“Well, at least there’s that.” I spread my hands wide and roll my eyes. When he simply gives me a deadpan look, I forge on. “Why on earth would you ask me of all people?”
His brow quirks. “Why not? What’s wrong with you?”
The man can’t be this obtuse. Honestly, I know he’s smart. Damn it. “Aside from the fact that no one would believe it?”
“You’re kidding, right?” He says this with a hint of laughter in his voice.
“No, that would be you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Must not tackle the quarterback.
“Don’t make me spell it out for you, August.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to because I’m not getting it.”
With a sigh, I close my eyes. “I’m not a model, or an actress. Nor, do I look like one.”
“Penelope.” His voice comes out of the darkness, soft and easy. “I’ve said it before. You’re beautiful.”
One eye opens despite my best effort to remain aloof. “I don’t believe you said ‘beautiful.’”
As though he knows it will be too much for me if he makes any sort of eye contact, his focus remains firmly on the road before us. “So I’ll say it now. You’re beautiful. Besides, I need someone real. Or, should I say, someone who doesn’t have her own public drama.”
“I’ll give you that bit.” I’m allergic to drama. If there’s a hint of it, I run for the hills.
“And I need someone who . . . ah . . . at the risk of sounding vain—”
“Which means you’re going to sound incredibly vain.”
“Cute. But that risk aside, I need someone who won’t fall in love with me or expect forever.”
Silence ticks out.
“Hence, me.”
His big shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “We both know you have never liked me that way. Hell, March and I are similar in looks and you had a huge crush on him but regarded me as... a worm.”
“I never—”
“Oh, come on.” At this, he glances my way. “You never liked me.”
I sigh dramatically, if only to distract from any chance that I might be blushing. “I said I like you fine.”
“Yeah, that faint praise is burned on my brain.”
“If you’re fishing for compliments, I suggest you go to the Pier.”
“I really had no idea you were so saucy.” He doesn’t appear to find this a fault.
“Neither did I. Maybe this is a nightmare, and I’ll wake up, plain old quiet Pen.”
“I can pinch you, if you’d like.” He waggles his fingers.
“Not if you want to live.”
“Just a suggestion . . . Where were we?”
