Page 13 of Scoring Eden

“Nah, I’m not one for bestiality.”

Her eye roll is instantaneous. She doesn’t even giggle. Oh, come on, Eden, give me something.

She finishes her drink, her brow crinkling with the realization that she no longer has an excuse not to talk to me. “So…” She looks around at anything other than me. “Have you got any plans after this?”

My heart leaps. “Was that a pickup line?”

“Wh–” she stutters, eyes bulging to twice their size. “No.” She’s unlike any woman I’ve tried to pick up before. Usually, it only takes a wink and an innuendo to have them leaving with me. Eden, however, appears to be having a stroke.

“You literally just gave me the line dudes use when they’re trying to take a girl home,” I point out.

Something dark falls over her features. Murderous intent, I’d say, if I had to wager a guess. It’s hot. I like it.

“Why would you ask if you already know what it is?”

“So you’re confirming it was a line?” I smirk. “Interesting.”

“No. Christ, I—” She cuts herself off, pinching the bridge of her nose with a groan. “It is exhausting to talk to you.”

I want to exhaust her in other ways. I want to touch her…and not even all the good parts—though, I do want to touch those too—but just her hand, or hair, or something. That’s disconcerting. I can’t remember the last time I held someone’s hand or even felt the urge to.

But she smells like cherries, and she looks so cute when she’s pissed off with me that I just want to pet her.

My smile widens. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You find me mentally stimulating.”

“Alex,” she groans, looking to the window with longing, as if dreaming of throwing herself out of it. That’s…not a great sign. “Your arrogance is astounding.”

“Confidence,” I correct.

“Arrogance. Look, I’m waiting for my sister to come back from the bathroom, and then I think I’m going to head home.”

I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Because there was no coy nod of her head toward the exit, no flirty touch to my arm, or any suggestion of an invitation to accompany her at all.

She’s leaving…and evidently, without me.

Disappointment sinks heavy in my heart, followed by something that feels like inadequacy. What the fuck? I’ve never felt inadequate. But then, I’ve also never been rejected or faced any sort of pushback at all.

Is this what the guys feel like? I’ll have to ask them. They have far more experience with this than I do.

“Hey.” A woman bounds up beside Eden and rests her hand on her shoulder. Her sister, I assume. “Sorry I took so long. There was a huge line for the bathroom. I even considered using the men’s, but then I figured I probably wouldn’t be able to get the angle of the urinal right, and I didn’t want to risk getting pee down the backs of my legs, y’know?”

I clock the newcomer’s cow-print top and bell bottoms. “Hey, you’re the girl who did the karaoke earlier!” I give her a slow clap. “Fabulous rendition. Better than the original.”

She takes a bow then looks back to Eden. “Who is this man?”

“Alex Wolfe.” I stretch my hand out toward her. “I’ve been trying to win over Eden with my boyish charm and dazzling good looks since one-thirty this afternoon, but I’m clearly doing something wrong. Tell me, in your sisterly opinion, do you think I have a shot?”

I hear Eden’s squeak of surprise over the thudding bass of the music and laugh to myself when she staggers back, having to catch herself on the sharp, silver edge of the pinball machine. Her cheeks flame, and she presses her empty glass to one of them as if to cool it down.

“Aspen Miller.” Eden’s sister takes my hand and shakes it. Vigorously. Her eyes turn to slits in a way that is more intimidating than it should be, considering she can’t be taller than five foot four. “It depends. What are your intentions with my sister?”

I let my dimples show. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Which isn’t a lie. If this conversation has taught me anything, it’s that Eden is not of the disposition to be down for just one night. And I only do one-night stands. I’m not a man suited for long-term relationships, or love, or the terrifying concept of commitment. It isn’t within the realms of my capabilities. Invariably, my dick is disappointed by the fact that I won’t be taking her home tonight, but I respect it. You know why? Because I’m not a fucking loser who pushes until a woman says yes.