The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,20

went on. “You were just so good at, well, everything. I mean, what do you expect? I can’t be blamed for what I said in the heat of the moment. At least, that’s what Charlie said. Right?”

“What did you say exactly?”

She gave me a look, realizing I was playing with her.

“What? I’m just a dumb jock. I can’t remember.”

“Archer.”

I felt the corner of my mouth tip up. “No, that’s what you should have said.”

“Ugh.” Honor raised her hands. “Can’t we just pretend like it never happened? I’d be okay with that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” I said seriously. “If you think for a second I want to forget what happened between us, you’re dead wrong. That was one of the best nights of my life.”

“It was?” she said.

“Yeah.” I reached up, catching a strand of her hair that’d escaped, and tucked it behind her ear. Her shiver felt like hitting a homerun with all the bases loaded.

“Even after I said Baylor instead of your name?” she said quietly, and I closed my eyes.

That memory would haunt me the rest of my days—or until I replaced it with a new one.

When I re-opened them, she was watching me closely. “Even then,” I said. “But that’s gotta be the worst case of mistaken identity ever.”

Honor winced. “Seriously Archer, I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I really am sorry.”

“Keep saying my name,” I said and watched her blush reappear, pink spreading all over her cheeks. “I like the way it sounds coming from your lips.”

“Okay…” she said softly.

“And I hope I’ve made enough of an impression that you’ll remember who you’re with next time. Speaking of which…you want to go out?”

Her eyes widened. “Did you just ask me for a date?”

“Yeah,” I said, pushing my hands into my pockets. “So are you in?”

“This is so easy for you; isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Being charming and laid back and sexy.”

I smiled. “You think I’m sexy? Good to know.”

“But don’t you see? That’s exactly why this thing”—she gestured between the two of us—”can’t go any further.”

I frowned. “Sorry, you lost me.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said, crossing her arms, bringing my attention to her sweet curves, but I fought to stay focused.

“And why is that?”

“I thought it would be obvious.”

I tapped the side of my head. “Dumb jock, remember? I have trouble understanding complex concepts and theories. Just put it out there, so I can prove you wrong.”

She sighed then seemed to gather herself.

“Archer,” she said, “you’re a super talented, athletic, quick-witted-possibly-devious man.”

“And sexy. Don’t forget the sexy.” I nodded. “Continue.”

“You’re confident, and judging by our night together, you seem experienced.” Her cheeks went red again, and I counted that as a win until she added, “You’ve probably had a ton of women.”

“I wouldn’t say a ton.”

“And I’m…me,” she finished. “Just an introverted bookworm, who’d never been to a college party before last weekend, one who was desperate enough to ask you, a complete stranger, to be my one-night stand. I read romance novels. But that’s as racy as it gets with me.”

She finally took a breath, and I waited until she met my eyes.

“You done?” I said. “Because the only thing I heard are excuses.”

“But—”

“Honor, you didn’t say you don’t like me.”

“I—”

I held up a hand. “And you didn’t say you didn’t want to go. In that case, I’d take your refusal and go lick my wounds in private.”

She laughed suddenly. “I don’t get it. You should be the one who doesn’t want anything to do with me. I thought you were a player, and I approached you to…to use you as my one wild hookup. Ugh, I’m awful.”

“I’m not complaining,” I said, taking a step closer. “And if you still want that one-night stand, I volunteer as tribute.”

Honor’s face was a mixture of disbelief and delight.

“What? You think jocks don’t read,” I said. “I devoured the Hunger Games the same as everybody else. I’m a Slytherin, too, in case you’re interested. Majoring in Sports Sciences with a minor in English. We have an aunt who’s a big book collector, got most of us kids into reading when we were young. Which reminds me, I still have your book. You should agree to go out with me to make sure it gets back to you safely.”

She shook her head. “You are such a surprise.”

“That depends.” I shrugged. “Do you like surprises?”

“Not usually,” she said. “Only if they’re the good kind.”

“What am I? Good or bad?”

“Oh, definitely good.”

“Okay, then you’ll

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