You have got to be kidding me.
Chapter 32
Ben
Cypress Creek, Texas
Sunday morning
My nose is throbbing and I’m choking on the cascade of smooth powder covering my face, when across the kitchen I catch Cybil moving toward the island. I open my mouth to let her know it’s me, but I suck in another lungful of... What is this? The tasteless powder turns into a paste on my tongue—flour.She hit me with a bag offlour?
Oof.I’m hit in the stomach by something hard and round. Through the moonlight I see Cybil clutching a bowl of fruit, her arm ready to lob—
An apple. I dodge to the left and the fruit smacks the refrigerator with enough force I know she’s not playing around. She means to harm me.
“Cyb—”
“What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer and throws more fruit at me, one after another, forcing me to dodge and weave like I’m fighting a fruit ninja. When I think she’s run out, I rise to my full height. “Uncle Buddy’s birthday.”
“Liar!”
I don’t see the banana until she’s released it like a boomerang and it nails my arm hard enough it splits, splattering banana guts all over me.
“I’m not—”
Cybil darts around the island and I dart the other way. She opens a drawer and whips out a wooden spoon and chucks it at my head with a painful thwack.
I rub the spot and glare at her. “Dang it, Cybil, would you stop attacking me?”
“Not until you tell me why you’re lying.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to answer before she lifts another bowl, and I shake my head at her.
“Don’t you dare!”
Her hand wraps around an egg. “Tell me why you’re lying.”
“I’mnot.”
An egg flies at me, and I duck right. It cracks against the cabinet. The moonlight glints against the spark in her eyes and her lips tug into a wicked smile.Oh, this is war.
I growl and her gaze widens, and she immediately throws another egg. I duck left and it cracks against the counter. She tries again and I make a grab for it but miss. It breaks against my hand, sending a stream of slimy yolk through my fingers. She throws three more in rapid succession, and I bob and weave around the island to avoid them.
I go left, she goes left—another egg flies at my head. I go right, she goes right, and she takes aim again. At some point, she has to run out of eggs, right? Faking left, I go right and she’s within grasp. She arches her arm back, releases an egg, but this time I catch it—unbroken.
It takes a second, but I’m close enough to see the realization flash in her eyes that I’m the armed one now. She backs away and I toss the egg in my hand and catch it, smiling.
I stalk her with slow steps, enjoying the game. My heart is thrumming against my chest because there’s a current of attraction I can no longer ignore. I close the space and Cybil backs into the counter with an abrupt stop, her eyes locked on mine.
But there’s no fear in them. “I dare you.”
“Aw, Billy, have you forgotten how much I love a good dare?”
A blast of cold water hits my face, and I throw my hand up to block it. Cybil has the sink’s sprayer aimed in front of her.
“Stop,” I sputter. The flour on my face is turning into something like a papier mâché mixture. I lunge for her, and she screams, dropping the hose. She darts around the island, but I’m quick and I round the other way and capture her in my arms. “Got y—”
