Page 144 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“I’m not jealous of anything those too-friendly fingers touch.”
“She’s in good hands.” His smugness is palpable, and it’s almost like he’s begging for someone to knock him down a peg.
My axe pauses mid-air. “Put her down.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
I didn’t allow it.
I didn’t want to say it.
It’s none of my damn business.
Now all eyes are on me.
I know it.
I feel it.
Because they all think I have a thing for her—because I fucking do have a thing for her. Have since the first time I saw her, really saw her.
And it wasn’t the first time I caught a glimpse of her sneaking toward the events storage room after I’d finished practice and saw her. That had been more intrigue than anything.
Why had she been nervously looking around before quietly slipping inside?
Why’d she go in there all alone?
What had she been doing?
My curiosity had sparked, and I’d followed her in. Not because I couldn’t take my eyes off her, that didn’t come until later. And by then, it was too late.
“Sure thing, big guy. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your big feelings.” Bronx’s smirk deepens, eyes glinting with a playful challenge.
With a self-assured motion, he sets her down, his eyes daring me not to look away.
The subtle composure in his gesture is both a tease and a warning, making it clear he isn’t about to back down without a bit of showmanship.
I’m not about to get into a pissing contest over her.
So why the hell do I end up changing into clean clothes and tagging along to the bar with them like a lost puppy?
Because I’ll be damned if I let him think he has free rein. Maybe I’m fooling myself, thinking I can keep an eye on the situation and walk away unscathed.
Dean bumps my side. “You alright?”
The group is ahead of us, laughing and joking, their voices carrying in the warm evening air as we make our way from the campsite toward the town bar.
“Fine.” It’s rough and growly, the exact opposite of my claim.
I can’t peel my eyes off Jade, all sun-kissed skin and curves wrapped in that sage green dress that dances around her legs with every step.
Not that I’m paying attention.
Oh fuck, I’m not even kidding myself anymore.
I am paying attention.
I never stopped.
I noticed how it dips low in front and nearly made me forget how to breathe. I noticed her cinched waist and the slit, high enough to tempt the devil himself.
