Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(32)

Behind his back, he pressed his palm to the wall until the brick bit into his skin. He didn’t want to hear her admit how little she thought of him when she’d just made him feel so … free. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he kept needling her. “Is it because you have a biker fetish?”

Just as he’d hoped, her mouth popped open in a shocked little O and her dark eyes flooded with outraged humor instead of cold anxiety. “I—what? No. No, I do not have a biker fetish.” She wrinkled her nose at the words, as if the idea horrified her.

For some reason, he felt compelled to point out, “I’m not technically a biker, myself.”

She blinked.

“Not that it matters.” For fuck’s sake, what was he doing? Shaking his head, Red got back to the point. “Tell me, then. Why?”

He could see the indecision in her face, where last week he’d have seen nothing but cold blankness. She was trying to decide if she should tell him—or rather, what she should tell him. In the end, to his relief, she didn’t broach the topic that would change everything between them.

Instead, she said, “I have a list.”

His eyebrows rose. “A list?”

“Yes. A list of fun or exciting things that I intend to do, for … for reasons. And riding a motorbike was on the list.”

He grinned. So, Chloe had some kind of bad-girl bucket list? Hilarious. “Reasons, huh? What reasons?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, which only fed his curiosity. “What matters is that I have a proposition for you.”

Goddammit, his dick just wouldn’t stop reacting to that phrase. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” she confirmed crisply. “But we probably shouldn’t discuss it here. We’ll need to make some sort of appointment. Set the time aside. It’s quite in-depth.”

His lips twitched. Did she know she was adorable? Was she trying to be adorable? Maybe this was something they taught at private schools. Maybe she was reeling him in right this minute, and he’d wake up in a year’s time with his life in pieces, her perfume all over him, and a distinct feeling that he’d lost his fucking mind. But no, he reminded himself; these days, no one could reel him in unless he let them.

“Just tell me,” he said. “Give me a hint.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where is your patience?”

“Same place I left my shame.”

“I pity your mother. You must have been an infuriating child.”

“I’m her favorite child,” he corrected.

“You can’t have any siblings, then.”

“Wow. That hurts, Chloe. Gets me right here.” He clapped a hand over his chest because he was gravely wounded.

She snorted, zero sympathy. “Since you apparently have to know, I was thinking that perhaps … well, perhaps you could help me complete some other items on my list, the way you helped me today. And in return, I could build your whole website for free.”

His scowl was automatic. “I may not be loaded, but I can pay for the bloody website. I have savings. And anyway, it’s a business expense.” Been a while since he’d had any of those, but since he was about to be back in business …

“No. If you help me, I have to do something for you in return, so it’s fair. Even. A deal, like this. And the website’s all I can offer. It would be an exchange.”

He frowned at her insistent tone. “Just exactly how much ‘help’ do you need? What’s on this list?”

“Well, as I said, we should probably discuss it elsewhere.” Her gaze darted around like government spies might be lurking in piles of dead leaves. Like her list was some big, dangerous secret.

“The more you hesitate,” he told her, “the more I imagine terrible and/or kinky explanations.”

“Kinky?” she echoed, then slapped a hand over her mouth like she’d just blurted out, Fuck the pope. “I—no. It’s not. It’s just a list of things I want to do. Fun, exciting things.”

“Like bondage?”

“Like camping,” she snapped.

He’d been hoping she’d get all flustered and give it up, but he really hadn’t expected her juicy secrets to include … camping. “Seriously? You want me to help you camp?”

She nodded stiffly. “You’re probably much better with the outdoors than I am. You certainly couldn’t be worse. I also need to go out drinking. You know, partying. Which I’m sure will be much safer with someone who, erm … looks like you.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “What else?”

“As if that isn’t enough?” She shook her head ruefully. “There’s more on the list, but nothing you can help with.”

“What. Else?” Not that he was desperate to know, or anything. He was just curious. This list was … unexpected, like jigsaw pieces that didn’t quite fit together yet, but hinted at a surprising picture. He wanted to see the picture. That was all.

“Oh, well, I want to travel the world with nothing but hand luggage.” The words eased out of her like a creak from a carefully opened door, as if she were tiptoeing around the idea. Like it was silly. Like he would laugh.

The truth just up and fell out of his mouth. “As goals go, that’s fucking amazing.”