Page 26 of The Knockout Rule

Her face puckered, then she laughed. “Wow. You really do excel at dumb jokes.”

Where he might have tensed at any association with the word dumb, he was past that point with Isla, knew she was only teasing. Amused, he stepped over her outstretched legs, nudged her arm away, and sat beside her, coming flush with her side. It was either that or cozy-up to the man at his left wearing a mesh crop top. “At least one of us has a sense of humor.”

She lifted her face to the sun. “Don’t go getting cocky on me.”

“Oh, this isn’t cocky. My mastery of dumb jokes is fact.”

“Two jokes is barely a scientific study.”

They weren’t, but he latched onto her mention of science. “Why can’t you trust atoms?”

“I don’t know, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

“Because they make up everything.”

She made a cute snorting sound. “Is there a heavyweight belt in stupid jokes? You could totally win.”

“Mom always said I was a natural.” The mesh-wearing guy at his left pushed closer, giving someone on his other side room. Without anywhere to go, Eric slid his arm around Isla’s back, planted his palm on the stone at her right, shifting even closer to her. “Sorry,” he murmured. But he wasn’t. He liked being this close to her, feeling her body shake with laughter.

She tensed a beat, then softened, leaning more fully into him. “Your niece and nephew must love you.”

“Not as much as I love them, which is why I’m out here in the madness getting assaulted by limes. Finding cute gifts isn’t easy.”

“If all else fails, I got a flyer for an adult-only store. They sell fuzzy pink penises. You could pass them off as stuffed toys.”

“And invite child services to my house when the twins bring them to school for show-and-tell? I’ll pass.” But his thighs flexed. The word penis coming from Isla’s lips did things to him. Knotted up his stomach, made him wrap his arm more firmly around her back.

She tilted her head back, sunshine spilling over her sunglasses and smooth skin. “I could help you find something kid-friendly, if you want. Under one condition.”

He wouldn’t mind the help, but that would mean standing up, losing the heat of her pressed into his side. He didn’t remember the last time he was out like this, with a woman or a friend, just hanging out for the sake of hanging out. “If your condition’s another joke request, the answer’s no. My limit’s three an hour.”

“Don’t limit yourself, Kramarovsky, or you’ll never win that Stupid Joke heavyweight title you’ve been training for.”

“Is that why you’re sassing me? Is there a Sass heavyweight title, too?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, chin tipped up. “You haven’t seen my sass.”

He’d sure as hell like to see her sass, couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed feeling it bumped up against his on the hot stone ledge. He also liked hearing her laugh. “Where do animals go when their tails fall off?”

She scrunched her face like that gross lime wedge had fallen on her head. “First toilet humor, now gruesome horror stories.”

“Is that the sass of which you speak?”

“We’ve barely gotten started on my sass.”

It felt like they’d gotten started on something, though. Fun banter. Sunshine on his face. Fountain water splashing behind them. Isla loose and happy, practically in his arms. Nothing about this happenstance chat was romantic. They were colleagues and friends, who’d randomly bumped into each other, but being this close to her, his body reacting when she moved, his smile so constant his cheeks hurt—this was how relationships began, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Preston was into Isla. Eric had helped hook them up with poetry. He had no clue if Preston had used the romantic passage, or if his manager had asked Isla on a date. Not that any of it mattered when Isla hated boxers.

Jokes, though. They were simple. He could do jokes: where do animals go when their tails fall off. “They go to the retail store.”

“Oh my God.” She downright cackled this time. The kind of laughter that had her doubling over, pushing into him as her shoulders shook. She braced her hand on his thigh. At the touch, heat fisted his groin; his heart pounded against his ribs.

She wiped at her eyes. “I need one of those jokes every physio session. They’re so awful, they’re good. But hearing your stupid jokes wasn’t my stipulation. I’ll help you gift shop for your niece and nephew if we get ice cream on the way.”

“I can’t eat ice cream.” He didn’t want to move either. Not even a little.

“Are you lactose intolerant?”

“Strict diet.”