falter at my insistence. “Since I’m in town, a few acquaintances invited me out for drinks.”
“There are people who agree to voluntarily hang out with you?” I let my mouth drop open. “On purpose?”
“Vannah,” Clea scolds.
I glare at her. “Are you serious right now?”
“He’s being nice. You said nice guys—”
I point at her. “Don’t finish that sentence. This man doesn’t fit into that category.”
“He can’t be that bad,” she protests.
Landon sighs, the sound wistful. “She’s right, I’m afraid. I’m willing to change, though. Do you believe that’s possible?”
“A reformed bad boy,” Presley murmurs to Clea.
I want to bang my head on the table. These two need to get out more. Landon gets a glare from me. “No chance. You’re irredeemable.”
“I’d still like to try.” He ghosts a knuckle along my cheek.
With a gasp, I jolt away from him. The area he touched has a noticeable tingle. Good thing I pulled away before he could burn me. “What’re you doing?”
He leans in until his shoulder brushes mine. “I already told you. There are changes to be made.”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“Not really, but I can be patient.” His cocky smirk morphs into a full grin. The sight would be something to behold if he wasn’t such a bastard.
I buckle down on my reinforcements. This is Landon Winters I’m dealing with. “Are you flirting with me?”
“That depends on if you’re interested.”
“No.” There isn’t enough conviction in my tone to fool a gullible teenager, let alone Landon.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
I cross my arms with a huff. “I’m merely curious about the true purpose behind this.”
“We could make a good team.” His throat bobs with a thick swallow. “I’m prepared to admit that you have the potential to make me a better man.”
My friends coo over his response. Clea is sporting a dopey grin. “That’s kinda sweet.”
“This isn’t a romance novel. He’s just spewing crap and hoping it sticks.” I flail a hand toward them. “Don’t listen to this drivel.”
Her smile disappears when she looks at me. “Remember what we said about being jaded, Van.”
Landon tips a nod at her. “I like you.”
“That’s… nice.” She doesn’t appear convinced. Not completely, at least. “I’m still trying to decide if I should defend you.”
“I’ll provide an exceptional character reference.”
The urge to flick his earlobe is fierce. “You can’t turn my friends against me.”
A challenge glitters in his gaze. “No? That’s a pity.”
“We can at least listen to his voice whisper sweet nothings to you.” That extremely unhelpful suggestion comes from Presley.
“Yeah, it’s not like you have to accept his advances or anything.” Clea wags her brows.
I cut them a sharp look. “Worst wing-women ever.”
Landon slinks lower until my bent knee touches his thigh. “Don’t blame them for taking a neutral stance. They’re choosing to remain optimistic.”
“With anyone except you, their efforts would be greatly appreciated.” I glare at the traitors across from us.
Presley and Clea don’t look the least bit guilty as they watch us bicker.
“I can be a decent guy for you.” His vow might as well be etched in sand on the shoreline with a roaring tide rolling in.
Another disgruntled noise escapes me. “That’s not suspicious or anything.”
He twirls a section of my hair around his finger. “I don’t blame you for being skeptical. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”
My stomach flips and I cringe. I dislodge him with a tug. “Knock it off.”
Landon doesn’t retreat from my personal space. “Why deny what I want?”
“I don’t expect you will, which is why you’re resorting to more extreme measures. It’s all about claiming victory for you.”
“We could both win this way.” He makes that offer seem like it’s a legitimate option.
“By having sex?” I bat my lashes at him.
A lazy shrug draws him marginally closer. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Since when do you care about what I want?” My defenses rise with a creak.
“New beginnings, Savannah.” A devious glint reflects in his eyes. Landon is planning something, and that knowledge kicks my own plotting into high gear. I’m not giving him the chance to attack. He doesn’t get to stomp on my turf without repercussions.
“New strategies, you mean.”
“Am I being too forward?”
“You’re being too obvious,” I correct.
He lowers his gaze, tracing a pattern on the wooden table. “Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”
A snort spits from my flaring nostrils. His acting skills have room for improvement. Maybe I should send Sasha in for another round. “You’re only doing this to get back