Page 98 of Austin

“You think?” I say sarcastically.

“So, what do you say? Is it a bet?”

I eye him, trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of his. “Why am I scared to ask the terms of this bet?”

He smiles from ear to ear. “Because you know me too well.”

I step back, needing space from him so that I won’t agree without thinking it through. I narrow my eyes. “Lay it out. What do you have in mind?”

He reaches for me again, and I retreat again, tilting my finger back and forth in front of him.

“Uh-uh. Keep your distance. I don’t need you trying to unfairly sway things your way.”

He puts his hand on his chest. “Unfairly? Me?”

“Ha! Yes, you. Come on, give it to me.”

“Okay, if you make it home, without”—he holds up his hand, getting ready to count the terms off on his fingers—“squealing the tires, hitting anything, or getting a scratch on the truck, then I’ll hire someone to stay with me while I recover, so you’ll be off the hook.”

I purse my lips, thinking something is off. Would he actually hire someone? I don’t want him to. I’m kind of looking forward to taking care of him. But, honestly, I know I can make it home without any of those things happening. I mean, it’s a Jeep, not a Ferrari.

“Then, what happens if I lose?”

He pulls me into him. “You move in with me.”

I jerk my head back. “You’re not serious, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“Because that’s kind of fast, don’t you think?”

“Haven’t you already figured out that I like things ‘kind of fast’?” He holds up his fingers to make air quotes.

I chuckle, hitting his chest.

“Come on. Take the bet. Show me what you’ve got.”

My heart’s beating fast.

Does he really want me to move in with him?

I bite the inside of my lip, contemplating the idea. I honestly think I can make it home without breaking his terms. So, is this just his way of mentioning the idea? Rolling the dice to see how I’ll react, knowing I’ll win the bet?

He leans his head down to look me in the eye, raising his brows up and down. “What do you say? Do we have a bet, or are you scared?”

“Did you really just ask if I was scared?” I deadpan.

“Sure did. What you got?” He steps back, holding his hands out to his sides in a challenge.

“Fine.” I slightly tilt my head. “I’ll take your bet. Get ready to have some fat nurse with moles on her face that have hair sticking out from them and smells like Bengay taking care of you.”

“Why does she have to be fat?”

“Because, if I’m not taking care of you, you damn well won’t have someone hot doing the job.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” he says as we approach the truck.

“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s the nurse. Bitches be crazy when they know a rich man needs to be taken care of.”