“It’s because you’ve got everyone else wrapped around your finger.”
“That’s because I’m very charming.” He grinned when I only rolled my eyes in response. “But I also don’t see you doing that with anyone else.”
“What? Not pulling my punches?”
“Yep. It’d be a cold day in hell before you told someone to fuck off, but you’ve probably flipped me off five times this week alone.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d been conditioned to people please…to make myself as small as possible so as not to be too much of a burden. But for some reason, I had no issue doing the opposite with him.
I shifted in my seat, wondering where the hell my wine was, because…yeah. That was exactly how I was, and I sort of hated that Ford had been able to read that about me.
A slow smile spread across his face, and seriously, how was it fair that this man was so freaking hot? Like, drool on yourself, walk into a pole, trip over air because you can’t stop staring hot.
“Don’t worry, kitten,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything, because I already know I’m right. Which tells me that you might not like me very much, but you’re comfortable around me, at the very least.”
Shaking my head, I huffed out a breath and glanced down. Uh…no. The last thing I felt tonight was comfort. Heat, arousal, irritation…yes. All of that, in spades. But comfort? Not even a little.
“So…” he said, drawing out the word. “About this no sex for three years thing…”
I snapped my gaze to his. He was leaning back in his chair, casual as you please, as if he hadn’t just brought up sex at dinner. I glanced around the restaurant, worried someone had overheard him. But whether intentionally or not, the hostess had put us at a table away from prying ears, thankfully. Because God knew what shit was going to come out of Ford’s mouth before the end of the night.
“Oh my God,” I hissed at him. “Why are you still caught up on it? It’s not that difficult.”
He snorted. “Speak for yourself. I think my dick would literally fall off.”
I rolled my eyes as I reached for my glass of ice water, forcing myself not to imagine his dick. I’d seen hundreds—maybe thousands. His wouldn’t be anything special, apadravya piercing or not. “As a medical professional, I can assure you it would not. Next topic, please.”
“Fine, but remember you asked for this.” Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on the table, pausing only long enough for our waitress to drop off my glass of wine and leave. “Have you ever considered recreating yourMagic Mikelap dance? Because I volunteer as tribute.” He tipped his head to the side as he studied me. “Or do you only pull it out in bachelorette situations? If so, I can probably get one of my brothers to pop the question by next week. Fuck knows Beck’s foaming at the mouth for it.”
“I’m not giving you a lap dance.”
“Maybe not in real life, but don’t doubt for a second I won’t be imagining it tonight.” He tapped on his temple, his mouth tilted up in a smirk.
I refused to let his words get to me. This was what Ford did. It wasn’tme, specifically. His flirt game was on point 24/7, regardless of who was on the receiving end of it, and I needed to remember that.
Desperate to get the subject off sex, I asked, “How about you? You seriously build homes for Habitat for Humanity?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Uh…yeah. Kind of. You don’t exactly give off the selfless vibe.”
He lifted a single shoulder. “If people don’t care to look hard enough to see past the surface, I don’t care what they think.”
I couldn’t help but envy him that. I’d crafted my entire life around what other people thought of me, and it had become suffocating.
“So, what? You just like to make people think you’re a lazy jackass who gets everything handed to him?”
“Are we talking about people or you, specifically?”
“Both.”
“Before tonight, would you have actually thought something different even if I’d told you otherwise?”
I had enough self-awareness to admit the answer was probably no… Okay, there was no probably about it. For a very long time, I’d had Ford neatly placed inside a specific box in my mind, and it was jarring to suddenly realize maybe he didn’t belong there.
That maybe, for years, I’d been wrong about this annoying jackass.
Instead of admitting that to him, I asked, “When did you get started with them?”
