SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) by Olivia Chase

look down at her lips and watch them part ever so slightly. Aubrey might be trying to play cool, but she still responds to me. A small thrill whips through me. “Let me take you to dinner.”
    “I already ate.” She glances at the ground. “Why are you here, Smith? Seems like you got what you wanted.”
    Fuck. I can tell she’s trying to sound casual, but I see the tension in her shoulders. Her feelings got hurt by me running off like that.
    I scrub my face with my hands. “Look. I’m shitty at all of this. I haven’t been on a date in probably well over a year.”
    That makes her look up at me. She raises a brow. “I wouldn’t exactly call what happened between us a date.”
    I roll my eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I mean I want you to come out with me tonight. I’ll buy you dessert or get you drunk. Your choice.”
    She furrows her brow, studying my face. I try to keep myself steady, tell myself that this isn’t that important, but I can’t help feeling like everything is hinging on her response right now.
    The more she thinks, the worse it gets for me. So I throw out another possibility, hoping to catch her interest. “I know a place that makes the best damn key lime pie you’ve ever had in your entire life.” It’s a stab in the dark, a random hope that she might be tempted enough by food to give me a chance.
    I’ve never had to work to get with a woman before. Why am I pushing this so hard? I know the answer when I look down into her eyes, see nuanced emotions flickering right in front of me. Because the moment she opened the door, I felt like I could breathe after living underwater for a week.
    Aubrey is oxygen.
    She draws her lip between her teeth, and I see in her eyes that she’s getting swayed by my argument. “I haven’t had a good key lime pie since I visited Florida a couple of years ago,” she admits.
    “This woman is a Key West native who moved here when she got married. She’ll make your panties melt off.”
    That makes her quirk a smile. “Don’t think that a slice of pie is going to make anything happen to my panties, Smith.”
    We’ll see about that. I wisely refrain from saying that and just give her what I hope is an innocent smile.
    She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and the laugh she gives sinks down beneath my skin, chips away at the hardness that had surrounded my chest all week. I feel alive with her, elated, aroused, warm. “God, I’m a walking cliché. Swayed by sweets.”
    “It happens to the best of us. We all have our weaknesses.”
    “Somehow I don’t think you have any,” she murmurs as she cracks the door open, grabs her purse off the side table, then locks up.
    “You’d be surprised.” I leave my comment at that. Because Aubrey’s beginning to feel like a weakness, an addiction. Something I crave beyond sensible reason. If I were smart, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d let her slip away.
    For once in my life, I’m kind of glad I’m not smart.
    We stroll to the parking lot.
    “Where’s your car?” she asks from directly behind me.
    I point to the motorcycle. “Right there.”
    “Oh. God. I should have guessed.” There’s a breathlessness in her voice.
    “You’ve never been on one, have you,” I say as I turn around to peer down at her.
    Her eyes are wide, locked on mine, and in this moment I feel like I’m the only man on the planet. Aubrey has a way of making me crave that look, making me want to keep her looking at me like that.
    “I don’t have a helmet,” she says weakly.
    “I have one on the back of my bike. Next argument.”
    She crosses her arms and squints at me. “You’re kind of arrogant, you know.”
    I laugh, and it feels freeing. My laugh makes her lose her irritated look, and she gives me a small smile. “You’re not the first person to tell me this today.” I take her hand, feeling the slender bones, the soft skin, feeling like maybe this week won’t be so bad after all. “Hop on the back. You’re about to learn