Bad Cruz: A Reverse Grumpy/Sunshine Romance

I’d always had a thing for Tennessee Turner.

From the moment I first saw her at the nursery, wobbling along, delivering a clean and confident smack to the back of the head of another toddler to snatch away a rag doll, I knew this girl was special.

Actually, if I was going to be petty (and I was definitely not going to be petty), I was the one who was supposed to ask her out between Rob and me. As I mentioned, we rock-paper-scissored it, and my paper wrapped his rock.

But he smashed my chance, anyway.

Straight up crapped all over the bro code and asked the pretty blonde out.

Was I pissed? Yes.

Did I punch his face? Also yes.

Did I hate Tennessee Turner for accepting his offer for an ice cream and vow to ignore her existence from that moment on? I plead the fifth.

See? Not bitter at all.

Now I was in the shower of our stateroom while Tennessee was probably building a pillow fort and hiding behind it to avoid me while my cock wept tears of cum onto the tiles as I remembered how she tasted in the maintenance room.

Thanks to Dalton and his big veneered mouth.

If one good thing came out of it—and I was really struggling to find the silver lining here—it was that I had the chance to clear the air and explain to her that I did not, in fact, try to mess around with her that Fourth of July.

I could tell from Tennessee’s reaction today that she would have said yes, had I asked her out like a decent human being. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about Tennessee and me in an alternate universe, screwing like bunnies three times a day.

I’d have given her a job as my secretary or something. We’d have had date nights and I’d have taken her to black-tie events and verbally sparred with her the entire way there.

I still couldn’t believe the woman was practically a virgin.

She’d had sex one time her entire life.

The craziest thing was, I knew she hadn’t had anyone go down on her or given any head, because Rob used to give us detailed reports of their doings before he hit the home run.

Let’s just say there was a lot of tit-sucking and fingering, but nothing else. Which I had to admit, gave Tennessee the gleam of an unexplored land, wild and unmapped, waiting to be discovered.

Unfortunately, it seemed like she wouldn’t let me get anywhere near her, ironically after finding out that I hadn’t sexually harassed her.

I always thought I had a pretty decent grasp of what women wanted, but apparently I’d been wrong, because I hadn’t the greenest clue what Tennessee Turner needed or craved.

All I knew was that if it was a relationship she wanted, my parents were going to kill themselves, and then Wyatt was going to off me and run with the inheritance money.

At twenty-six, I’d been fresh out of med school, new to adulthood and real life. My parents had been so happy to have me back in town, they’d have accepted a farm animal for a potential daughter-in-law, anything to make me stick around.

Now, they had all kinds of ideas.

I’d held back on marriage for far too long. They weren’t going to be happy with anyone less than a Windsor.

And it wasn’t just them.

I had my own reputation to think of.

Being with Tennessee was going to ruin everything I’d built since I’d come back. My reputation, social standing, thriving business, and steady deliveries of homemade pies by grateful clients.

…so why can’t I give a damn about any of those things?

I turned off the faucet, wrapped a towel around my waist ,and stepped out of the bathroom. I found Tennessee flung on our bed, wearing one of the shirts I’d bought for her earlier today, makeup-free and edible to a fault.

She played with a tendril of her blonde hair, looking thoughtful as she peered up at me.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Hardly.”

“I thought you weren’t into puns.”

“I have my moments.” I advanced toward our shared closet, tugging out a pair of briefs. I noticed her pillow fort was not in place yet. “Fair warning—I sleep in my underwear, so if that’s a problem…”

“It’s not a problem,” she replied quickly, turning scarlet everywhere visible. “Actually…”

I turned around almost violently, searching her face.

“Yes?”

Eager much, asshole?

“I was wondering…” She drew a circle with her finger on her thigh. “If you could teach me how to make out with a guy. Sorry I freaked out on you earlier. I’m pretty much out of my depth when it comes to the opposite sex. I know we don’t have much time here, but I think you’re right. It’d be nice to get the best out of the situation, seeing as we both know we don’t have any future together and this thing stops as soon as we go back home.”

I yanked the briefs up my legs under my towel. It was an ambitious move, but I’d seen women do something similar with their bras and shirts.

“No one at home can find out,” I clipped, feeling like an asshole, and no doubt sounding like one, too.

In my defense, I’d been so thoroughly rejected by her since age seventeen, I didn’t want to lose one iota of my charmed quality of life for the pleasure of having her as a fling.

“I know.” Tennessee sat up straighter in bed. “Trust me, my parents and sister would kill me a hundred times over if they find out I touched a hair on your golden head. Plus, I’m super damaged. There’s no way I could handle a relationship. I have a lot to lose, too.”

“And then there’s Rob,” I added, dropping the towel and advancing toward the bed, my junk safely covered by the briefs.

There was no way I was letting Gussman think I’d been pining for his ex-girlfriend for decades. That a small, awful part of me had been glad that he’d screwed off the way he had, because that meant she’d never take him back.

And now he was back and what the fuck did that mean for all of this?

“Yeah. Some friend you are.” Tennessee let out a throaty, sexy laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell your buddy you’ve sampled my goods.”

She thought I was doing it out of loyalty to him. Well, the real reason—my fragile ego—wasn’t going to win me any personality points, so I decided to keep it to myself.

“Right,” I said, sliding under the covers.

A fresh rush of desire ran through my veins as my body found hers under the blanket. She looked so young without all the makeup and hairspray, I could almost imagine us as teenagers.

My cock, which had absolutely zero business getting up again not even ten minutes after I masturbated, already poked at her stomach between us, lazily swinging itself from side to side as it tried to catch her attention like an eager puppy.

“Holy cheat-balls. That thing’s huge.”

She touched my crown with the tip of her finger through my briefs, before jerking her hand away, like it was going to clamp its jaws on her.

“Seriously, you can put it on a leash and take it for a walk downtown.”

“Don’t you dare make another Weiner joke,” I warned, playing with the hem of her shirt for no reason at all other than the obvious—I had fondling privileges today.

“That thing has a mind of its own.” She lifted a speculative eyebrow, looking down between us. “Can I touch it again?”

You can take it home, put it in an aquarium, and call it Sally if it makes you happy.

“Absolutely. You can pet it, too. Squeeze. Lick. Suck. Fondle. It doesn’t bite, but it does occasionally spit. I’ll give you a heads-up before it does.”

She looked up at me excitedly, her eyes zinging with exhilaration. “There was a pun there, Dr. Cruz. Good job.”

She just talked to me like I was her preschool student.

…and I just plastered a goofy smile on, also like a preschool student.

Her long, pointy fingernails ran down my six-pack to my briefs, making my skin prickle deliciously. She slipped her hand into the fly, jerking my erect cock out like it was a chicken that was about to become her lunch.

I didn’t comment on the lack of finesse. Didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious.

She stroked it gently, mesmerized by it.

She was so fucking beautiful I didn’t know what to do with myself. Having her touch my dick after fourteen years of imagining it happening, did weird things to my chest.

“Is it good for you?” she murmured.

“It was good about three minutes ago, when you were sitting on the bed, simply existing. Now that you’re touching my dick, we are deep into divine territory, spiraling onward.”

I watched her intently.

She flipped the covers off of us so she could take a better look at my dick. She shifted and sat up straight as she played with it, her yellow hair falling across her face like glittering sunrays.

My cock grew more engorged and heavy in her hand. That bastard had its own pulse at this point.

“I’m going to lick it now.”

“Please,” I grumbled, my voice breaking mid-word.

I didn’t even care.

The things I was willing to do in that moment to get her mouth to touch my dick worried me, frankly. Let’s just say Mrs. Warren wasn’t safe from a violent and quick death if Tennessee said the word.

Speaking of the wonderful state, the girl who was named after it lowered her head, holding my cock still as she gave the crown a quick lick.

Stars burst across my vision. I caressed her hair as gently as humanly possible to encourage her. She lowered herself again, her tongue swirling around the crown.

“I’m doing it wrong.” She looked up at me, biting on the side of her lip.

“Sweetheart, even if you danced around it to try to make it rain, it’d still be perfect.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen enough porn. I just…it’s so big.”

“You don’t have to take the entire thing in. Cover the base with your hand.”

I shepherded her by the wrist, draping her small fist around the root of my shaft. This was so high school, and I was so into it I seriously suspected I’d just unveiled an unexpected kink of mine.

Things had become so boring in bed recently, the Gabriellas and Karens of the world blurring together in a mix of wannabe-porn stars who sought to prove to me that they were the chosen ones, the woman I couldn’t do without.

It never occurred to me that the one I was actually fantasizing about was a woman not acting her way into looking like a pro. A woman who was engrossed in the moment, fully present for the pleasure of it instead of faking it to turn me on.

Refreshing.

Tennessee leaned down, taking some of my cock into her mouth. She gave it a thorough suck before bobbing her head hesitantly to perform oral sex.

As far as giving head went, she had a long way to go, but just the sight of her doing it threw me close to the edge. I was about to come, sitting on this strange bed, watching her suck me off.

Also, I couldn’t stop stroking her hair.

My cock jerked in her mouth, and it was becoming more and more clear I was about to blow my load after three seconds.

“Sweetheart, let me make it good for you, too.” My voice was so thick, it sounded like I’d swallowed a football.

She looked up, a little perplexed.

“It’s not good for you, is it?”

“No. No. It’s great.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She was still holding my dick—hostage, some would say—which wasn’t the best way a man wanted to negotiate his position.

“No problem. You can continue doing what you’re doing.”

“No, tell me.”

“Fine. If you don’t stop sucking my cock, I’m going to come all over that nice oversized shirt of yours, and since it’s new, and since I’m over thirteen, I would very much like it to not happen.”

“Oh.”

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I did. So what else can we do? Now that I’ve learned how to give head.”

She didn’t really know how to give head, but I wasn’t going to correct her. For one thing, it was rude and disheartening. For another, I was already setting up the guy who’d come after me for an awkward conversation, if not complete failure.

I hoped she’d dump him.

Actually, I hoped he’d die before he had the chance to meet her.

I obviously needed therapy.

“There’s a lot we can explore,” I murmured, pushing her backward.

Her head fell on the pillow. I laced my fingers through hers from both sides, pinning her down to the bed, my lips fluttering over her neck.

“Can you do some bodice-ripping?” Tennessee blurted out eagerly, like a schoolgirl at her first theme park outing. “Or maybe just shirt-ripping? Any kind of ripping would be good, to be honest. I’ve always been such a fan of the whole guy-tearing-a-woman’s-clothes in books.”

“Honey, consider it my contribution to society to destroy your clothes.”

With that, I grabbed the collar of the shirt I’d purchased earlier and ripped it in one smooth movement, her perfect, round breasts popping out in front of me. Pear-shaped, with nipples the color of flamingos.

I crashed my mouth over hers, breathless.

My brain still couldn’t comprehend that this was happening. She bucked her hips toward me, moaning, and I moved my lips to kiss her tits, lick around her nipples, dip my tongue into her navel.

“I’m so mad,” she groaned, as I rubbed my stubble all over her inner thighs. “All this time I could’ve enjoyed all of these things without having sex with anyone. What a waste.”

I bit her inner thigh, shooting my arm up to squeeze one of her tits in warning.

“Not all hookups were born equal.”

“No blip, Costello. You think Rob held a candle to what’s happening here the eight months I was with him?” She laughed softly.

My hard-on lowered to a semi just from hearing his name. A cool feeling washed over me, like someone threw a bucket of ice into my gut. I pushed through it, but it was the first time I found Tennessee to be less than absolutely delightful.

Bringing up an ex in bed was a dick move. I didn’t care how inexperienced she was. She wasn’t dumb. She was just so used to fucking up relationships, she didn’t care what came out of her mouth.

Rob’s mention did give the desired result of pissing me off, and so I ripped her underwear from her waist with little regard to the fact they snapped over her skin in the process.

She groused but immediately angled her hips toward my mouth, chasing my tongue.

I pressed my palm against her pussy, lowering her ass back to the mattress, looking up, my eyes meeting hers.

“A few ground rules, Turner.”

She blinked at me rapidly, waiting.

“No ex-talk in this bed. That’s not sporting.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry.”

“If something gets too much, just say the word.”

“What word?”

I almost forgot she was the most literal geek in the whole, entire world. With her undiagnosed ADHD and puns and aversion to profanity. I thought about it for a moment.

“Banana.”

“All right.”

“And promise me one thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I won’t fall in love with you.”

My chest tensed, but I threw her an offhand smirk.

“Cute, but what you choose to do with our mutual attraction is none of my business. You’re a big girl. No. I want you to promise me you know I will not let you get pregnant, so don’t worry about it. Just let me make it good for you.”

She hesitated, her eyebrows pinching together.

“I don’t—”

I shook my head. “I’m not Rob.”

“You just said no ex-talk in bed.”

“This trumps all the rules. I’m not him. I’ll never do that to you. Or to myself. Or to our hypothetical baby. Trust me that much, at least?”

She gulped, her eyes dancing in their sockets. I could tell when it happened. When she decided to put her trust in my hands. To let go.

Her hazel eyes shone, and her lower lip trembled.

“Yeah,” she rasped. “Promise.”

“Good girl.”

I sucked her entire pussy into my mouth.

She whimpered and sank her fingernails into my skull, so deep I could almost feel them digging into my brain.

I made her finish first, got another orgasm out of it—because I was that kind of gentleman—then ascended over her body, dropping kisses and bites along her skin as I glided one finger in and out of her, pressing my hot, swollen erection against her stomach.

I filled her mouth with my tongue again and every inch of her skin was chasing mine.

“I’m going to get a condom now, sweetheart. I’ll put it on, then I’ll make sure to pull out before I come, too, okay? I’ll do both. I promise.”

I would promise her my whole house, newly mortgage-free, if she said yes. So I made sure to highlight how much I was going to be careful about it.

She shook her head, still kissing me. “No, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that.”

Anything?

I wasn’t bastard enough to suggest anal, although let the record show it did cross my mind.

“Sweetheart…” It wasn’t the sex she was scared of, it was pregnancy. But—

“Banana! Banana, banana, banana!”

She grabbed my shaft between us and squeezed at the root, moving her hand up and down, trying to get me off. I wanted to try to convince her one more time, but she said the safe word, and even though I was attached to a dick, I wasn’t one. “You’re supposed to stop when someone calls the safe word.”

“Here,” she mumbled into our dirty kiss, not stopping her hand. “I’ll get you off, too.”

The worst part was that my cock, which was not known for its astuteness, was absolutely okay with the deal. It sprang in her hand happily, bobbing along each time she gave it a thorough stroke.

I could feel my balls tighten and knew I was going to come all over her chest. I ripped my mouth from hers, looking down between us as she jerked me off, my cock angled between her tits.

I didn’t want to miss it when it happened.

“Am I doing that okay?”

“Maybe go a little faster.”

She did.

I closed my eyes, dropping my head backward.

“Faster?”

She went faster.

I was at her mercy.

I was never at women’s mercy when it came to sex. I dated good old-fashioned belles who did what I told them to do in the bedroom. Took instructions well, always over-performed, and never suggested anything outside the box.

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m close.”

“Awesome,” she breathed underneath me, and I could feel the tips of her tits bouncing to the rhythm of her movements.

And then it happened.

My cock shot white congratulatory confetti at her breasts for making me come. This was hands-down the best orgasm I’d ever had. And I’d had many.

I plopped beside her, jerking her into my arms and kissing her forehead.

“That was amazing.”

For the next few minutes, she didn’t talk. Just pressed herself against me.

After a few moments, her breathing became slow and shallow, and I realized she’d fallen asleep.

In my arms.

It was almost romantic, if it wasn’t for the soft snores coming from her little nose.

Or for the fact that my cock was now completely happy, but something else inside me sure wasn’t.

My entire life, I’d never slept in.

My body wasn’t programmed to sleep beyond six-thirty A.M.

From a young age, I’d had school, football practices, Sunday mass, summer jobs, volunteer work. You name it, I woke up early for it.

So, of course, the one and only time I slept in, something catastrophic happened.

The first signs of disaster occurred around the time I realized there was someone who was not Tennessee inside the room, while I was lying on my stomach, my ass completely visible to whoever was there.

“Hello, Mrs. Costello! We have good news for you and your husband.”

“You do?” I heard Tennessee ask. “What is it? Did Mrs. Warren have a stroke?”

I turned my head slowly at the same time I dragged the cover over my ass. Not that I wasn’t proud of my buns of steel, but flaunting them was pure vanity.

The staffer let out an uncomfortable giggle.

“No, Mrs. Warren is fine. Your husband has expressed his desire to leave the cruise early and move from the Elation to the Ecstasy. We told him that it might not be doable. Well, we are extremely happy to inform you that it is. We’ll be making a stop at Green Turtle Cay in a few hours, where you will be able to switch cruises. I took it upon myself to check with the control center aboard the Ecstasy personally, and they can accommodate you. We only ask that you check out by eleven, so we can get all the paperwork ready.”

There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of Tennessee clearing her throat.

I felt like a complete jackass.

Not that she didn’t know I’d tried to get off of this ship when we had just found out we were stuck together, but the timing couldn’t have been more horrible.

To be honest, I didn’t even want to join our families at this point.

Now that I had Tennessee all for myself, the prospect of rubbing and licking each other’s genitals for six more days seemed much more appealing than playing golf and bridge with Wyatt and Dad.

“Thank you.” I caught my childhood crush standing straight as a ruler in front of the representative, wearing one of her trashy before outfits. “I appreciate it. We’ll make sure to check out on time.”

After she closed the door, Tennessee began packing her things silently. I flipped on my back, my cock swinging up, ready to reacquaint itself with Turner again.

Shut up, cock. We have bigger fish to fry.

“It was before,” I said hoarsely.

“I don’t care.” She was stuffing all of her old clothes into her bag but made no move to take the new ones I’d bought for her.

“I had no idea we were going to hit it off. Or that you felt anything other than pure disgust toward me.” I sat up, running a hand through my hair.

“Desire is not a good enough feeling to lose family time over.” She shrugged, trying to look unfazed. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway, because it was going to end in six days. So really, who cares?”

I did.

I cared.

“We can forget this conversation happened,” I suggested.

I meant the one with the cruise staffer.

“Sure. Or the days before that,” Tennessee said, referring to the talk we were having right in that moment.

There was no more talk after that when we checked out, got off the Elation, and boarded the Ecstasy.

Some ecstasy it was.

Later that evening, Tennessee and I were sitting around a large dining table, joined by the rest of our families. I sat in one row with Wyatt, Mom, and Dad, and she was with her own parents, Trinity, and Bear.

Bear looked so much like Rob, I did a double take the first time I saw him. The kid was a replica of my ex-best friend, dimples, chestnut hair, and all.

He wore a denim shirt and black jeans, and I had to say, he looked like a well-off kid from a good family. It made me feel guilty that it surprised me.

I remembered Tennessee mentioned that she bought his clothes. Anger slammed into me. How could I not see it all those years I’d ignored her? How she always put her son first? How she prioritized making people (other than herself) look like a million bucks?

“What are you playing these days, kiddo? Fortnite?” Wyatt asked Bear.

“No flicking way.” Bear shook his head, munching on a tip of a French fry. “I’m more into the story of the game. Character-building. Stuff like that. Fortnite is all about running and shooting aimlessly. I need context.”

“So what are you playing?” I interjected. I used to be big on video games before I became the town’s healer and saver full-time. “If not Fortnite.”

Bear turned to look at me for the first time. I wondered if he knew about his mother’s deep dislike toward me, at least until a few days ago, but judging by his blank face, he had no idea.

“God of War.”

“Isn’t that the game where the characters are a father and son?” Wyatt shoved a whole rib into his mouth, smacking his lips together as he ate.

“And so what?” Bear frowned defensively. “It’s still good.”

“If you like God of War, you are going to love Assassin’s Creed,” I commented.

“I know.” Bear’s eyes lit up as he turned to me again. “I’m saving up for it.”

“I have it.”

“You do?”

Wyatt seemed relieved to be able to get back to conversing with my dad about football.

I nodded, and because apparently, I was not above shameless manipulation, I added, “Anytime you wanna play, just let me know. I have a game room with every console you can think of. Air hockey table, too.”

I shot a glance at Tennessee.

Her neck immediately extended, and she put her hand on Bear’s arm.

“Honey, Dr. Costello is just being polite.”

“I’m not being polite.” I popped a piece of chicken into my mouth. “If he wants to come play, that’s perfectly fine with me. We’re practically going to be family now.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary.” She shot me a faux-polite smile.

“Just trying to be a good brother-in-law.” I flashed my teeth right back at her.

“So how did you survive Nessy for four days, anyway?” Mrs. Turner twisted toward me in her seat, chuckling lightly. “I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble.”

The only trouble Tennessee was currently giving me was the fact that she was back to wearing Pretty Woman clothes and was drawing attention from every male in the dining room of the Ecstasy.

“We were perfectly civil.” I shot my childhood crush a look, daring her to defy me.

“Perfectly,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Well, I apologize if she caused you any…discomfort.” Trinity shifted in her seat, looking boring as white paint drying on a wall in her nun-like black dress. Had she always been this…yeah, come to think of it, she had.

Anger began slithering its way back into my system.

I didn’t like the way Tennessee’s family was bringing her down. Or the way she shrank like a wilting daisy, even with all of her hair and bright colors and red lipstick, when they spoke.

“No discomfort whatsoever.” I pinned Trinity with a dry, casual look.

Trinity visibly winced. “Of course. She is great. My favorite sister.” She laughed, resting her head on top of Tennessee’s shoulder. “My only sister, too.”

Hilarious.

Also, she should definitely not quit her day job, which she was at risk of losing anyway, because her boss—me—had her ass in a sling.

Tennessee stiffened, looking the other way.

“Everything went fine?” Now her dad asked her directly, like I was covering up for her. He seemed to be the type to repeat whatever his wife was saying.

Still. Tennessee was twenty-nine, for goodness’ sake. What kind of bullshit was that?

“Cruz already told you, it was fine,” Tennessee drawled in barely-contained anger, pushing her food around her plate with her fork.

I noticed she didn’t drink wine with all the adults. Rather, that she wasn’t offered wine in the first place by her family, or mine. Another telltale sign that in her family’s eyes, she was still the kid who’d messed up.

“Anyway, Dr. Costello, we are so sorry about the mix-up,” said Donna Turner.

“Tennessee already apologized. Several times, in fact.” I leaned in on my chair, my jaw ticking with irritation. “No need to make a big deal out of it.”

“That’s my Cruzy,” my mother cooed, resting a hand on my shoulder. “So wonderfully forgiving.”

This went on and on for the entire three-course meal.

The conversation seemed to go in circles:

Wyatt and Trinity’s wedding.

When was I going to finally get married to Gabby?

Messy Nessy would need to learn how to settle and give Tim Trapp a chance if she wanted to get married, even though he had a BO problem, two ex-wives, and a sinking business.

All throughout, the only thing I cared about was that the older Turner sister looked miserable. So, when everyone retired to their rooms (both Tennessee and I got our own separate bedrooms), I immediately made my way to her stateroom to check if she was okay.

I didn’t care if she didn’t want to see me. Someone had to show her they didn’t see her as a royal fuck-up—because she wasn’t. She was the best of the bunch of them.

I raised my fist to knock on her door just as it swung open and her mother came out. Donna Turner’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Dr. Costello! This is Nessy’s room. I’m guessing you are looking for Trinity and Wyatt’s room?”

“You’re guessing wrong.” I flashed my teeth in what I hoped was a smile. “I came to see Tennessee.”

“But…why?” She looked genuinely surprised.

“She seemed a little quiet over dinner. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

I could spot my object of desire behind her mother’s shoulder, inside the room. She was hugging her arms and looking out the window. The room was pretty crappy. Not as spacious or new as mine.

“Oh, well. Just be careful. I can’t imagine Gabriella would be thrilled to know you’ve been spending so much alone time with another woman lately.”

Donna flashed a ditzy beam before strolling down the corridor, back to her room. I watched her go, reminding myself I wasn’t going to give up my good-guy reputation, and all the power that came with it, because of someone else’s problems.

I pushed the door open, not waiting for Tennessee to invite me in. I propped a shoulder against the wall, shoving my hands into my front pockets.

“What the hell happened out there?”

“What do you mean?” Her back was still to me, her timbre weak and idle. Like she’d mentally checked out.

“They treated you like a kid.”

“Maybe that’s how they see me.”

“Well, maybe it’s high time it stops. Respect has to be demanded, no one’s going to give it to you for free.”

“Is that what you came here to say?”

She spun on her heel, still hugging herself. Even though her eyes were dry, the lights were out behind them. The same girl who threw sass my way on a weekly basis at the diner was gone.

I wanted her back.

Not the ghost of her, which was standing right in front of me now, pretending everything was fine.

“Or did you come here to tell me how great Bear is, how you’d love to give him some guidance, to let him play your video games, or whatever this bull-blip was? Because I don’t need your assistance, either, Cruz.”

Funny, she seemed to be at a loss for words when her family berated her but had no trouble busting my balls for the crime of breathing in her vicinity.

“Nah, the kid’s got a dad who wants to be in the picture. I just know video games are expensive as hell.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“To ask you out for a drink. Right now. You need it. I need it. Your kid is with his grandparents. Let’s be grown-ups again. Just for an hour or two.”

She was tempted.

I could tell, by the way her hand fluttered over her plastic necklace, rearranging it over her delicate neck.

“You mean, at the bar? Our families could see us.”

“I’ll try not to come on your bare chest, then,” I deadpanned.

She suppressed a smile. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Not coming on your chest? Me, too. Publicly, anyway. But having a drink should pose no problem. Then we can go to my room and do all the fun stuff.”

“No, I don’t think we should be seen together, period.”

“Being my friend will give you a lot of pull in Fairhope. It’s the first step toward gaining respect.”

“Lord, you really are a nice guy, aren’t you?” She sniffed, exasperated.

“If it makes you feel any better, rumor has it we finish last.”

“Not last night, you didn’t.”

Touché.