Page 54 of Match Me if You Can

“Thanks.” It’s a genuine smile this time, sex kitten tucked away.

And that’s almost worse.

Because a few seconds ago, she was playing a role.

Now, she’s giving my brother a glimpse of real.

Scowling, I tug her out of his hold, feeling a bit like a dick. “Half of your giant ass suitcase is shoes, princess.” I lean in and inhale the scent of her—flowers and woman, with something fruity, maybe from the massage oil at the spa. “You’re telling me you don’t have a single pair of sneakers in there?”

“Sneakers or not”—her chin comes up—“I’m not playing.”

“No?” I ask, lips brushing along her ear.

“No,” she says, chin lifting further.

“Why?” I press, not sure why I’m pushing this.

I don’t give a fuck if she plays football with me.

But right in this moment, it feels like if I don’t get her to agree to this one small thing with her, I won’t get her to agree to anything.

She whips her head around, glaring at me. “Why?” She waves a hand at my brothers and dad, just now all finding their feet. “Did you not just get crushed in the end zone, Ace? I just got a massage and my nails done, I’d like to ride the wave of relaxation.”

“She’s scared.”

I would have expected it to come from Beck or Oakes or Lex.

Or my dad.

Instead, it comes from Noble.

“Excuse me?” she says coolly, fixing him in place with a look so frosty he should freeze on the spot.

His lips twitch. “You heard me.” A beat. “Princess.”

Right.

This was a horrible idea.