Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(26)

“True,” he said hoarsely.
“Sorry. A total lie.”

“Shit.” He was a bit slower knocking that one back. But when he looked at her again, he had a glimmer in his eye. “My turn. First time I rode a bull, my cup damn near pinched off my balls.”

She winced in sympathy. “Oh, I’ll bet that hurt.” Her eyes roamed his angular face, noticing the color spreading across his cheekbones. Talking about it embarrassed him. She permitted a small, smug smile. “True.”

His wicked grin appeared and he topped off her glass. “Lie. Bull riders don’t wear a cup.”

“Dammit. I am so not playing poker with you.” Ava sucked in a breath and held it while she slammed the whisky. She let out a stream of air that sounded like a hiss.
“Are you starting to feel the effects of your losing streak, Ava Rose?”

God she loved the husky way he drew out her whole name. “Losing streak? I believe we’re tied.” Or maybe Chase was right. Maybe she was losing because the shots were blurring together. Ava squinted at him. “Are you feeling the whisky at all? Or am I just a lightweight?”

“I’m feelin’ it.”

She tried really hard to concentrate on those tempting lips and smoky-blue bedroom eyes, but his handsome face kept swimming out of focus.
“Ava? You okay?”

Instead of admitting No, I am totally wasted, she offered him the charming smile she was known for. “Just thinking about the subject of lies.”

“What about it?”

“What’s the biggest lie you ever told?”

That I’m not gonna sleep with you.
Jesus. Where had that come from?
The booze, probably.
Ironic, they’d been talking about alcohol-fueled mistakes. No way would Chase let his whisky throw-down with her become an excuse to take her to bed.
Besides, Ava Cooper, TV star, was out of his league. Way out. The rich girl bombshell wouldn’t have looked at him twice if they hadn’t accidentally ended up hiding out at the same place. Plus, her feminine pride and sexual self-esteem had taken a blow because of her * gay ex-boyfriend, so naturally she wanted to prove her sex appeal to a man. Any man. He just happened to be convenient.
Chase didn’t like being convenient.
“Hey, cowboy, are you ignoring me because I’m drunk?” Ava clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.
“I think we oughta call it a night, Hollywood.”

“Fine by me.” She stood. Swayed. And would’ve hit the floor if Chase had slower reflexes.
“Whoa, there. Not so fast.”

She inhaled deeply. Exhaled gustily. “You know today when you said I smelled great? Well, I’ll bet you smell great all over too.” She nuzzled the side of his head.
“Stop sniffing me. It tickles.”

“Where else are you ticklish?”

“My feet.”

Ava frowned. “Lie. I’ll bet you’re most ticklish behind your balls. I bet I can prove it.”

You’re on. Let’s test your theory right now.
No. No. No. No.
“Ah, Ava, we’re not playing the game anymore.”

“Oh. Shoot. Everything is spinning anyway. I just really need to go to sleep now. Nighty night.” She started down the hallway, stripping clothes as she bounced from wall to wall like a slow-moving pinball.
The seven—or was it eight?—shots hit him full force. The hallway became a tunnel-like funhouse mirror. Distorted. Sideways. He stretched his arms into a T and put one wobbly foot in front of the other.
He had to stop and grip the doorframe leading to the bedroom when he saw Ava sprawled face first on the mattress. Would you lookit that. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t f*ckin’ blind.