Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends #2) - Sara Ney Page 0,42
in here, she would probably poke holes in all of them.”
“Dramatic.”
“I know my mother—she’s a snake in the grass.”
“But you’d do anything for her, and that’s why I’m here—you wanted to show her that you are capable of having a relationship with someone normal.” The truth rolls off my tongue as if I’ve just discovered the cure for an incurable disease. It all makes sense now! The reason he bribed-slash-guilted me into coming! “So you dragged me here for this sham of a relationship to make her happy.”
Buzz grunts, and I can hear him rolling over. Punches his pillow a few times, displeased.
“It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone you’re a decent human bean.”
“I’m not a decent human being!” he disputes in a huff.
“I said bean, not being. Pay attention.”
The joke catches up to him, and from out of the dark, a pillow hits me in the thigh.
“Stop flirting,” I demand. I’m starting to really like you.
He stops flirting and I’m back to staring at the ceiling, frustrated by our lack of proximity.
Frustrated by my own game of running hot and cold with him; I wonder if he’s noticed. I wonder if it’s frustrating him, too. Why is he bothering with me at all? A million women would kill to be in this bedroom right now, and the poor bastard chooses the one woman who resists him at every turn.
Buzz Wallace doesn’t give a shit about my father and who he is; he hasn’t really asked about him once. He doesn’t give a shit about the silver spoon I had in my mouth growing up. He doesn’t give a shit about what kind of car I drive, how big his friends’ houses are, how—
Houses.
“Buzz?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you buy this house for your parents?”
He’s quiet a few heartbeats. “Why are you asking me that?”
“I’m wondering.” Many athletes do that for their folks, the people who make the sacrifices for their children’s success over their own.
More silence.
Then,
“Yes.”
My ovaries begin clenching from the injustice of it all. Why, God? Why! Why make the one man I want to resist so gosh darn irresistible? It’s all I can do not to shake my fist at the sky like a super weirdo.
“That’s…that was sweet of you.”
“I guess.” He sounds uncomfortable talking about it. “My brother and I went halvsies—well, I paid a thousand dollars more, so like…I paid more.” He sniffs, indignant. “Not that it matters, but I did.”
I chuckle. He is such a brat about his brother—it must have been hell for his mother raising those two.
I want to climb out of bed and join him on the floor, but what reasonable excuse do I have for going down where it’s uncomfortable and cold?
Not a one.
My brain goes around and around. My teeth? Dig into my bottom lip as I stew. Finally, I roll off the bed, dressed in nothing but my underwear, feeling my way around the bed to where I think Buzz is lying on the floor, with my pajama bottoms. Er, shorts.
I step on a body part and he yelps. “What the fuck! That was my ankle.”
Crap. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“What are you doing?”
“Can I have my pants back?”
13
Trace
“Can you have your pants back?” I feel around in the dark, hands blindly maneuvering their way along the carpet. It’s an itchy spot to be for the night, but the last thing I want is for Hollis to think I’m some pervert who cannot keep his hands to himself. I don’t need her to think I have no boundaries.
“You know—my shorts. The shorts.”
“Are you wearing clothes right now?”
“I told you—I’m wearing underwear.” Even in the dark, I can make out her silhouette, her outline backlit by the outside security lights. “What are you wearing?” She sounds like she’s talking to Jake from State Farm.
“Um…the same thing I had on when my mom so rudely turned off the lights.”
“Oh.” It sounds like she’s biting her lip. Sounds a bit disappointed, or maybe I’m imagining things. I have been down here for what seems like hours, exiled alone with no food, no water, no light source. Naked and afraid, almost. Minus the naked part.
“Here are your bottoms.” The shorts she was wearing are in my hand, clenched in my fist, and I hold them up as an offering. “Try not to crush my balls like you crush my dreams.” I can sort of see her getting closer, slowly—hesitantly—then lowering herself to her hands and knees. “Are you crawling?”