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Sometime later, his mind awoke, not aware of when he’d fallen asleep. Something soft tickled his nose and he opened his eyes only to find his body wrapped tightly around warm, soft?—
His eyes flung open and he stilled. Erin slept in his arms, soft and delicate. Her hands balled under her cheek and her face blank of expression. She was so close he could count the individual eyelashes fanning over her cheekbones.
His body hardened and he swallowed. He didn’t want to move, but her legs were coiled around his. He wondered if she ever put panties on under that shirt.
Needing a distraction, he eyed the dark bruise on her cheek. What would have left such a mark? The airbags hadn’t gone off. Did she slam her face on the steering wheel?
A soft moan left her throat and she gently rolled to her other side, pressing her butt against his groin and nestling into his heat. His eyes widened, as did his cock. This wasn’t good.
He should not be getting hard for Erin Montgomery. She was rotten to the core, meaner than a rattle snake, and as cold and cutting as a scorpion.
Or was she?
Over the last twenty-four hours, his opinion wasn’t as solid as it had been for the last two decades of knowing her. No, he was confused and horny, that was all. This was how the dumbass frog died in that fable about the scorpion. No matter what sort of softness he thought he saw, it was her nature to be mean to everyone. He was no exception. And she’d sting him at the first opportunity.
Her head lulled against his arm and a feminine moan met his ears. Then her eyes opened and she stared over her shoulder at him. Confusion flashed in her eyes.
She rolled away from him, sinking deeper into the pillows and keeping her eyes on him. “Sorry…I fell asleep.”
“It’s cool.” He didn’t move, fearful if he shifted position, she might notice his hard-on.
She slipped off the bed and he caught a glimpse of her thigh and the soft moon of her ass cheek as the shirt fell into place. The bathroom door hung open and he squinted at the flash of skin peeking through the crack. A minute later the faucet ran and she returned to the bed, sitting along the headboard.
He remained on his side, like a boner-shamed teen. This wasn’t normal for him and he didn’t understand why his body was reacting in such a juvenile way. He didn’t even like Erin. Not to mention, she had this whole history with his cousin Finn.
He thought back to when she and Finn dated, trying to recall the details of their breakup. Rather than give himself a headache stretching too far down memory lane, he blurted, “Why did you and Finn break up?”
Erin paused, then slowly popped a pretzel stick into her mouth. “He got married.”
“Yeah, but that’s not why you broke up. Finn started dating Mallory after you guys were through.”
“Were we?” she challenged, a snide drollness to her voice.
His mouth hooked in a half-grin and he rolled to his chest looking up at her. “You don’t like Finn’s wife.” This was the small town gossip he lived for.
“I don’t have a problem with her.”
“Liar,” he grinned. “I can see it in your eyes. You hate her.”
“Hate’s a strong word.” She bit another pretzel. “But what kind of girl goes by the nickname Philly? What is she, a horse?”
He chuckled and made a sharp meow sound. “He doesn’t call her Philly as in a horse. It’s because she’s from Philadelphia.”
“Oh. Well, it’s stupid.”
Another chuckle and he snatched the pretzel out of her hand. “You sound jealous.”
“Hardly. I broke things off with him.”
“If I recall, you got a little handsy with the locals.”
Her lips formed a flat line and something shuttered in her expression. “I did a lot of things I regret.”
He didn’t want her to get sad again. He wanted to joke around and pass the time. “Like Bran Dawson?”
She threw a pretzel stick at his head. He picked it up and ate it. “Shut up.”
Grinning when he caught a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes. “Nothing wrong with dating. It’s the only way to figure out what you like. Everyone has to date at least one loser.”
