15. Ford #2
“Very true,” I agree. My gaze stays glued on June.
She keeps rubbing her lips together as if she isn’t used to lipstick.
Keeps picking at her cuticles, too. And the way she keeps most of her weight on one foot, like her already short height might be mitigated even more, making her almost small enough to disappear entirely?
Yeah, she’s definitely on edge, though I have no idea if the quirks she’s displaying were apparent before I walked over or if I have my presence to thank for them.
“His loss. My win,” I tell her.
Tucking my hands into my slacks, I lift my shoulders in a shrug and shift closer. “Guess we’ll have to cut him some slack, now, won’t we, June Bug?”
Her weighted side-eye finally meets mine, but only for a split second.
She doesn’t like it. How I called her out and addressed her directly instead of letting Violet and Jagger speak for her.
I can tell by the rigidity in her posture.
The way her pretty eyes keep bouncing off every surface in the room.
Yeah, I definitely threw the girl for a loop by bidding on her tonight.
Truth be told, I threw myself for a loop, too.
I did not see it coming. At. All. Not that she doesn’t deserve a bid and whatnot, but the girl literally invited her boyfriend.
Why the hell would I waste my time? Yet, here we are.
“What do you say, Bug?” I push. “Do we cut your boy some slack? Just this once?”
“Bryan and I are fine,” she finally says.
Not what I was inferring, but okay.
“See? I knew you would be. These two, man.” I hook my thumb toward June while addressing my big brother. “They’re the real deal, am I right?”
Amusement flashes in his eyes, but he shuts it down just as quickly. Probably because he wants to stay on his girlfriend’s good side, but what do I know? I’m not whipped.
Violet turns in Jagger’s arms and wraps hers around his waist. “So, what are we doing for our date?”
The question is clearly meant for her boyfriend alone, effectively dismissing June and me from her conversation while simultaneously leaving us to our own devices.
I continue my little staredown with June, who has yet to look at me. “You know, it’s going to be a long date if you can’t even look at me.” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t reply. “You’re quiet,” I note.
“I’m always quiet.”
“More quiet than usual,” I clarify.
“You noticed?”
She has no idea.
My mouth quirks as I take her in. Her long eyelashes. The little bow of her mouth. The freckle beneath her right eye. “Every tiny detail.” I rest my shoulder against the wall and cross one ankle over the other.
I got nowhere to be, June Bug. Might as well start talking.
“So?” I push. “Why so quiet? You disappointed in the results?”
Her full lips press together even more.
Well, fuck me sideways. Is she disappointed in the results?
My question hangs in the air until my insecurities—yes, I’m human, and yes, I have them, though they’re usually more of a rare annoyance than a constant nagging—rear their ugly head.
“June, are you seriously disappointed?” I push.
With a deep breath, June murmurs, “Not the word I’d use—”
“Ouch.” I clutch my chest. “Way to knock a guy down, Bug.”
Her gaze finally flicks to mine. “Maybe I’m reeling from the fact that you spent way too much money on me. Ever think of that, Ford? I don’t want to be looked at as a pity date or a joke.” She looks back at the ground, and I can practically hear the inner self-loathing from my spot beside her.
Wait. What did she just say?
“June, you’re not a pity date or a joke—”
“Yeah, because none of us heard Ethan’s comments during the auction.” She shuts down even more, reminding me of a kicked puppy.
I scrub my hand over my face. “Those comments had nothing to do with you.”
“Of course, they didn’t.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Look, I know you mean well, but if we could pretend I didn’t say that last part, it’d really help me get through the rest of this evening. Please?”
I want to push back. I want to shake her and tell her she’s crazy if she honestly gives an asshole like Morgan’s words even a sliver of her mental space when she’s so much better than him in every fucking aspect. Trouble is, I know it won’t get me anywhere. Not tonight, anyway.
“Besides,” June continues, “I’m sure Cobie would probably let you off the hook, since—”
“I don’t want to be let off the hook.”
She peeks up at me again, and I can’t decipher what shines back at me. Disbelief? Anxiety? Apprehension?
“You sure?” she whispers.
“You doubt me?” I volley.
Her eyes thin as she studies me, and I can’t help it.
I’m curious. What she’s thinking. The thoughts filtering through her pretty little mind.
Does she want me to let us off the hook?
Would she rather surrender than spend a night with me?
Fuck. Talk about a blow to the ego. And not the kind that includes a hot mouth wrapped around a certain appendage, either.
Now those are solid blows to the ego, if you catch my drift.
This, though? This is downright uncomfortable.
Is she honestly disappointed I bid on her, let alone won?
Or is she just butthurt over Morgan’s messed-up comments and is somehow projecting her insecurities?
“I can’t decide,” she admits before clarifying, “Whether or not I believe you.” A gentle shake of her head disperses whatever is on the tip of her tongue.
June tucks her stick-straight hair behind her ear, and a glint catches my eye from the movement. Interesting. I hadn’t pegged her as a jewelry girl. Or at least, nothing over the top. The diamond studs are a nice touch. Nothing too flashy. Just tasteful. Feminine. Like my June.
Feeling my stare, she squirms beside me. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter… Uh, if you’re sure you want to do this, when do you want to cash in?”
“Depends on what you’re offering.”
A quiet scoff escapes her. “You know what I mean, Ford. Cobie said we’re supposed to tell one of the assistant organizers our plans before we leave so there’s proof you’re getting what you pay for, and since you apparently don’t want to be let off the hook, I figured we should probably pinpoint a night or whatever unless you changed your mind and—”
“Saturday night?” I suggest.
She hesitates. “Like, next Saturday?”
I nod.
“Oh.” Her forehead wrinkles, and she looks down at her feet again. “Uh.”
“There a problem with Saturday night?”
“Friday’s better, unless you’re busy, then—”
“I can do Friday,” I tell her.
“Okay.”
Well, would you look at that. We can be agreeable.
“Am I allowed to pick you up?” I ask. My hand clenches as I fight the impulse to touch her chin and force her to look at me. “Or do you think your boyfriend will get his panties in a twist?”
“Not my boyfriend,” she murmurs.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet,” she agrees. The words hit like a lash, shocking the hell out of me, though I have no idea why.
At least she isn’t denying it anymore. They’re perfect for each other, even if I did just hand over a wad of cash to defend her from a prick tonight.
Not my problem. Besides, if I put my ego aside, it’s easy to see she deserves someone like Bryan.
Someone with the same goals and perspective and hopes and dreams and, blah, blah, blah.
Kill me now. This. This is why it would never work between us.
Because all that bullshit? It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“I’ll see you Friday,” I announce.
“Yeah, of course.” She looks down at her hands, her now-blotchy lips from all the rubbing and nibbling bunching on one side. This girl has no right to look so damn cute when she’s out of her comfort zone.
“And June?” I push.
“Yeah?” She peeks up at me again, and it hits like an ice-cold glass of water on a hot summer day.
Something in my chest skips. I move closer, dropping my voice low. “You were worth every penny.”
A ghost of a smile threatens to take over her pretty face, but she stops it from reaching her mouth. Her eyes, though? They’re practically brimming with gratitude. “Thanks, Ford.”
“Anytime, June.”
And fuck me, I’m almost starting to believe it myself.