Page 14 of Made for Mayhem

“Whining.”

Follow-up questions were on the tip of my tongue, but that was against her new rules.

“One thing you wish you could stop doing?” Daisy asked.

My answer was like a gut punch, it came so fast. “Saying things are okay when they’re not.”

She rubbed a hand over her heart, then gave a little nod. “Boy, I get that one.”

“Why’d you leave your sister if you didn’t want to move here?”

Daisy grimaced, then put her hands over eyes. “I hate being a burden.”

“I doubt she sees it that way,” I said, breaking the rules when her shoulders sagged under the weight of the admission. “She loves you, yeah?”

She waggled a finger at me, then said, “One thing you’d never tell a first date?”

I leaned forward, waiting until she did the same, her smile coming back as we had our heads almost together. “After a long day, nothing takes the edge off quite like ice-cold chocolate milk, straight from the carton.”

Daisy gasped, pulling back enough to put her hand over her mouth. “You rebel.”

I sat back, arms crossed over my chest. “I know. You’ll never look at me the same again.”

She cackled, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “Lights on or off?”

Just as abruptly as she’d started laughing, she stopped. Amusement still danced across her features, but now there was a level of heat to it I hadn’t seen from her yet. I hadn’t meant the question to sound so dirty, but now I couldn’t help but imagine soft light spilling across every inch of Daisy’s skin, sprawled out beneath me. That’s exactly what I’d want, given the opportunity to take this further than just one night. But that wasn’t what this was.

“On,” she said, her voice a little rough. “What’s something that could make you walk away, even if you didn’t want to?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Not being chosen back.”

Daisy’s smile faltered for just a second, so fast I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t looking for it. Then she nodded, like she understood more than she let on.

She picked up her burger, and I followed her lead, the moment settling quietly between us.

When she finished, I tapped my fingers on the table. “Okay. Last question. Who’s your hall pass?”

“Easy.” She threw her napkin down and grinned. “Tom Selleck.”

I reared back, not at all expecting that answer. “Really?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” she said. “Give me the Magnum P.I. version, though. Have you seen his mustache? Honestly, that might be peak facial hair right there.”

Without meaning to, I scratched at my playoff beard. “Should I be insulted?”

“Oh, I like a beard.” Her eyes flicked over me in a way that made my chest tighten. “But a mustache? That’s a statement. That says, ‘I have power tools and own multiple flannel shirts.’”

Her eyes took on a mischievous, untrustworthy gleam as she slid her empty basket aside and folded her hands on the table. “Truth or dare?”

After everything we’d just admitted, there was only one answer. “Dare.”

Her smile widened. She leaned forward, lowering her voice like she was about to share a secret. “I dare you to shave your beard into a mustache.”

I blinked once. Twice.

“Into a—” I stopped and shook my head. “You’re kidding.”

Daisy watched me, lips twitching. “Nope.”