No Perfect Hero(34)

“Truth.”

Her eyes sparkle wickedly. “No dare? Don’t trust me?”

“No.”

That prompts another laugh, and I grin back.

Hot damn, she’s gorgeous when she laughs, the way her eyes crease at the corners and shine, the way her lips part, how she throws her head back and gives herself to it fully. I’d rather see her laughing than crying, though I get needing to get those feelings out, cry them dry, until they’re not so hard to carry anymore.

Right now, she’s distracted and eyeballing me, tapping her beer bottle against her lush, rosy lower lip while she thinks.

“What’s up with you and Stewart?”

I blink. That’s a weird question. “Stew?”

“I can’t tell if you’re friends or enemies. You were kind of circling each other like wolves over a bone at Brody’s tonight.”

Shit. Was it really that obvious?

At least I can blame the hot flush in my face and neck on the steam, just like her. Because I can’t tell her we were circling each other over her, and Stewart tried to goad me into admitting some attraction to her. So even if I picked truth, I’m going to have to lie.

“He’s one of my closest friends,” I say. “We’re just like that. Ballbusters. We show affection by jabbing. Doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Are you like that with everyone?”

“Define ‘everyone.’”

She shrugs. “Your grandmother, your other friends, coworkers...girlfriend?”

I snort. “Grandma would skin me alive if I ever took that tone with her. The rest of my friends are complete cases of arrested development, more problems than you can shake a therapy stick at. I don’t have coworkers, and if you’re asking if I have a girlfriend, that’s two questions.”

Fuck, why does she care if I have a girlfriend?

Her grin shines back, triumphant. “Actually, three. You answered if you were like that with everyone, so I got an extra in.”

I steal another swig of beer. “Does that mean I get two this time?”

“I shouldn’t since you were the one who missed it, but...” She sticks the tip of her tongue out at me merrily. “I’ll let you. But how do you know I was going to pick truth?”

I can’t help myself. My gaze dips over her, trailing down to where the water turns her body into nothing but swirls of color. I know what she looks like now and can only imagine the wet slick glistening on her skin, making it gleam like caramel, waiting to be licked and licked and licked until she writhes. And as I raise my eyes again, hers are a little too wide, heart-shaped lips parted as she meets my gaze, beer bottle clutched in both hands.

“You want to pick dare?” I ask softly.

Haley swallows, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear, lowering her eyes. “Truth. I’ll stick with truth.”

Tell me the truth. Are you attracted to me?

I can’t ask that.

Can’t have those kinds of complications and entanglements right now.

Truly, my mind’s on one thing and one thing only – but I’ve got to divert myself before one of those downswept glances dips below the water and notices something I can’t really hide without being too obvious. It's only the refracting light dancing on the water making me decent.

So I search for something else, anything, and finally settle on it.

“You said you did claims adjustments...but you were painting. I thought you were an artist?”

“A wannabe,” she retorts bitterly before tacking on, “Oh, wait. We’re supposed to call ourselves ‘aspiring.’ Or ‘struggling’ if we want to be really edgy. Sounds better than 'starving,' I guess.” She shakes her head. “I keep trying. Have been for years. But...I thought I had a break when a local gallery did a showing for me. No one bought a damned thing, though. Not after a month. So the gallery tossed me out on my ass. Which was already sore from the spanking fate gave it with my day job firing me and my fiancé fucking my best friend.”

“Doesn’t seem like she was much of a friend,” I say. “Assuming the friend was a she.”

She lets out another laugh, but it’s not the same as before. It’s harsh and self-mocking. “I’d be less upset if it was a guy. If Eddy had just like...needed to find himself or some shit. I’d rather realize my fiancé was gay than know he just doesn’t respect me enough to keep his hands off other women.”

“I’d say doesn’t matter who it was. If you’re with someone, you honor that agreement. And if you can’t, you have the decency, the integrity, to break it the fuck off. Before fucking around with other people.”

“Yeah, well, asshole missed that lesson.” She shakes herself, taking a deep breath. “You’re supposed to get another question.”

And that’s her way of saying she doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

Okay. I can take a hint. “All right. You want truth for this one, or dare?”

“You know what? Screw it.” She shrugs defiantly. “Dare. Hit me with your worst.”

“Show me one of your paintings,” I say.

She goes so frozen it’s like she’s been captured in still life herself, the brush strokes of a woman. She just stares at me, those wide green eyes pure liquid crystal, parted lips so swollen and pink. “I...what? Why?”