Free Blindsided by Emma Hart Page B

the courier. Then she turns without shutting the door and looks at me.
    “Well?”
    I shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m not done talkin’.”
    “I am,” she replies defiantly. “I’m not interested in talking to someone who repeatedly brings out the worst in me.”
    “You bring out the best in me, darlin’, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet.”
    She slams the door shut and storms past me back into the kitchen. “That, cowboy, is probably because I’m the only girl who refuses to take your shit.”
    “And because you’re the only girl who gives me a reason to be something other than what I’ve been.”
    “That’s cute if you think I’m falling for that. Words don’t mean a thing, Corey. Actions speak a million times louder than words ever could.” She leans against the kitchen counter again. “You tell me so many things, but your actions don’t back them up.”
    “You’re right,” I concede. “What are you doing now?”
    “I’m about to eat all the Cheetos in the house and binge-watch Twilight.”
    I raise an eyebrow, but she’s deadly serious. “I have a better idea.”
    “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re not going to romance your way into my pants, Corey. I wish you would understand that. You’re not going to fuck me then walk away from me. That’s the end of the story.” She stares at me, the truth of her words evident in the harshness of her gaze. “Either we’re friends or we’re nothing at all, because I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”
    I walk around the kitchen island to her and stop in front of her. I don’t touch her—just like I promised—but I do grip the counter on either side of her body. “One chance,” I whisper. “Give me one chance to prove to you that you’re not like all the other girls.”
    “Of course I’m not like the other girls. I’m one in a fucking million.”
    My lips tug up on one side. “Right. So give me a chance to prove that you’re one in a fucking million to me .”
    “And how long is your one chance, hmm? A night? A day?”
    “A week. One week. If, in seven days, you’re not convinced, I’ll let you walk away from me.”
    “Really?” She looks at me. “You’ll let me go?”
    I nod slowly, even though I’m doubting the truth of my words. I’m not sure I can let her go until I’ve felt her pussy clenching my cock, but if that’s what she wants to hear, then sure. I’ll let her go in a week if she’s still hating me.
    Leah says nothing for a long moment, one that lingers heavily between us. I’m asking for a lot, especially when I can’t guarantee anything she wants, but I’m fed up with the back-and-forth.
    “Okay, fine.” She swallows and meets my eyes fully. “One week, but you have to let me go anyway. Even if you convince me that I’m not just any other girl, you let me go.”
    I clamp my jaw shut. “That’s not what I said.”
    “That’s what I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”

R ule one: broken.
    I never expected him to agree to what I said. I never expected that he’d agree to let me leave. I thought he’d fight me, argue until I gave in, but all he did was look at me for an agonizingly long moment before he agreed.
    I’m not sure what it says. Does it say that he doesn’t actually care if he’s willing to let me go so easily? Or does it say that he respects me enough to let me have it the way I want it?
    Playing him at his own game would be much easier if I knew the rules.
    I throw my purse onto the floor of his Evoque and climb into the passenger’s seat. He smiles at me across the car. Just a smile. No words. Maybe he’s afraid that, if he talks, he’ll piss me off.
    It’s a good call, to be honest.
    His hair is wet, and the big bag on the back seat tells me that he’s come straight from practice.
    “Hi.”
    “Hi,” I reply. “Good day?”
    “Yep. You?”
    “It was okay.” I hug my knees.
    “Nice jersey.”
    “It’s all right, I suppose.” I shrug.