“It’s more what I did.” She swallowed, flushing with shame, as she recounted the story in as few words as possible. When she reached the end, his blue eyes had taken on a steely gray glint.
“What do you need me to do to that asshole?” he asked. “Teach him a lesson?”
She’d like nothing more than for Rhett to crack open a can of whoop-ass on Al Hogg. Rhett didn’t walk around in a ’roid rage, but he carried a latent strength in his big frame, a subtledon’t tread on mesignal that promised pain if he was messed with.
He was big. Masculine. Eager to help. If she needed a white knight, he’d be the guy for the job. But that wasn’t in his assigned job duties. Flings don’t get called on to fight for honor. “This is my mess, I’ll deal. I don’t need your protection.”
“But I like you.” He caressed her face, tracing a finger from her temple to chin. “And that liking extends to your messes, too. And jerks who hurt you.”
The flash of his grin stopped her heart.
This was getting dangerous. She couldn’t let him fight her battles, the next thing you know she’d start needing him, worse, relying on him. Better to nip it in the bud.
“Last night, shmast night.” She waved a careless hand and hopped up on the counter.Yes, good, easy breezy.She didn’t need him. She was the one other people needed.
“Hey.” He stepped forward and tilted up her chin. “What’s spinning around that pretty head of yours?”
“Flings are fun.” She dropped her head, a curtain of hair blocking his face. Better because staring meant seeing, and who knew what he might find if he looked hard enough. “But you don’t have to come over to talk about my day.”
“Listen.” He pulled out a chair, flipping it around to sit backward. “I did have fun last night with you. The sex, well, it was good—amazing, actually.”
“Yeah, but?” Because that part was coming. Thebutrose over his head like an invisible cartoon dialogue bubble.
“But…” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t know. I keep thinking about how I’ve been this self-protected island. And you? You’re a tsunami.”
“So what, you need to head for higher ground?” Her pulse leapt with panic even as she strove for levity.
“Dammit.” He made a frustrated noise. “How about you quit joking, be serious? I’m not going to bullshit. I like you,” he said frankly. When she did nothing but gape, he continued. “Jesus, you’re cute, funny, sexy as hell. I want to do more than have sex. Hang out. Talk. Watch movies. Keep it casual, but connect.” He reached in his bag and removed a familiar board game. “I hear you’re quite the Scrabble player.”
“I know my way around a board,” she said dubiously, fighting for equilibrium. Too many compliments in rapid succession, she couldn’t process them all. Why’d he do that? Because she seemed needy?
“You look like a deer in headlights,” he said rapidly. “I’m not trying to push you, or complicate anything. We can keep it as straight sex.” He scuffed at the floor. “But I like you. We’re friends, right?”
“And you want to upgrade to friends with benefits?” She raised a brow. “Have you never watched a romantic comedy?”
He blinked. “No? Should I have?”
“Nora Ephron is the shit, but as for fling plots, they all go more or less the same way.” She braced her hands on the kitchen table. “It starts casual, but by the middle everyone in the audience is throwing Junior Mints at the screen and shouting, ‘Good God, people, kiss already.’”
“You have big feelings on the subject.” He smirked, not missing a beat. “But if you’re the expert on the subject of fling pitfalls, then you should have the answers for how we could avoid them.”
He had a point. She swung her legs, thinking a moment. “First, no sleepovers, like we agreed last night. Second, no friending each other on Facebook.”
“Easy.” He gave a curt nod. “I don’t do Facebook.”
“I see.” Not that she knew that from trying to social media stalk him. No. Not at all. She shifted her weight on the counter. “Exchanging bodily fluids is okay, but no deep feelings.”
He shrugged. “Don’t have those, either.”
The way he stared in her eyes while entering her last night made that claim doubtful. But all kidding aside, she did have a final point that needed to be put on the table. “And last but not least, save the compliments.”
His eyes widened. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t need a fuss.”
“What is the fuss, people being kind to you?”
She shrugged. “There’s probably twenty different deep-seated neuroses to unpack here, but that would mean talking about feelings, and that means referring to rule number three.” They’d teetered on the edge of something big, and she yanked them back to safety.
