My mother catches my gaze from across the room, giving me one of those patentedlooks. You know, the ones that promise murder and a lifetime of regret if you aren't on your best behavior? Funny how my brothers never get those looks, when they're usually the ones all over the news for one reason or another.
I'm an angel.
I step up beside Sidney, waiting for him to notice me.
He doesn't.
He's staring into his beer like it holds the answers to the universe. I step closer, intending to clear my throat.
Instead, I catch a whiff of whatever magical cologne he's wearing. Jesus. He smells edible. He's also a lot bigger than I ever seem to remember, which is probably because I make a point to not be where he is. The man scares me. I mean, I don'tthinkhe'd actually break me in half or anything if I tried to strike up a conversation, but why risk it?
It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I find him wildly attractive. So what if he stars in more than a few of my fantasies? That doesn't mean Ilikehim. I just like looking at him. There's a difference.
If I keep telling myself that, one day, it'll be true, right?
Right.
"You look extra cranky tonight," I say. At least, that's what I intend to say. I think I actually say, "Hey, Cranky Bear."
He slowly turns in my direction, his gaze running down my body. For a moment, I forget to breathe. Every inch of him is hard and disgruntled, but there's this softness in his green eyes that always catches me off guard. It makes him way more beautiful than I'm ever prepared to deal with.
"Hattie," he rumbles, his lips pursed behind his beard. "Did you just call me a cranky bear?"
"What? No. I said you look extra cranky tonight," I lie. "But the music is loud. You probably misheard."
"I'm sure that's it." His gaze runs down my body again, lingering on my boobs for a moment before he pointedly turns his head, staring across the room. I think he's looking at a supermodel, and a little part of me wants to sink through the floor.
I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea—or anyone's, really. Most women grow into their curves. My body missed that memo. I'm just short and round everywhere. It doesn't usually bother me, but not gonna lie, sometimes, being the last girl on the planet that men want to date sucks.
It's not even like Sidney is my type or anything. Icannotdeal with a hot, cranky giant. But still. What girl doesn't want to be irresistible to a hunk of a man with muscles for days at least once in her life?
I take another big gulp of whatever the hell is in my cup. "I heard you drew the short straw."
"What?"
"The short straw. You're the best man."
"Oh." Sidney pushes a hand through his dark hair, his long fingers ruffling strands, and looks at me like he's still trying to figure out how the hell he got roped into that. "Yeah, that's me."
"Cool. I need you to save my life," I blurt.
"Uh…" His gaze runs across me again. "You look good to me, butterfly."
Butterfly.Oh, I like that.
"I'm really not," I whisper.
For some reason, that seems to worry him. He gets serious fast, standing up straight, his eyes glued to me. "What's wrong? What do you need?"
This is it. This is the moment.
"Date me."
His brows pull together, his expression going from concerned to confused and then back. "Either you have a head injury, or I'm hearing shit. I thought you said—"
"I did. I need you to date me."
"What the fuck?" He narrows his eyes, glancing around. For some reason, he looks pissed. "Did Tye put you up to this? Tell him to fuck off with his jokes."
