Page 37 of Keep Your Guard Up
Those particular creases told me he was in fact smiling true.
Chance boggled my mind in ways I hadn’t even known were possible. He drove me to a state of pure anger one second, pure libido the next. He sprinted circles in my head, not to mention he put on one hell of a guns-show when he was teaching.
Fucking nowhere is safe from this man and his orgasmic, god-like existence.
Chance’s creases deepened even further, and I startled when it became obvious he’d caught me staring.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I downed another drink.
Fuck. My. Life.
Chance snickered and stood, patting JJ on the back before moving over towards the bar. Moving? No—gliding.
Yes, this man glided.
Jesus, Mari. How many drinks have you had?
He picked up a bottle of whiskey—my favourite kind, in fact—and nodded his head towards the door, his blue eyes boring into mine.
Not enough.
I broke.
I was up and out the door before he was, sprinting down the back exit hallway.
His laugh was behind me; such a delightful sound, running its way down to my bones.
I couldn’t even hold back the laugh that tumbled out of me.
A bright flash blinded me momentarily. Paige, our town’s customary artistic photographer, stepped aside as she lowered her camera. A big smile with a crooked gap between her two front teeth beamed back at us as we slowed our pace slightly. She flashed me a double thumbs up, and we were off again.
I ran over to the pub’s mailbox and slipped two crisp pineapples into it for the whiskey Chance was currently holding.
“You don’t think someone’ll wanna grab that?” he asked me.
I laughed again. A jolt of excitement going straight to my chest at the sparkle in his eye when I made such a noise.
Or maybe it is just the alcohol.
“People don’t steal shit in Soggla, Chance,” I replied. “At least not the locals.” I winked at him and gestured to the bottle of whiskey.
He laughed before taking a swig and handing me the slightly cool glass. I took two long gulps before we moved along and started walking up the road.
Gym-ward. Where else?
“So … did you know this is my favourite brand of whiskey or is it a happy coincidence?”
He gently pulled the bottle out of my hands and gulped again before looking down at the bottle and smiling. “This is actually my favourite whiskey as well,” he replied. “I haven’t been able to drink it for a few years now. Wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.”
I chuckled. “What, were you in prison or something?”
He smiled down at the bottle again.
“Something like that.” He lifted the whiskey and tookfourlong gulps as if it were orange juice. “So, tell me,” he offered the drinkmy way. “What’s it like being the daughter of the great Elijah Trevino?”
