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Like hot sauce, dummy. Stop thinking about kissing him or you’re gonna get burned.
“Sounds like it’s going to be a fun night,” Dylan said, getting up to clear away their empty beer bottles.
“I hope so,” Brooke agreed, pressing the cool glass of her beer bottle against her over-warm cheek.
“You want another beer?” he asked from the kitchen.
“No thanks. I’ve got work tomorrow.” Two was her limit on a weeknight. Also, it seemed like an extra-bad idea to let herself get drunk around Dylan. The last time they’d been drunk together, he’d kissed her, and she’d enjoyed it a lot more than he had.
She was already having too many feelings about him today. If she let herself go, she might do something insane like climb into his lap and try to kiss him again.
He came back with a fresh beer from the fridge. His fifth, by Brooke’s count. The guy could really put them away when he decided to cut loose. Although it sounded like he’d more than earned a little indulgence.
As he walked back to the couch, a hint of movement under his gray sweatpants caught Brooke’s attention and reminded her of the eyeful she’d gotten that morning. Embarrassed, she quickly averted her eyes. “It turns out our departmental picnic is also this Saturday, and I totally forgot about it. But I think I’m gonna skip it.”
He looked over at her. “Why?”
She gazed at him through her lashes and told the truth. “I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you allowed to bring a guest to the picnic?”
“Well, yeah. But it’ll be super boring, and I’m already dragging you to Penny’s reception that night. I figured we’d want to do something more fun during the day.”
He bumped his knee against hers. “You should go. I’ll go with you and charm all your colleagues.”
She smiled at the thought. “I have no doubt you could.”
“At least I’m good for one thing.” He gave a disdainful head shake. “Gotta keep ’em dazzled so they don’t notice I can’t hold up my end of the conversation.”
“Hey.” She hated hearing him talk about himself like that. “You’re just as smart as anyone I know, mister.”
He snorted. “My SAT scores would beg to differ.”
“You had untreated ADHD issues. And who gives a shit about the SAT? Our class valedictorian flunked out of LSU his freshman year because he couldn’t handle the stress. High SAT scores are not an accurate predictor of professional success.”
Dylan reached for the third bottle of hot sauce, changing the subject again. “What’s this one? You haven’t even opened it.”
“Too afraid.” She’d picked it up at a farmer’s market because she’d liked the name: El Chupacabra.
“You think it’s that bad?” Dylan asked, grinning as he peeled off the plastic seal around the cap.
“I don’t know. Try it.”
He squinted at the label through his glasses. “It says it’s made with seven of the world’s hottest peppers.”
Brooke couldn’t resist goading him. “What are you? Chicken? I’ve never seen Dylan Price back down from a hot sauce challenge.”
He twisted the cap off the bottle and shot her a taunting look. “I’ll do it if you do it.”
“Fine,” she agreed, knowing she was going to regret it.
“There you go.” He held up his fist for a pound and explode, grinning when Brooke supplied it. “Solidarity. That’s friendship.” He doused a chicken wing with El Chupacabra sauce and passed it to her. “Here you go. Here’s your wing.”
She examined it warily while he doctored another one for himself. The smell was already burning her nasal passages. This was definitely going to hurt.
“You got yours?” she asked, realizing too late that she didn’t have any milk in the fridge that wasn’t expired. Probably should have thought of that before she agreed to this.
“I’m ready,” Dylan said. “You ready?”
