Page 40 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

“It’s fine,” I say.

“She’s been hanging out with us,” Dani says. “Pizza, manicures, boy talk. You know, girl stuff.”

“Boy talk, huh? You’re too young to date,” Rhoads says to Dani.

Dani deadpans. “Not too young to look.”

The three younger girls all burst out laughing,

Rhoads notices the pizza. “Ohhhh, I see. Harassing delivery guys again?” He flicks his gaze to me. “I’m surprised at you, Baker. Conspiring with these hooligans.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a maverick.”

“Chloe dated Graham, the pizza guy,” Hannah screeches. “She’s my hero.”

Rhoads’s jaw ticks, but before he can say anything, Maya interjects. “We were just about to paint our nails. Do you want a manicure, Chloe?”

“Next time,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. “We’ve got a big test coming up.”

“Let’s use the den.” Rhoads waves me down the hall. “Hopefully the decibel level will be lower in there. And is that bacon I smell? Bring it with.”

I breathe a silent sigh of relief. The den, I can handle. At least I won’t be thinking about Rhoads in his pajamas.

On our way into the cozy room, a glistening orb on a shelf catches my eye. Three small bikes lean against the inside of the rounded glass. A snow globe. So unlike the ones I’ve seen in stores. But I don’t have time to check it out because Rhoads is already setting up.

We each settle into a cushioned chair at the executive-sized desk in the corner of the room and flip open our textbooks to a practice test. “Maybe we can each do the test and once we score them, we’ll see what we need to study more?” I suggest.

“Sounds good.” Rhoads scoots his chair in. “But I’m not going to be able to resist the call of bacon for long.”

I turn my attention to my book, but I can’t focus. My senses keep zeroing in on the scent of his shampoo, like orange slices at halftime. The even tempo of his concentrated breathing and the way his chest rises and falls in time with my own. I am hyperaware of how close his arm is to mine, his right barely an inch from my left as his left hand scribbles on a lined sheet of paper.

“Hey, no cheating,” Rhoads says, bumping me with his shoulder.

I flush. “I wasn’t cheating. I was just admiring your handwriting. It’s…tidy.” I rearrange my face into a teasing smile.

“Well, eyes on your own paper, Baker. Cheaters never prosper.” He points to my notebook where I’ve answered only the first two questions. Oops.

I stick out my tongue at him. He does the same, and I force myself to focus anywhere but his mouth. Pressing my lips together, I half-turn and make a big show of covering my paper with my arm.

Rhoads grabs an empty manila folder from a drawer and sets it up between us. “Like in elementary school,” he says.

I roll my eyes and turn back to my textbook. I get through a few questions before the back of my neck prickles, heat rising up my spine. It feels like being watched. I turn my head just enough to see the folder. And peeking above it, Rhoads’s rich brown eyes, his dark hair sweeping across his forehead. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Trying to cheat.” He laughs. “I have no idea what the answer to number four is.”

I flick the folder so it falls toward him, covering his notebook. “Looks like your plan backfired, Simpson.”

He pauses, regarding me. “Jury is still out on that.”

We manage to get through the chapter without too many distractions, taking turns summarizing the main concepts and defining the jargon.

“I believe it’s time for a bacon break,” I say. “And then soccer.”

“Finally! I thought you were going to make me study all day. So, tell me about this bacon.”

I open the box with a flourish. “I present the bacon sampler from The Local Waffle. Greg and Lou have been running it together since before they were married. There’s traditional crispy, peppercorn-crusted, maple, chipotle maple, and brown sugar cinnamon.”

Rhoads’s eyes widen. He grabs a piece of chipotle maple and rips it in half, offering me a piece. “To teamwork,” he says. We cheers, then each take a bite.