Foolproof (Drexler University, #2)

“Thanks, Jack.” I needed to text Payton to nail down a specific date to go camping. She invited me to tent camp in the Sierra Nevadas with Blake. She promised there’d be no hanky-panky as long as I was in the same tent as them. Even I called bullshit on this, but as long as I didn’t hear any sleeping bag shuffling, we’d be okay.

Ryan strode through the door at five till noon, all shaggy hair and tight white T-shirt that clung in all the right ways to his body, especially his arms. He clutched the Office Jax shirt in his fist and his cell in the other. His brows furrowed in concentration as he furiously tapped something in his phone.

He shot me a smile that I was beginning to realize he didn’t give very many people, and my heart quickened in response. No, heart, you’re staying out of this, remember? I swallowed and took a deep breath, calming my hammering pulse. Ryan was the equivalent of ten cups of coffee to my system—cardiac arrest–inducing.

A few minutes later he was back.

“Have a good weekend?”

So we were playing it this way, were we? Avoidance 101. I aced that class. Heck, I was the fricken valedictorian of the program. My psychology professor once said people came in two types: dog people and cat people. Dog people liked to be openly praised, begging for positive attention. Cat people were the opposite. Give them direct praise and they retreated like they’d been dunked in ice water. Ryan had meow written all over that pretty boy face. In order to get anywhere with him, I had to skirt this, whatever this was.

“It was okay. This asshole dipped me in the ocean, then I got hurt, and he redeemed himself by playing doctor.”

“Sounds like he has potential.”

I stared him down. “Maybe. If you get past the bad jokes and hat hair.”

He smoothed his hand over his hair. Ha. “Something tells me, if anyone can, it’d be you.” His lips tipped up in the corners, and the skin around his eyes crinkled.

Did I just get him to admit he was interested in me? God, my psychology teacher deserved a hug. My dry-spell meter urged me to push further, even if this whole situation screamed bad idea. On a scale of semi-sketch to where did I leave my panties? this ranked a solid what the fuck are you thinking?

Jack came traipsing out of the file folder aisle and over to where Ryan and I stood. “Ryan, you’re in the furniture department today. Our ad has chairs at 40 percent discount and I expect a lot of people pouring in this afternoon.”

I looked between the two of them. Seemed like the tension from the past few weeks had lessened, both of them finally looking like they didn’t want to tear each other’s heads off.

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, boy. Usually whoever worked the furniture department spent the majority of the day carrying chairs up to the register, meaning Ryan and I would be in close proximity for the next—I glanced at the clock on the computer screen—five hours. My pulse thundered in my ears and my stomach did this awkward fluttering thing as Ryan shot me a smile. Play it cool, girl. It’s purely physical.

Jack had mad clairvoyant skills, because customers consistently streamed in around two. Ryan came up to my register, the sinewy muscles in his arms straining as he gripped a large box.

He propped the box on the counter and made his way around to where I stood. Reaching down to a stack of pamphlets underneath the counter, his forearm brushed my calf, the contact sending a jolt straight to my core. His coconut shampoo wafted past my nose, sending me back to our late-night beach trip. The warmth of his skin, the taste of saltwater on his neck after he had thrown me in the Pacific. His impressive erection that deserved a thorough inspection. The hell? I was turned on by calf grazes and shampoo? Was I in a fricken romance novel now? Next I would be fawning over his rippling abs and flowing hair. Crap. He did have nice abs.

It’s just his body. As long as you don’t start thinking about anything involving his personality, you’re okay. Not a problem. Ryan was prickly, anyway. Made it easier just to want him as a one-night stand.

“Jules?” I snapped my attention back to Ryan, who was staring at me like I had lost a couple of screws in my head. How long had I spaced out in this Fabio romance of mine?

I cleared my throat and plastered on a smile. “Yeah?”

“Can you scoot over so I can ring him up?”

“Yeah, sure, sorry.”

I shifted a couple steps to the left and watched the screen as Ryan typed in his ID and rung up the guy. His arm grazed mine, his warm skin sending goose bumps skittering across my body. Shit, I needed to get this guy out of my system. He probably wouldn’t even be a good lay. Most guys were sorely lacking in the pleasure-giving category.

I could have your toes curling in twenty seconds flat. Two minutes, and I’d be at the top of that spreadsheet of yours. Please let that be true.

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