Page 36 of Score on You

Callie is already swiveling on her stool with the Polaroid poised in midair. I position myself over her left shoulder. My eyes automatically shift to where she’s smiling at the lens. A flash signals the moment caught on film.

“That’s going to be a keeper,” she croons while turning back to face me.

“Of course,” I rasp. “You’re in it.”

A flush burns a splotchy path along her slender throat. “I think most would say that you’re the one they want to see.”

“Good thing nobody else matters.”

The grin she gave for the photo doesn’t compare to the one aimed at me. “Did you look at the camera this time?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her lips twist. “You’re a stinker.”

This woman can call me whatever she wants so long as her attention remains on me. I’m hanging on her every word. A puddle of drool is probably collecting on the bar top, but that’s the furthest thing from my mind as she sips at her drink again. The glass will be drained very soon at this rate.

“More?”

She giggles. “Are you trying to keep me here all night?”

My gaze burns into hers. “Only if I’m lucky, sweetness.”

Callie returns my stare with unwavering intensity. “I think luck is heavily in our favor, Ridge.”

A cheesy imitation of cracking a whip bursts our bubble. The mocking sound deserves immediate action for breaking my concentration. I’m forced to rip my gaze off Callie and losing that connection to her is critical. For the offense, I stab the guilty party with a glare.

This asshole’s interruption is a spear of ice that attempts to freeze my bloodstream. It’s as if I just got dunked into a frigid lake. Based on how the douche canoe is cowering, my expression must reflect the intention to kick his ass. But just in case, I decide to spell it out.

“Fuck off.” My voice vibrates with the need for retribution.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean to make you mad, Crusher. I was just screwing around.”

“Do you think I’m the type of person who appreciates such juvenile fuckery?”

His scrawny frame trembles on the stool he’s fortunate enough to still occupy. He’s probably seconds away from pissing himself. “Nope. That’s my mistake. Sorry, man.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” My head tips in Callie’s direction.

His wide stare shifts over to her. “I’m sorry.”

She scrunches her forehead, but doesn’t respond to his bullshit apology. Instead, her baby blues search my gaze that’s faithfully returned to hers. “I think he’s scared of you.”

“As he should be.” But then an ugly thought occurs to me. “Are you afraid of me?”

She shakes her head, sending brown hair tumbling around her shoulders. “I don’t think that’s possible. You’re not scary to me.”

“Thank fuck for that, sweetness. Now,” I drawl and lower myself to her level. “Where were we?”

Callie:Hello, Ridge. Are you next door or did you go back to work? Thanks for driving me home. You didn’t need to do that.

Ridge:I wasn’t about to let you walk in your first ever drunken state

Callie:Walking is my only form of transportation. I don’t know how to drive.

Ridge:well, shit smh had I known that’s how you got to the bar, I would’ve picked you up to begin with

Callie:No way. That would’ve ruined the surprise.

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