One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(87)

Hearing the dreaded pet name, I cross my arms over my chest. “I take it back. You aren’t sweet at all.”

“Too late. You already admitted you think I’m sweet.” His mouth hits my cheek. “I wonder what else I could get you to admit.”

I feel a blush working its way up my neck. “We’re going to miss the fight.”

“You sure you’re up for it?” His voice is soft. “I don’t want you drunk in a crowd. These things get rowdy under normal circumstances — on New Year’s Eve it’s going to be a madhouse in there. I don’t want you getting swallowed up.”

“I’m not five.”

“Zoe, darling, I don’t care if you’re five, twenty-five, or a hundred and five,” he rumbles. “You’re my girl. I’m always going to worry about you. Always.”

“You’re being sweet again,” I say, feeling my eyes prickle suspiciously. “Stop it.”

He laughs. “Okay, I’ll say something terrible.”

“Good. Do that.”

His stubble scrapes my ear. “You look beautiful.” He plays with a blonde tendril that’s escaped my clip. “I like your hair like this.”

I whip my head around to glare at him. “That’s the opposite of terrible.”

“Fine.” He thinks about it long and hard. “Nope. Can’t come up with a damn thing.”

I sigh. “I see I’m going to have to lead by example.”

“Ah, yes, because you’ve never insulted me before. This will be a fresh experience for me. Uncharted waters.”

I giggle. “Shh. I’m thinking of insults.”

“Very serious business.” He forces his face into a somber mask. “I’m ready. Hit me with your worst.”

“Okay…” I narrow my eyes. “You snore.”

“Ah!” He throws a hand over his heart, as though gravely injured. “I’ll never recover from that one!”

“And!” I point a finger at him, in case he thought he was getting off easy. “You have bad breath in the morning.”

“No! Not bad breath!” He gasps. “You mean to tell me I have bad breath before brushing my teeth? That is just shocking information. Truly revolutionary.”

I stifle a laugh. “Fine. You want me to play rough?” I make a show of cracking my knuckles, like I’m going into battle. “You once used the word aggravate wrong in a sentence. Technically it means to intensify not to annoy. Just for the record.”

“Did you just correct my grammar?” he whispers lowly.

“…Maybe.”

“Shit just got real.” His eyes narrow. “There’s no going back, now.”

I bite my lip so I won’t laugh. “Bring it.”

“Oh, I will. This is war.”

“I’m hearing a lot of empty talk, playboy.”

“Fine.” He drops his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I hope every time you charge your phone at night, the cord doesn’t go all the way in and you wake up with a dead battery!”

I gasp. “Well… I hope the next chocolate chip cookie you bite into is actually oatmeal raisin.”

“I hope you pick the slowest line at the checkout every time you go grocery shopping.”

“I hope every prime parking space you find actually has a motorcycle in it when you start to pull in!”

“Wow. That’s just… evil.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea I was falling for such a sociopath.”

“This is the worst fight ever,” I say, laughing. “You’re terrible at this.”

“At fighting with you?” His eyes get warm. “Maybe that’s because I’d rather be doing other things with you.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks innocently.

“Like you know what I look like naked.”

“But I do know—”

“Parker.”

“Fine, fine.” He reaches for the key and turns over the ignition. “Let’s get this damn fight over with. There are several creative methods I had in mind for ringing in the New Year with you. Shockingly, none of them involved watching two sweaty, bare-chested dudes wrestle.”

I roll my eyes. “Just drive the car, drama queen.”

He sighs as we jolt away from the curb, one hand gripping the wheel tightly as we merge into traffic. His other hand is twined tightly with mine on the console between us, which only adds to the warm glow spreading inside me.

Lancaster is in custody.

Christmas was actually kind of amazing.

Five kickass women befriended me against my will.

And it’s all because of this amazing man, holding my hand and simultaneously holding my whole world together.

I don’t know if it’s sheer force of will or pure stubbornness driving him to try to save me from everything — even myself. Frankly, I don’t care.

So long as he keeps being here, holding my hand and leading me through this mess called life, I think I’ll be okay.

Does that scare the shit out of me?

Of course. I’ve never been one to willingly depend on another person.

Does that mean I’m going to run?