Page 37 of That Rush

He stops walking. “She turned down one invitation.”

“She’s turned down several.”

“How many times have you asked her on a date?”

“I invited her to the cookout.”

“With half the family and your six-year-old.”

“She knew I wanted her there.”

“Did she know you wanted her, or did she think you were filling another chair at a family event?”

I yank open the shed door, and it swings back and cracks against the wall. “She knows I’m attracted to her.”

Axel follows me inside. “Because you told her?”

“I’m fairly obvious.”

“That might be the most arrogant thing you’ve said this month.”

“It’s only Wednesday.”

He laughs while I shove the sorting flags onto their hooks. “You like her.”

“I’m attracted to her.”

“You memorized the title of her filthy book.”

“Because she challenged me.”

“She declined an invitation and read a book in your general vicinity. Neither one makes her difficult.”

“She enjoys watching me scramble for my footing.”

“Probably because you keep approaching her like she should be grateful for access to the Slade calendar.”

“I invited her to a cookout with my family. That’s welcoming, not demanding.”

“It’s demanding when the invitation is a summons.” He crosses his arms. “A woman having plans she likes more than potato salad isn’t a personal insult, Aiden.”

I give him the kind of look that ends conversations.

He lifts both hands. “Sadie taught me a few things.”

Dismissing him would be easier. But then I picture Paige on her porch, content with her hammock and her book. I see her in the library aisle, chin tipped up, refusing to retreat.

I can keep calling her difficult. It’s a good story, and it protects my pride. Or I can ask her for what I want and give her the chance to say no.

Axel studies my face. “You’re going into town, aren’t you?”

“I have an errand.”

“At the library?”

I grab my keys from the shelf.

He laughs, then calls after me, “Tell Paige your brother says hello.”