Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“What are they saying about me?” I can’t help but ask.

“Princess, do I look like the kind of guy who watches Entertainment Tonight?”

“No,” I admit. “But you do know what it is, so that’s something. Girlfriend turn you on to it?”

“Don’t have a girlfriend.”

The jealousy in my gut calms down. Slightly.

“Then where are you going?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the twilight. “You fishin’ for somethin’?”

Yes, I want to know if you’re going to go hook up with some other girl when there’s a slightly desperate one right here.

“I’m just wondering if I shouldn’t contact the local news sources,” I say, draping both arms over the windowsill and leaning forward slightly, matching his casual pose and tone. “If you’re on the prowl, the least I can do is warn the female population that they may want to steer clear of your ‘kiss.’?” I put the last word in air quotes.

“Is that right?” he drawls.

I shrug. “Too much tongue.”

Noah idly scratches under his chin with the back of his fingers. “As I remember it, you seemed to like my tongue just fine.”

I shake my head. “So sad. A mind so young, dementia settling in so soon.”

The sun’s nearly all the way gone now, and I can barely see him, but I feel his gaze as he reaches down with one hand and scratches Ranger’s head. “You can use the TV if you keep Ranger company. Also, wrote my cell number down. It’s on the counter if you need anything,” he says, moving to climb into the cab of the truck.

“What would I possibly need?” I call, strangely loath to see him leave.

This time his grin is more wicked than mocking. “I don’t know, princess. How about my tongue spending time somewhere a hell of a lot more interesting than your mouth?”

My lips part, but he disappears, climbing into the truck and slamming the door with a finality that tells me the conversation is over.

For now, Noah Maxwell. For now.

He lifts a mocking hand in farewell as he drives away, leaving behind two barking dogs and one very aroused female.

Noah

“You can’t ignore her forever,” Finn says as he idly rubs chalk onto the tip of his cue stick.

I take a sip of beer. “Ignore who?”

He gives me a steady look with his hazel eyes. “Don’t be a dick. You want to ditch the bitch, I’ve got your back. Hell, I’ve been telling you to get rid of Yvonne for years. But this isn’t the way to do it.”

I take another sip of beer. “Got nothin’ to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he says, lining up his cue. His hands are steady as the stick makes contact with the ball, but as usual nothing goes in the pockets. Finn Reed absolutely looks the type who should have the game of pool down, but he’s notoriously bad. I keep thinking he has some grand plan: establishing himself as the most helpless player in the history of the game, hoping to lure someone into putting down a shit-ton of money on a game, only to reveal himself as a secret master.

The big reveal has yet to happen. He just continues to lose, although he never says no to a game.

He stands up and meets my eyes. “She’s been calling me.”

“Who?”

“Yvonne, you idiot.”

I frown. “Yvonne hates you.”