Free Back in the Game: A Stardust, Texas Novel by Lori Wilde Page A

grade teacher had done just before she hauled him off to the principal’s office for putting a frog down the back of some little girl’s dress. “Do you even have any idea who Jane Austen is?”
    “Sure. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies .”
    “Of course you have.” She scowled, squared earnest shoulders, and tossed her head as if she was indeed a prissy lass from a Regency-era drawing room. “My name is Breeanne Carlyle.”
    Breeanne. Nice name. It made him think of spring training when the season was fresh, and exciting.
    “And for your information, there is nothing wrong with being well-read, and with having a wide vocabulary. I opted for the word that fit the situation.”
    “And bounder won out?”
    “Indeed.”
    “What exactly is a bounder?”
    “A cad, a blackguard, a parvenu, a heel—”
    “Modern-day English, please.”
    “A jerk, a creep, a louse, or if you prefer cruder vernacular, which I presume you do, a wanker, a douche, an asshat, a butthead, a—”
    “Point taken. I apologize for kissing you.”
    “I suppose I shouldn’t criticize,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”
    “What isn’t my fault?”
    “You can’t help yourself.” If sarcasm were a deep line drive, her tone would have just loaded the bases. “I’m sure you’re used to getting everything you want.”
    She was right. He was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted. And right now he wanted her, even if he had no idea why.
    He raised an index finger like an objection. “In my defense, I did ask you to go with it before I kissed you. You had time to say no. You could have said no. Why didn’t you say no?”
    Her hands flew up to a face that was both alarmed and fascinated. “I was overwhelmed. You overwhelmed me. You’re an overwhelming person.”
    “And you pack a mean elbow.” He rubbed his stinging solar plexus. “But you’re also a good sport. You did wait until the others left before you punched me. I appreciate that.”
    “I didn’t punch you, I jabbed you. Be precise.”
    “Okay. You jabbed me.”
    “Why did you pretend I was your girlfriend?”
    “You saw them. They were hovering like vultures.”
    “I assumed you were familiar with that brand of female attention. Courted it, in fact.” Her voice was soft, but strong, the rich velvet of Southern drawl back-loaded with Texas grit.
    God, he could listen to her talk all day. “Yeah, well, I was feeling pretty exposed all alone in here with those piranhas.”
    “Poor baby. It must be so hard being you.”
    “And then there you were.” He deepened his smile, stepped closer. This time she didn’t back up, but she had that I-wanna-bolt look in her eyes, “My salvation.”
    She sniffed. “Kissing me was the only solution you could come up with?”
    “Not the only one, but the most pleasant.”
    “For the record, I did not enjoy it,” she said. Her nose twitched. Bunny rabbit.
    He chuckled. “Liar. You loved letting those snooty witches think you were my girlfriend. And you liked kissing me.”
    She tossed her head, simultaneously fiery and fearful. If she were a weather report it would read sunny with a chance of hurricane. “My enjoyment is neither here nor there.”
    “But you liked it.” Yeah, he was being smug, but he was one-hundred-percent certain she’d been as into the kiss as he had.
    “I like French fries drenched in ketchup, that doesn’t mean they’re good for me.”
    He lowered his voice, and his eyelids. “Do you always do what’s good for you, Breezy?”
    “Breezy?” The scowl dug into her forehead creased into the Panama Canal. “What do you think you are doing?”
    “I figured a cool nickname might loosen you up.” Yeah, he was baiting her, but what fun.
    “I need neither a nickname, nor loosening up, but thank you for being so concerned about my stiffness.”
    He couldn’t resist sidling closer. “Sweetheart, you are tighter than a rusty door hinge. I can fix that right up for you.”
    “Back off,