Flirting With Disaster (4 page)

She glanced his way. “What you're doing now
for instance is exactly what I'm talking about.”

He tilted his head. “And that is?”

“
I bet you don't think
there's anything wrong with it either.”

“
What?” He was starting to
sound as annoyed as he felt.

She wrenched something from under the hood,
inspected the long piece of rusted metal and tossed it to the
ground. “You think I'm pretty, don't you?”

He knew there had to be some trap at the end
of the question that would bite him in the ass later. “You're not
ugly.”

She shook her head and laughed. “You've been
checking out my ass. I think I'm a step above not ugly.”

Shit. She'd noticed.

He shrugged, but his shoulders felt tight.
“Your point?”

“
Stop acting like you're
not looking.” She straightened, pulled out her pad, and made some
notes. When she was done, she met his gaze. “Because that's what
annoyed me about you in the beginning, and it's what continues to
grate on my nerves. You could have just said,
yes, I wasn't expecting a woman
.
Or
yes, I had doubts you were able to fix
my car
. I can take that. I can't tolerate
being lied to. Feels too much like I'm being patted on my head and
told I shouldn't worry myself.”

A small warning bell went off in his head.
Someone in her past had patted her on her head. And Dane reminded
her of that person. That much he knew because she did the same to
him. “Huh.”

Her brows rose. “What does that mean?”

“
It means we won't ever see
eye-to-eye. Not because I'd lie to you or pat you on your head. You
think I would or have.” He gestured behind her. “What's with the
car?”

She hesitated as though considering to fight
with him or not about his statement. “Under the hood it needs the
least amount of work out of all the ones we've seen today.”

He glanced at the car and couldn't believe
her. He knew enough about his classic to figure out what had
stranded him on the roadside, but not enough to fix it. He damn
sure wouldn't be able to rebuild it from the ground up. “I'm the
noob here and you're the expert.”

Her gaze narrowed on him as though she was
trying to read more into what he said, and he let her. The day had
been long enough, and if he had patience, he'd lost it around car
five. For the last week they'd emailed back and forth detailing
their needs for this project and their main focus had been on
finding the cars.

After an hour of arguing, they'd agreed to
take whatever people donated. Then she sent him a photo of a car
that was pretty much tires and frame. It had taken another two days
to come up with criteria and realize they needed to do field work.
Lots of it.

So, his morning had started with not enough
coffee. Then he'd been stuck in her tow truck that was hot and
smelled like her. Even that hadn't been a true break from standing
out in the searing spring sun. They'd spent hours alone with each
other. He had plenty of reasons for being on edge.

Brooke pushed out a breath. “That leaves us
with six definites, not including your car since I haven't looked
at it yet.”

“
I sent out some emails
last night and got two more solid yeses on donations.”

She made a face. “That leaves us with at
least eight more to go. I'll call my...contact.”

His brows rose at the shifty phrase. “That's
the second time you've said it like that. Who is it?”

She looked away. “A contact.”

He scoffed. “No wonder you're honest. You
can't lie for shit.”

“
I just want to keep his
identity a secret.” She lifted her chin.

His
, she’d said.

Dane rocked on his heels and tried to
imagine the type of man she'd go for. She might hold a blue-collar
job, but something told him she hadn't grown up in a blue-collar
environment. Though she fought for her business, there wasn't a
desperation to it, as though she had to succeed because this was
her only livelihood, her only back up plan. It felt more like a
thing of pride, which was enough to make her stubborn about the
whole process. Lastly, if she were truly broke, she wouldn't have
been able to pick up the tab for the repairs.

“
A him,” he said.
“Huh.”

“
Not a
him
,” she corrected. “Just a
him.”

Because he couldn't let her win every round,
he said, “Now are you telling me this so I'm aware you aren't
taken? Or just for general information?”

Her lips thinned. “When I start to think 'I
can like this guy,' you go and be a bickering dick.” She put up her
hand. “Yes, I know, technically dicks can't bicker, but you're
insufferable.”

Since that's exactly what he’d planned to
say next, he laughed. “Admit it, you're having fun.”

Her gaze told him the truth before her mouth
formed the lie. “No.”

“
No you aren't having fun
or no you won't admit it?”

She smiled at him. “Yes.”

He'd asked for that. “I'm not the only one
being insufferable.” Her silky laugh washed over him and made his
stomach go tight from need. “Are we done for the day?”

She shook her head. “There's still another
five cars on the list.”

Hell. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and
said from behind his palm, “What list?”

“
The one I remembered and
didn't tell you about. I wanted to see how long you'd
last.”

He tilted his head, dropping his hands to
his side, and glanced at her tight shirt. Her nipples were hard
again. She was enjoying this. Not for the first time he worried
their arguments and bickering were a form a foreplay, and they'd
been at it for a year.

Well, he could always test that theory.
“This isn't how you find out about my stamina,” he said.

Her mouth dropped open. “Dane, that is not
part of the rules.”

For a woman who was forthright about pretty
much everything, she sounded scandalized. He fought the smile. “We
have rules?”

“
I figure out various ways
to call you a douchebag, and you figure out ways to call me a
shrew.”

And this was another reason why he hadn't
bailed. He liked her twisted sense of humor. “But we just agreed I
like the way your ass looks, so now we have to add sexual innuendo
to our exchanges. Or didn't you pick up that subtle cue?”

She shifted and looked flustered. “No.”

His brows rose. He'd never seen her like
this. The Brooke who gave him nothing but shit would have never let
him catch her stammering. Oh, she was still giving him a run for
his money, but this side of her was interesting. He pushed, “We
didn't agree or you're unsure that I like the look of you bending
over?”

He saw the corner of her mouth twitch, but
she held the full smile back. “Now you're objectifying me.”

He shrugged. “I'm very aware you're smart,
and also that you wouldn't piss on me if I were on fire. I also
can't help but quietly write odes to the way your denims hug your
ass. Trust me, I'm more bothered by that than you.”

Something warm and fluid filled her gaze at
his words. “What a way to give a girl a compliment.”

“
One?” he said in a mock
offended tone. “I said two nice things about you.”

“
Right.” She bit her bottom
lip for a second, and he could tell she was doing her best to hide
a smile. “It’s true that I wouldn't piss on you if you were on
fire.”

Dane snorted. He suspected they could do
this for twenty-four hours straight and not miss a step. He had a
moment's worry about how appealing that idea was. He wanted to know
if she'd keep up, never straying into a dismal and unforgiving
insult. It was a line neither had crossed and he doubted they
would. Some words couldn't be taken back. He and his ex had slung
plenty at each other before their relationship imploded. Reminded
of that, Dane did his best to beat back the attraction, because no
matter how appealing she was, Brooke reminded him too much of his
ex.

He motioned to the gate between the front
yard and the back. “Come on, she-devil. Let's get through the rest
of the list.”

“
Now you're using terms of
endearment. I am sure you think I'm pretty.”

Of course he thought her sharp chin and
milk-chocolate brown eyes were beautiful, especially when her grin
turned mischievous. It usually did when she told him to fuck off in
the nicest way possible. That was the problem. Dane found her
unbearably attractive.

If he scraped away their history, he'd have
wanted to place kisses on her neck, collarbone and then lower. And
lower. Until he suckled her and then he could hear her voice turn
husky as she moaned. In moments like this, he knew she wanted him
to do the same.

But what were Brooke's
reminders to keep her hands to herself?
He
knew she hadn't grown up here. In the past year no family had
visited her. And he'd seen her with her friends. She was warm, kind
and fiercely loyal to them. Today he'd seen glimpses of that woman,
and he wanted to know more.

Fuck
. So instead of denying the obvious—he'd found her more than
pretty—Dane motioned for her to go first through the
gate.

Brooke seemed to put a little bit extra in
the switch in her hips when she walked. The motion drew his gaze
down to her ass and nowhere else. About halfway to the front, she
glanced over her shoulder with a grin, proving his suspicion.

Yeah. She wanted him to look at her ass, and
that was different and new for them.

Dane knew he should have felt wary or
cautious, but her smile was more alluring than her ass. He was
doomed.

*****

Brooke couldn't say no when Peyton asked her
to lend an extra hand at The Grog Monster. Later that night,
practically everyone in Tanner Creek was there. That didn't count
the travelers and truck drivers stopping for the night.

The hardwood floors complimented the leather
booths accentuated with silver buttons. Chalkboards covered the
walls, listing the drinks, and some had funny sayings. Small town
bar or not, it was rustic and elegant. Being so close to the
weekend, there was no wonder they were busy. The bar was loud, but
in spite of the distractions, Brooke finished fulfilling one last
order of beer before facing Peyton.

Her friend's brunette strands were tucked
away in a ponytail. Peyton’s cheeks had a rosy glow. Her brown eyes
were filled with mischief. She looked undeniably happy, and that
was part of the reason Brooke hadn’t been able to say no. Her
friend was in love with Tate Briggs, the local handyman, and being
around Peyton left Brooke happy, too.

But there were more important things for
them to talk about tonight than love and happiness.

“
I am denouncing my
friendship to Naomi,” Brooke said.

Peyton scoffed and wiped down her section of
the bar's counter as she moved closer. “She told me. I'm so proud
of her.”

She kind of expected that answer and bit
back the smile. “Really? You didn't hear what I just said. I'm
defriending her.”

“
But you can't. It's not
the Internet, and you're not really that mad.”

“
She's being meddlesome,
which makes her a hypocrite. Every night she likely goes to bed
sexually frustrated. She's sworn off men after her divorce. I've
sworn off Dane, but like most things, what is good for the gander
is not good for the goose.”

Peyton blinked. “When did you first feel the
need to swear him off?”

Dammit. She didn't want to talk about Dane.
She'd spent the day with him and had a surprisingly good time. Oh,
yeah, he found buttons to press as did she, but in between that
they laughed more than they fought. The circumstance was exactly as
she feared: She liked him.

Brooke waved her hand. “Let's skip that
part.”

Her friend leaned against the bar. Even as
packed as the Grog was, it was a slow night for drink orders.
Brooke couldn't count how many times she had to refill the peanut
bowl. Sooner or later they had to get thirsty.

Peyton sighed, the sound filled with
exasperation. “And this is where you lose me. You're attracted to
him and he's attracted to you. I think you're more mad about that
than anything he's said or done.”

Brooke put a hand on her
hip, hating the fact her friend was a
little
right. “Wouldn't you be pissed
if you wanted to sleep with an asshole?”

“
Not that mad. For the
record, I think Dane's nice. He gives you shit because you give the
same to him, which leads me to believe you make sure he's mean to
you.”

Brooke looked at her friend as though the
woman had lost her mind. “So I have to be nice first? Why?”

Peyton laughed and shook her head. “Don't
get started on your I'm-woman-and-hear-me-roar bit. If you noticed
someone only snapped at you because you did it first, would you
stop? Would you take a moment and reassess?”

“
I hate my friends,” Brooke
muttered, but bumped Peyton playfully with her shoulder, because
she could see her point “They always want me to be reasonable. And
he's so condescending.”

“
You're
abrasive.”

“
He thinks he knows
everything.”

“
So do you.”

Brooke huffed out a chuckle. “I'll go
through my list and you'll counter everything, won't you?”

Her friend tugged at her ponytail and
grinned. “Yup.”

Brooke sighed, unsure of what to say next.
“So how's being the town's slut going for you?”