“I— I don’t— There’s no guy.”
He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat. “I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’m not blind. But suit yourself. Keep those cards as close to the vest as you like, but their faces are all showing.”
His eyes light in amusement as I narrow my gaze at him. “Be good, Pops. Don’t forget who’s been cooking you three square meals a day.”
“How could I forget? I’m pretty sure you served me weeds with a side of dirt for supper last night.”
I growl, spinning on my heel and stomping out the door.
A few minutes later, I pull into Tripp’s driveway and slam my car door. My back aches from pulling weeds in Grams’ garden, and all I want to do is curl up under a cozy blanket and sleep. But I told him I’d come, and I can’t find it in me to let him down again. Not when he’s been more vulnerable with me than I’ve ever seen him with anyone else.
I knock, crossing my arms tight over my chest.
“Coming!” His muffled voice filters through the door, followed by the thump of quick footsteps.
It flies open, and there’s Tripp—hair damp from a shower, sports shorts hanging low, tattoos sprawled across his bare chest. My eyes catch on the familiar lean lines of his stomach and the trail of hair that disappears into his waistband, and a thread of desire weaves through the knot already twisting in my gut.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to spend the night with him and not fall even more in love with him than I already am. I should have known better. It could never be just a fling with Tripp.
“Are you gonna stand there gawking or are you gonna come in?” he asks, a crooked grin making his dimples pop.
He is altogether way too comfortable with me. The way he teases me isn’t new, but how my heart reacts to it is, taking off at a gallop with every flash of dimple or flirty joke.
“I wasn’t gawking,” I mumble, slipping past him. The warm, buttery scent of popcorn greets me.
I slip off my shoes and wander into the living room, where he has a blanket, a bowl of popcorn andTommy Boyqueued up ready to play.
He stretches out on the couch, and I shoot him a daggered stare. “Aren’t you gonna put a shirt on?”
“Why? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
It’s true, but that’s part of the problem.
I roll my eyes but plop down next to him anyway, tucking my feet up under me. He spreads the blanket over us both and wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving me no choice but to lean in.
“So,Tommy Boy, huh?”
He chuckles. “After our little run-in with Bambi when you first got here, I’ve been wanting to watch it again.”
“Do you remember that summer you and Wes were obsessed with it?” I ask, smiling at the memory. “You guys wore out the VHS, and your parents had to throw it in the trash.”
"I’m pretty sure it broke because we rewound it to the part where the chick jumps into the pool naked too many times.”
I laugh. “You perv.”
He gives me a knowing look, eyes dancing with humor. “No doubt.”
My stomach cramps and I gnaw on my lip as he starts the movie, the sound echoing through the surround system. If I want to enjoy any part of tonight, I need to clear the air.
“Hey, about the other night,” I say, shifting to ease the ache, “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt and cold-hearted about telling Wes. I know you hate lying to him.“
His body tenses under mine. “You were just being honest.”
I glance up at him, his eyes fastened to the television screen. “But it hurt your feelings,” I press.
He finally peers down at me. “My feelings are fine, Quinnie. I just—“ he exhales, gaze sliding away again, “I didn’t want Wes to be mad. And maybe I got a little caught up in the moment, but…” His mouth curls into a grim smile. “I‘ve got my head on straight now.”
My brows draw together. “What does that mean?”
