Swing (Landry Family 2)

He smirks. “The asshole. Got it.”

“Yeah, and he was pretty excited about meeting you, although you denied you were you.”

“Ah, he’s a fanboy.”

“I don’t think so,” I laugh. “He’s a very prominent physician.”

“Doctors are fanboys. Trust me,” he winks. “Now, I asked if I could see you again.”

I look at anything but him. I don’t know what to say. Yes, he’s fun. And playful. And hot. And considerate and makes me get off like no one I’ve ever been with. But it won’t work. It can’t. I don’t want it to. “I need to think about it.”

His brows pull together. “And why is that?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“What do you want?” he asks, slipping his hands in the front pouch of his hoodie. “You want romanced? I’ll romance the shit out of you.”

I can’t help but laugh. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” He sounds genuinely concerned. Or curious. Maybe a mixture of both. “Someone really stuck it to you, didn’t they? Who was it?”

“No one. I just know how guys like you tick, and I’m not sure if I can handle it, if you want to know the truth.”

He strokes his chin, watching me with a narrowed gaze. All I can do is think about what that scruff would feel like between my legs.

“Did he play baseball? Football? Oh, God, don’t tell me you were in love with a basketball player!”

“Landry!” I laugh.

“He did play basketball, didn’t he? Geez, Dani, I had you figured to be smarter than that.”

Opening the door to my car, I stick my keys in the ignition. “He didn’t play basketball. I don’t even like basketball.”

“Thank fuck,” he sighs. “But there was someone.”

“I didn’t say that exactly.”

“He’s not an Arrow, is he?”

“Why?”

“It’s a yes or no kind of question, Dani.”

I laugh, unable to stop from smiling at this ridiculously handsome man questioning me. I should be annoyed, but I’m not. I just want to kiss him again, which is exactly why I can’t. “No. He isn’t an Arrow.”

He blows out a breath. “Good. That would’ve been awkward.”

“How do you figure?” I ask.

“It’s like dating your best friend’s girl. You don’t do it.”

“Um, we aren’t dating.”

“What a terrible thing to point out.” He leans forward, one hand on my car. “We should fix that, don’t you think?”

“No,” I reply adamantly, hoping to convince the both of us.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “You aren’t even mean to me anymore. I’m wearing you down. I can tell.”