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Interested in the answer, British perked up. Donovan struck her as the type of man who didn’t have to say a word to get a woman to notice him. He just needed to stare at her one good time with those piercing light brown eyes, maybe even lick his lips together, and a woman would go crazy or at least feel a trail of goose bumps traveling down her arm. British shivered and smoothed her hand over her biceps.
“You just keep doing what you’ve been doing,” Donovan went on to say.
“Even if it means I should not do my best at this competition?”
Wait, what? No way in the world would she ever tell one of her girls to dumb herself down for a boy. From where she stood, British could see Donovan’s jaw twitch. He rolled his head from side to side, causing a crack in his neck.
“Look here,” he said to Stephanie. “There is nothing se—” Donovan stopped while British cringed. Maybe it was time she stepped in to end this conversation. But Donovan recovered and continued. “There is nothing more attractive than a woman with a brain.”
“Are your girlfriends smart?”
“I don’t do girlfriends,” Donovan quipped, “but if I did, I’d like her to have a brain and not be worried about hurting my feelings.”
“Ms. B doesn’t mind hurting your feelings,” Stephanie offered. British narrowed her eyes. “And she is smart.”
“And beautiful,” Donovan mused.
British’s heart thumped against her ribs. This was so silly, to feel giddy knowing he found her attractive.
“But we’re talking about you and—”
“Quandriguez,” said the precocious teen.
“Well, if this Quandriguez can’t see how wonderful and smart you are right now, he isn’t worth your time.”
“Really?” Stephanie squealed in delight.
“Scout’s honor,” said Donovan as he straightened.
British couldn’t see what he was doing but Stephanie giggled. “That’s not the Scout symbol.”
“It isn’t?”
“There’s not a boy in Southwood who hasn’t been through the Scouts,” said Stephanie. “I know that salute.”
Donovan’s chuckle at being caught made British snicker and expose her location.
“Miss British?” Donovan called her name and the deep sound of his voice sent a chill down her spine. “Is that you?”
“I’m sorry,” said British as she stepped around the corner. “It wasn’t my intent to eavesdrop on y’all’s conversation.”
Stephanie came to her feet from her spot in the plush, white-cushioned chair by the bay window. “It’s cool,” she said. “Mr. Donovan was just giving me some good advice.”
“Followed by the wrong salute?” British crossed her arms over her chest. The thin green sweater suddenly felt too warm and itchy.
Donovan had dressed appropriately for the fall weather. The long-sleeved, garnet T-shirt hugged a well-toned body. “We were just discussing the age-old debate about if a boy is mean to you it must mean he likes you.”
Considering the fact that Donovan was always a source of joy to be around, British realized where she stood with him.
With a bow, Donovan pressed his hand over his heart. “I, for one, am against that theory.”
“Are you?”
“It sets girls up to accept abuse or mistreatment early on,” Stephanie explained.
Such a professional tone from the girl who chewed gum to a rhythmic beat in class caused British to quirk a brow and shift her stare between the two of them. “Interesting.”
“It is,” replied Donovan. “I’m a firm believer in being sweeter.”
