Page 175 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

I nod. “Tell me.”

Ocean-blue eyes plunge into mine, and I use my hand to cup her face, my thumb sliding across her bottom lip.

Shit, she’s breathtaking.

So much so that she’s fucking painful to look at.

“You and I were horse racing in the grocery store, and if we lost, we’d get our face shoved in a bucket of hot sauce.”

I snort. “Damn. Did we win, at least?”

“No, but I wasn’t going to let them hot-sauce us to death, so I pulled a coconut out of my jeans and beat them up.”

I bite back a laugh, twirling a strand of her hair around my finger. “Them who?”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “The people forcing us to horse race in the grocery store, keep up.”

We exchange glances and burst out laughing.

God, her laugh.

It’s breathy and quiet and so fucking beautiful.

Our laughter dies down a heartbeat later, the radiant smile on her lips fading along with it.

It’s as though she just realized something, and that something sucked every ounce of joy from her body.

“What’s wrong?” I drop my hand to the small of her back.

“I was just thinking about the bonfire.”

Oh.

That.

Last night was a shitshow.

And I’m not saying I’m innocent, but even she has to admit Cal was just begging to have his fucking teeth kicked in. Granted, he was drunk off his face, but there’s no excuse for what he said to her.

No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. It’s bad enough that he was pressuring her when she’d made it crystal clear she wasn’t into him, but bringing up Gray? There was no goddamn way he was going home without a black eye after that one.

Worry darkens her features. “Do you think Jamie’s mad at me?”

I raise a brow. “Why would she be?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I rejected her brother twice. Oh, and my boyfriend punched him in the face.”

Her boyfriend.

Hearing her say that feels damn near orgasmic. If we weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, I’d be pulling my phone out, asking her to say it again and using that shit as my fucking ringtone.

“You weren’t the one refusing to take no for an answer.” I rub her back.

She gives a small nod, averting her sad puppy eyes and chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Jesus, I’m pretty sure shoving my hand into a blender would hurt less than seeing her like this.

“Hey.” I tilt her chin forward, guiding her gaze to mine. “It wasn’t your fault. Jamie will understand.”

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