Page 25 of The Confidentiality Clause
“What was that for?” he asks in an exasperated tone.
“I want ice cream.”
He shoots me an unamused look and throws the pillow back at me. I catch it before it smacks me in the face. He goes back to typing. Since I came in from watching the sunset, he’s been glued to his laptop like it’s an oxygen tank and he’s a hundred feet underwater. I haven’t bothered him, since I did kidnap him a few hours ago, but my patience for excessive typing sounds has run out.
“I don’t see how that’s my problem.”
“It’s not, but the fact that you don’t have any clothes is,” I say with a smile.
He groans and pushes his hands into his hair. “I forgot about that. How far away is the nearest store?”
“About twenty minutes. There’s an outdoor clothing store right next to the ice cream shop.”
“Of course there is,” he says drily. His laptop snaps shut. “Fine, let’s go before it gets too late.”
“Your enthusiasm is admirable.”
“Don’t test me, Duke.”
I give him a cheeky grin. “Don’t tempt me, Carolina.”
He swipes a hand over his mouth, failing to hide his smile. “Will getting you ice cream make you more or less of a menace?”
“Only one way to find out.”
I hop up off the couch, head to the door, and start to slide on my shoes.
“Actually, I just remembered a time when you and Sutton had a sleepover at our house. You both made a giant ice cream sundae and then drew on my face with eyeliner,” Brock says from behind me. I laugh at the memory. “I think we should stay here. You’re dangerous with a sugar high.”
I shake my head. “It’s just like a man to not know how to handle me.” The words are a joke–mostly. I might be covering up the aching wound with a little humor.
Brock walks up to me, his brown eyes heated. “I could handle you.”
I swallow. “Is that so?”
He smirks. Leans in. “Only one way to find out.”
My eyes widen. Words bloom then wither on my tongue. Then he opens the door. He was leaning to grab thedoorknob. His chuckle is husky and warm–no,grating–in my ear as he brushes past me. I definitely do not have goosebumps.
“Come on, Duke, don’t want the store to close before I can buy swim trunks,” he says over his shoulder on the way to the car. The porch light illuminates the driveway when he walks outside.
I grit my teeth. “It would be good for you to remember we’re alone in the woods and no one knows you’re here,” I say as I stomp to the car.
He meets my eyes over the hood. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
My face burns. I jerk on the handle of the driver’s side door and almost rip my arm out of its socket. It doesn’t open. Because my keys areinside. Brock’s shoulders shake as he laughs.
“Shut up,” I say, trying not to laugh with him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your thoughts are as loud as a fog horn.”
“If they were, you’d be blushing even more than you are right now.”
I gape at him. “Quit–quitflirtingwith me!” I sputter. We don’t do this. We mess with each other, sure, but if he’s flirting with me, we have much bigger problems than I thought.
“I’m not flirting with you, Duke. If I was, you’d know.”
