Page 83 of Crash Course
"Every time I turn around," he said, "there’s someone there. Before, it was just Mom and Grams and my brothers. We were used to each other. Now? We keep adding personalities. Female personalities who don’t appreciate how a bunch of guys talk to each other. I’m constantly on alert, always watching what I say."
"Ugh," Cilla groaned. "Exhausting. It’s like prepping for trial. I have to craft my openings, my questions, my closings, just so. I go over and over and over it. It can be maddening."
He peered down at her, meeting her gaze under a moonlit sky. "Where the hell haveyoubeen all my life?"
At that, she grinned. "You stole my line." She snuggled closer, brought her hand up, resting it on his chest.
That was kinda nice. Just . . . casual. Relaxed.
"Would your family be upset if you moved out?"
Thinking about that made his dinner tumble inside his belly. "Probably. Ash did it. Hell, he left BARS altogether. I love working for BARS, so I’m not going anywhere on that front."
Opening her hand, she drummed her fingers against his chest, lighting something up inside him and sending the little brain below his waist thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking.
Things like ditching their clothes, rolling her to her back and . . .
"So," she said, "you’re going with the argument that it’s not as bad as Ash?"
"Bet your sweet ass. Wouldn’t be the first time one of us has thrown the other under a bus."
She cracked up. Just let out a belly laugh that warmed him right to his goddamned soul.
"You’ve got a great laugh," he said.
"Thanks. Haven’t used it a lot lately. Feels good."
She snuggled closer. Leaned her cheek against his chest and ran her hand over his stomach. And, uh-oh, if she kept that up . . .
He cleared his throat and gently set his hand on top of hers, stopping her exploration.
"I like you," she said. "A lot. I like kissing you and talking to you and lying in an open field together on a cold night while staring at stars."
"All good things."
"They are. And something I’m not used to. But you have to know what you’re getting into with me. My father can be aggressive. I can figure out how to limit his access, how to find some balance, but he’s part of the package. And now, with him being so mad at me, we may be at war with each other. Who knows how he’ll behave. Are you up for that?"
Cilla waitedfor the answer she desperately wanted, but probably wouldn’t hear. Cruz Blackwell was a total catch. A stud among studs.
Why would he subject himself to the drama that came with Darren Randolph?
Maybe for me.
Barely knowing each other, did she have the right to ask that?
Moonlight shined down, spraying silvery highlights across his dark curly hair that hung nearly to his shoulders and gave him an almost angelic quality.
Cruz might not be an angel in the traditional sense, but he might behers.
The thought alone was a minor miracle, since the implosion of her parents’ relationship had destroyed any chance of Cilla being a romantic. The whole dating thing irritated her. Too much thinking. Too much questioning. None of it natural the way she wanted to believe falling in love should be.
Right now, looking at Cruz gave her . . . what? Peace? Hope?
No.
Faith.
Dammit, she might be a romantic after all.
