Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(9)

He grinned when he saw me, and I tried my hardest to stop checking him out. I already knew he looked good. I would only embarrass myself by ogling him.

“I’d like to say several things,” he began, “but since we’re just being friendly, may I just say that you look very nice.”

“Thank you,” I told him, still trying hard not to check him out. He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets, and my eyes went to his chest, fascinated with the way that the material pulled there. “You look very nice, too.”

His grin deepened, and his dimples made my own self-destructive music play at full volume in my head. “You like to dance?”

Oh, God, please say he doesn’t dance, I thought. Please, please, please, say he’s not good at it. “I do,” I said, my tone flat.

He wiggled his brows at me playfully. “That’s good. So do I. We’ll have to see if you can keep up.”

I folded my arms across my chest, arching a brow at him. “I can go all night.”

He touched a hand to his forehead, looking pained. “Tease,” he murmured, opening the front door for me.

Either Bev or Jerry had been nice enough to shut the dogs in back so they wouldn’t be rushing the front door as we left.

“Am I driving?” I asked. I didn’t really want to drive my beat up, 98’ civic to the strip, but I was pretty sure that was our only option, since Tristan had clearly driven to the house in Jerry’s car.

“Nope.” He pointed to a black sedan that was idling at the curb. “I’d hate to make the twenty-one year old act as the designated driver. That’s blasphemy. My friend is going to take us. He owes me a few favors.”

He opened the back door of the car for me, I slid in, and he shut it behind me, climbing into the passenger’s seat.

A skinny, brown-haired guy sat behind the driver’s seat. He wore black-framed eyeglasses. He was handsome, in a hipster sort of way, with even features, and dark eyes. I thought he could have been a year or two older than me.

He flashed me a friendly smile as Tristan made introductions. “This is Kenny. Our friends love nicknames, though, so we call him Pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” I asked.

Kenny rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“We call him that because he’s a nice guy. No matter how brief the hookup, he’ll always make a girl pancakes in the morning.”

It was my turn to do some eye rolling. “Aren’t you a bunch of charmers.”

Kenny grinned, and Tristan laughed.

“What about you?” I asked Tristan. “You don’t even make them pancakes?”

“If they’re around in the morning, sure. I’m not opposed to cooking.”

“Do you have a nickname?”

“Tristan is the only name I answer to,” he said.

Kenny shot him a wide-eyed look. “The guys call him Tryst, like with a Y, but he hates it.”

“That’s adorable,” I said, instantly liking the way it made him glare. He was way too smiley, most of the time. “Tryst. A nice way to call you a man-whore. I like it.”

Tristan turned in his seat to look at me. “You are not allowed to call me that.”

I shrugged at him, grinning. “How on earth could you stop me?”

He grinned right back. “Trust me, I’ll think of something.”

Of course that only made me curious about what he would do. “Sure thing, Tryst,” I told him.

He shook his head. “Don’t make me get out of my seat.”

“What will you do?”

He thought it over. “Let me try again. It’s obvious threats only encourage you. If you can refrain from calling me that, I will cook you breakfast.”

“I don’t like pancakes,” I warned him.

“I’ll make you anything you want. Consider me your short order cook.”

“Is this offer good for only one breakfast?”

“I’ll make you whatever you want, every morning I stay at the house.”

“Deal,” I told him quickly. After tasting his cookies, I wanted whatever he was cooking. “But I’m very picky. You’ll have your work cut out for you in the morning.”

He just smiled. “I look forward to it. I’m going to blow your mind.”

I crossed my legs, looking away, my mind veering far from the thought of food.

“So you two aren’t….dating?” Kenny asked Tristan, shooting him a glance.

“We’re not, but don’t get any ideas. None of you knuckleheads are allowed to go near her. Spread the word.”

“What sort of caveman reasoning is that?” I piped in, agitated. I certainly had no intention of dating one of his obviously immature friends, but I sure as hell didn’t think he should have a say in it.

He flashed those damned dimples at me, so charming that I wanted to hit him over the head with my purse. “Just looking out for my friend. You’re the relationship type. None of the guys you’re going to meet are. I’m looking to save you a headache down the road.”

“How sweet,” I murmured, wondering what I was getting myself into with this crowd. “We meeting all of these charmers tonight?”

“I don’t know who will be there,” Tristan said, looking at Kenny.