The Lineup(33)

“Obnoxious in a good way?” I ask while batting my eyelashes.

She stares at me for a few seconds and then answers, “No.”

Sheesh, tough crowd.





“How long has it been?” Dottie’s leg is shaking and she’s looking impatient. Oh shit, does she have to go to the bathroom?

“Thirty-six minutes,” I answer, looking at the time on my phone.

“Only thirty-six minutes?” She groans. “Feels like three hours.”

“Time sure does fly by when you’re having fun, huh?” I say sarcastically, eyes trained on her leg that doesn’t seem to be able to sit still. “Do you have to pee or something?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Because you’re bouncing your leg, and it’s annoying.”

“Oh, I’m annoying?” She points to her chest. “This coming from the guy who doesn’t seem to get a hint.”

“Oh, I get them, I just choose not to accept them.” I nod at her leg. “So why the bouncing? Are you claustrophobic?”

“Not really, but I don’t like being suspended in the air by cables, wondering if we’re going to plummet to our death.”

“Now that you put it like that, you have me slightly shaking in my skivvies. Can you hold me?” I stretch out my arms, giving her easy access.

“You’re pathetic. If you want a piece of me, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“You think I want a piece of you?”

“It’s so obvious, Jason.”

There’s a light air about her right now, as if she’s forgotten that she hates me. And it’s funny, watching her almost . . . flirt. There’s still a stiff set to her shoulders and robotic movements with her hands, but there’s a smile that wants to peek through and I’ll be honest, I’m here for it.

Also, yeah, I want a piece of her. She’s confident, sexy, and even though she prefers to keep the fun side of her away from the public eye as much as possible, I see it in her, and I want to expose it.

“And if I asked you out on a date? What would you say?”

“No.”

Oof. If she didn’t follow that comment with a tiny glint in her eye, I would be taking a beating to my ego.

“What if I asked you out with my shirt off, would that change your mind?”

She glances at my stomach and then back up at my eyes. “I’m not really into beer guts.”

Oh, she’s fucking fresh.

“I know what you’re doing.” I wag my finger at her. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But I see right through you, Dot Dot.”

“Call me that again and I will kick your dick off.”

“Yikes, woman.” I laugh and she smiles back at me. “No nicknames, I get it, but your off-color threat doesn’t distract me from finding you out.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, exasperated.

“Saying I have a beer gut. You and I both know that’s not true. You’re just trying to rile me up so I take my shirt off. Oh yes, I see right through you, lady.”

“I really couldn’t care less if you take your shirt off.”

“See?” I point at her. “There you go again. Reverse psychology. It’s not going to work on me. I’m smarter than you think. I might be a jock, but I’m not a dumb jock. I was an engineering major.”

“Okay, whatever.”

“You know what?” I stab the floor with my finger. “I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to take my shirt off because I want to, not because you told me not to. I’m reversing your reverse psychology.”

She looks puzzled. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“It is. Watch.” From behind, I reach and pull my shirt up and over my head then neatly fold it and set it on my lap. I turn more toward her and give her a good flex.

But when I catch her facial expression, it’s completely blank. No googly eyes, no shocked expression, no admiration. Just blank.

Well, shit.





Chapter Nine





DOTTIE





If I had cell service, I would be texting Emory right now telling her we’re no longer friends.

Oh, don’t worry, Dottie, Jason won’t be there. He’ll be on vacation.

Lies. All lies.

And now I’m stuck in an elevator with the man, the guy who hasn’t left my mind since that godforsaken email Lindsay sent. Two weeks. Yup. Two weeks of me thinking about Jason Orson in inappropriate ways, of searching his name on the Internet and envisioning what it would feel like to run my fingers up and down his rigid abs. Two weeks of wondering what his voice sounds like in bed. Two weeks of trying to hold back the smile that crosses my face when I see him.

It’s been draining, to say the least. I’m a tough girl, I know that, but I’ve never been . . . nasty. And honestly, some of the things that have come out of my mouth when talking to Jason would horrify my parents. Hell, they’ve horrified me when they’ve come out. They didn’t raise me to be sharp-tongued and vindictive. Quite the opposite if I’m honest. But this man? He pushes my buttons, and not always in a bad way like my behavior would indicate.