me down? Then jumping on top of me. I mean maybe that’s some kind of odd courting ritual where you come from, but where I come from, we do things a little bit more decently and in order.”

  “Odd courting ritual?” she asked, her brows raised.

  “Well, you ended up in my arms. I guess, if you keep lying there, I’ll assume you want me to kiss you.”

  Okay, the scrambling part of her brain definitely got the memo on that. But this time, it was the rational side of her brain that kept her from moving. He assumed that she would scramble at his comment. She wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. Not unless she got an apology. Not that she really cared about an apology. It was just the principle of the idea.

  “I suppose you need me to spell it out to you. Some of us were raised to be gracious and civil, and some of us were...not.” She set her brows in such a way that showed that she knew exactly which side of the equation he was on in that regard.

  “I think the only civil thing to do when a woman throws herself at you is to kiss her. You can’t call that not being civil.”

  “No one said anything about kissing.”

  “You’re lying on top of me. You’re looking at me with those come-hither eyes.” He snorted. “And you even have your lips pursed now, although that wasn’t the kind of kiss I was thinking of.”

  Her lips went from being pursed to making an “O” as her jaw hung open. When did this become a discussion about kissing?

  Chapter 7

  This was about the best time he’d had in a really long time. Sad, but true. The look on Libby’s face was adorable. Her face was fire-engine red. He could definitely tease her about that. Except it had become a lot of fun to tease her about kissing.

  Maybe, considering his past, he shouldn’t be talking about kissing. After all, he’d spent several years in prison for that act, or something close to it, and the wrong person might get the wrong idea.

  But Libby had never made any bones about the fact that she believed him. And he’d caught her, just this week, defending him. If he could be himself and joke with someone, it would be with Libby.

  He kind of felt an odd connection with her anyway. Maybe connection wasn’t the right word. But in his mind, he could hardly say attraction. Although that really seemed to be what it was.

  Whatever the feeling was, he sure wasn’t in any hurry to have her move. She attracted his eyes like a dog to a bone, and she was funny and cute.

  But she wasn’t like the other girls that he hung out with. Not even close. There was a sweet innocence about her that clearly said she was a girl that you protected like she was your kid sister, and one didn’t treat her like someone you might pick up at a bar. Not that he’d been picking up girls at bars since his release from prison.

  He didn’t do it that much beforehand either. But those would be the kind of girls that he would look for if he wanted any kind of romantic relationship. Not a girl like Libby.

  So he wasn’t sure what he was doing, teasing her about kissing, lying under her, and being in no hurry to get up.

  “I think you made it into that when you pushed me down to the floor. I think when most people want to have a conversation about things other than kissing, they do it standing upright. What’s a guy to think?”

  Yeah, he definitely liked that outraged expression in her eyes, that stubborn set to her little chin, and the way her nose wrinkled as she tried to think of something or some way to circumnavigate his very faulty logic.

  “I tripped. I didn’t mean to fall into you. And honestly, you looked like you could handle a little thing like me bumping into you. But you came down like the walls of Jericho.”

  “Now she’s a Bible thumper? If you want to get any respect for that, you’re going to need to get up. I haven’t darkened the door of a church since I was a kid at Christmas, but even I know you can’t lecture me on morality when you’re lying on top of me.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and he had to work to keep from snorting. He thought he stumped her, but then she spoke.

  “I think I have no choice but to assume that you hit your head when you fell down and do not have all your wits about you.”

  His brows shot up. Although, at the same time, he realized that his hands were resting on the small of her back. Both of them. And that made him realize that maybe she was right. Maybe he had hit his head in the fall, and he wasn’t quite all there. Because there had definitely been a sparking and tingling going down his forearms and shooting past his elbows from the heat in his palms, and he hadn’t even realized it. Plus, if he was going to have his hands on a woman, Libby definitely wasn’t the kind of woman he would be touching.

  “And why is that?” he asked, surprised that his voice sounded normal or almost normal.

  “Because for you to say that I attacked you is just plain ludicrous.”

  Her expression said, “there, top that.”

  He tried for the most reasonable expression he owned. “Are we or are we not lying on the floor? Is it or is it not because of you attacking me? Therefore, me saying you attacked me is nothing but the plain truth.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He had to work to keep his hands from tightening on her, because he was afraid she was going to get up, and he wasn’t ready for that.

  Because maybe when they got up, the ice would be back between them, and they wouldn’t be laughing and joking with each other. He didn’t want to lose this. This easy, silly bantering. He couldn’t recall ever having just a goofy time with a girl, and he was really enjoying himself.

  To his relief, she didn’t get up but spoke instead. “I’m not sure how you got the subject so completely turned around, but I am waiting, quite patiently, for you to apologize to me.”

  He didn’t have to fake his shock, although his outrage was certainly fabricated. “What? Me? I have to apologize to you? Somehow, you run into me, and I have to apologize? What? What exactly was I supposed to do?”

  “No. Not for me running into you, goofy.”

  He only had a second where she took a breath to say her next words, and he tried hard to think of when the last time was that someone called him goofy. He couldn’t remember.

  “For being mean to me. You’ve been mean to me, and you were just about to admit it and apologize for it. And I’m staying here until you do.”

  He had to laugh. Honestly, he did, because in the last ten minutes, she’d gone from looking decidedly uncomfortable and embarrassed for running into him, knocking him down, and landing on top of him to looking completely comfortable and even a little sassy.

  He kinda liked it.

  So, since he’d fallen on the floor, he’d done more thinking than normal, like when was the last time someone had called him goofy? When was the last time he’d been in church? And now, he was currently wracking his brain, trying to think of the last conversation he’d enjoyed more. If he apologized, it would be over.

  “I’m not apologizing.”

  He thought her anger was only partially pretend. “Then I’m not moving.”

  He hadn’t felt like smiling this much in a really long time. He knew there had to be a wicked gleam in his eye when he said, “Okay. But I’m gonna have a lot of fun telling my brothers why this room wasn’t cleaned up and organized. I couldn’t get the new hired help off me so I could get up and do it.” And yeah, he couldn’t keep his lips from turning up, and his teeth might’ve even been showing
when he was done talking.

  He thought maybe that would induce her to scramble off, not that he really wanted her to. But instead, she got an almost mulish look on her face. Then her chin jutted out.

  “I’m pretty sure your brothers will understand when I tell them exactly what the circumstances are.”

  “You’re on top of me, won’t let me up. That’s the circumstances. I don’t think they’ll have a hard time understanding that.”

  Her haughty look did not dissipate. But she turned her head and lifted a brow. “I’m sorry, but they’re never gonna believe you if you try to tell them that I had you pinned all night.”

  “No way. I didn’t say anything about you having me pinned. I’m just going to explain that you were ravishing me and what was I to do but lie here and enjoy it.”

  And that accomplished what he had been hoping to avoid. She scrambled up while he laughed.

  Actually, she didn’t scramble. Whatever issue she had with her leg made it hard for her to get up, and he felt a little bad that he hadn’t thought of that and figured out a way to help her. It probably made him a jerk. And he didn’t like that.

  Most people thought he was a jerk anyway, but for some reason, this little conversation with Libby had made him want to live past his bad reputation. It had been a while since he’d had that desire. Since before he spent three undeserved years in the pen.

  Libby was sweet, and she was right; she hadn’t deserved the way he’d treated her. It was just hard, after what her family had done. But he really shouldn’t have been taking it out on Libby.

  He didn’t like the slightly off sensation that gave his chest. So he shook it off and sat up.

  He’d gotten to his feet, and she was still struggling. His heart hurt a little for her, because he would hate it. Hate that his body wouldn’t do what he wanted to. So he stuck his hand out, in front of her downturned face, so she was sure to see it and could reach for his hand.

  He thought he was doing something nice. So it surprised him when she looked up with narrowed eyes that flashed. “I’m not helpless. I can get myself up. It just takes me a little longer.”

  He blinked. Not just because he was surprised at how she’d taken his offer of help, but because he’d never seen her upset. She just didn’t seem like the kind of girl that got angry. Or snippy. She’d always been super sweet.

  She had a sensitive spot. Part of him, the part of him that spent three years in prison, tucked that information away for later. If he needed to hold something over her head or hit her in a vulnerable spot, her handicap was the area. Or maybe not exactly her handicap, but it was pretty obvious she didn’t like help.

  However, since he’d been talking to her, that part of him had shrunk, at least where she was concerned. And he truly felt bad.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice soothing. “Did it ever occur to you that I was offering to help you, not because I didn’t think you could do it, but because I wanted to?”

  She froze, her good leg solid on the floor, both hands balancing her on either side of it. Her head had been down, but it raised slowly. Her eyes still contained anger, or maybe that was suspicion. She was right to be suspicious. He certainly hadn’t been showing his good side to people lately.

  “No,” she said. “It didn’t.”

  “Maybe you’re making some assumptions about me, same way you got so angry about thinking I’ve made assumptions about you.”

  He wiggled his hand which was still in front of her face. “Take it. You never know, maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to hold your hand.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. She continued to ignore his hand, putting her head back down and seeming to gather herself in preparation for pushing up. “Please don’t insult me by flirting or pretending to flirt. That’s not the kind of girl I am, and I think you know that.”

  He pulled his hand away like she’d slapped it. He thought she might be saying that she wasn’t his type and he was getting kind of uppity to think that she was.

  But he rolled her words around in his head while she stood slowly. If girls had a type, and he really kind of thought they did, not that he thought as much about girls as he had about trucks and motors and welding over the years. But if they had a type, he supposed Libby would be in that category of girls that men didn’t flirt with. She was probably the kind of girl that a man would send his wife to for counseling.

  Funny though, until she’d said something, he hadn’t thought about her that way. There was definitely the attraction, connection, because he didn’t want to think of being attracted to Libby. The connection he seemed to feel with her, the way his eyes followed her, the way, just now, he wanted to be closer.

  He teased her about ravishing him, and he’d really meant it as teasing. But he had a feeling, no, he knew, if she’d lowered her head just a little bit and kissed him, he wouldn’t have had to talk himself into kissing her back.

  It took about five seconds before Blade decided his first impression was wrong. That was the way she saw herself. It wasn’t some warning for him.

  He hadn’t thought about discussing it with her, but the words came to his lips anyway. “I don’t know anything of the kind. I was actually getting into the idea of you ravishing me.”

  She was on her feet and brushing her skirt off. Her hand slowed, then paused, and her face looked up to his. Searching as though she was questioning whether he was being honest with her or not.

  At least the anger was gone from her expression. He hadn’t liked that or the suspicion.

  Now humor leaked into them, and her lips quirked. “I don’t think I believe that. Regardless, if anyone is going to do any ravishing, they’d better do it some other time. Right now, this room is supposed to be ready for inspection tomorrow morning. And we should get to work.”

  “I think you just gave me a rain check. Don’t you think I’m not going to cash in on it.” He supposed he had some kind of wicked expression on his face, and her eyes widened slightly, but then she laughed and waved her hand in the air.

  “Whatever.”

  Her laugh was sweet and soft, and it wrapped like cotton candy around his heart. Easing the hard beat, and making his insides feel tender and sweet in a good way. Normally, he didn’t like feeling vulnerable, but he felt safe with Libby.

  She put her hands on her hips and looked around the room. Playtime was over, apparently. And he needed to pick up the slack.

  “So, since you were unsuccessful in knocking me out or scaring me away, I guess we’ll work together to get this done.” He couldn’t resist teasing her. It wasn’t every day that she ran into a man, he was sure. And he kind of liked that.

  “You have your version of the story, I have mine. Now, are you gonna tell me how to organize the stuff, or should we work like two-year-olds, side by side but not interacting?”

  “My dad and my stepmom had that kind of relationship. Where they kind of existed beside each other but didn’t really interact. Works for a while. We could probably get the room cleaned up using that type of relationship.”

  He said it flippantly, but she still pulled her lip in between her teeth and looked at him with pity. He didn’t like that. Pity was an emotion he never coveted.

  When she spoke, there was no pity in her voice. “That doesn’t seem like a very nice way to live. I think we’d have more fun, and I think things would be more efficient, if one of us was in charge and one of us wasn’t.”

  “So we can’t co-clean?” She definitely brought out a softer side. He hadn’t felt relaxed and easy like this in ages. Maybe it was because she didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives with him.

  “We could try, I suppose. But since you know more than I do about this, why don’t you be in charge and just tell me what to do?” She tilted her head and looked at him, her brows lifted in entreaty.

  “I’m the youngest. Everyone always bosses me around. I’m not sure I’m any good at being in charge.”

  She laughed outright at that. “
Okay. I’m fine if you’re not very good at it. You can practice on me. Now, tell me what to do.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “I’m pretty sure you just told me what to do.” He imitated her stance with his hands on his hips.

  She didn’t bother to hide her smile. “I took charge so that I could take the liberty of putting you in charge. Now you’re in charge. Tell me what to do.”

  He shook his head in mock exasperation. “Just like a woman to make everything a lot more complicated than what it has to be. So you weren’t in charge then you are in charge but you’re not in charge and I’m in charge though I wasn’t in charge?”

  He didn’t even try to make sense, and about halfway through his sentence, she stopped trying to figure him out. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. They’d already had this competition. And he was pretty sure he had won since he never apologized, even though she wanted him to.

  He supposed, since he’d won the first round, he could give her this one.

  Although, thinking about their interactions as a competition didn’t quite sit right. Did he want it to be a competition? She wasn’t acting like it was something she needed to do.

  In his experience, that’s kind of how women were: everything was a competition.

  He was competitive. He admitted it. But he didn’t necessarily like being competitive with everything, and it was nice to have someone to support him.

  It was a thought to tuck away for later.

  He started explaining how they organized their parts and what he was trying to do with the deliveries on the floor.

  It wasn’t rocket science, and she caught on quickly. He didn’t allow her to pick up anything too heavy, and he took care of putting everything on the higher shelves.

  He had thought it would take three or four hours to get everything looking good. But even though she got a bucket of water and spent time cleaning stuff, they were done in two.

  She wrung the rag out, and he picked up the bucket of water.

 

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