Page 93 of Trust Me

“Bullshit. You know I can see through you.”

“Then you should see there’s nothing happening. Anyway, what’s up with you?”

He walked into the living room and sat on the couch, spreading his arms across the back. “I’m bored.”

“Is that all?” I grabbed a pair of shorts and pulled them on under my towel before I dropped it. Sitting beside him, I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“You’ve been neglecting me. Not gaming as much. You don’t come by the bar as often.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I’ve been distracted.”

“By what?”

My gaze went to Dean’s door. “I don’t know.”

Silently, Dean left his room and returned to the kitchen. I wanted to check on him, but I knew it wasn’t necessary.

“Cole came by,” Remi said after a minute.

Sitting up, I turned to look at him. He was expressionless, but I could see the cracks in his easygoing façade.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Drinking with friends.”

“You didn’t talk to him, right?”

“I had to take his order.”

“No, you didn’t. You could’ve kicked him out. It’s your bar.”

He breathed a laugh, finally letting a smile through. “I love when you get overprotective, Oli.”

“I’ll get freaking feral if you entertain his nonsense one more time. He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “He looked damn good, though.”

“No.” I flicked his nose hard. “All venomous animals look pretty. Stay away from him.”

“Hey, I told you, right? Wouldn’t you say that means I’m being smart, holding myself accountable?”

“Or you were hoping I’d say something different.”

“Whatever. You win.”

“Hey, Oli?” Dean called from the kitchen. “Can you taste this?”

I wanted to tell him I’d taste whatever he asked me to. Instead, I gave Remi a look that told him I didn’t trust his judgment. That alone was an understatement.

I joined Dean in the kitchen and licked my lips. When his eyes fell to my chest, I stepped closer. Maybe I should’ve put on a shirt already. But then again, he might not look at me like that if I had, like he was hungry for something other than the meal.

I really needed to put chains on my imagination.

“You like spicy, right?” he asked, his voice a little gritty.

“Are you making assumptions? In that case, I’m surprised you do like spicy food.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’ve seen you order extra jalapenos on your Subway sandwich.”