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“You got me a little drunk,” she accuses while prodding a finger into my chest.
“If that is the reason you want to tell yourself for letting your guard down, well, okay, you had a few sangrias over a few hours. No more than Teagan, but maybe more than Alice.”
“Teagan’s taller,” Ophelia counteroffers as an excuse, folding her arms as though her point will get taken more seriously.
“I think more factors need to get taken into consideration like weight—”
“Whatever,” she growls, but she still hasn’t moved out of my personal space.
Winning.
Alice is grinning while sneaking more photos. I can see she’s on Team Tucker when she gives me a thumbs-up, and again I must table the Dwayne Johnson grin that wants to break out all over my face.You know, The Rock and that big smile he gives his audience because he can back it up. His middle name is “Confidence.”
“Shakespeare, do you want to kiss me?” May as well stir the pot.
“What? No… W-what?” she stammers before looking down at the ground while taking a determined step back from me. I wink and give a flick of my wrist, silently telling my big sister to skedaddle. “I’m not myself. I’m a little tipsy.”
I spread my hands wide in innocence.“You are an adult. You could have stopped any of us from refilling your glass, or you can admit you were enjoying yourself and letting your hair down and just going with it because it felt good to be relaxing with good company and outstanding food.” She would only have had four sangrias, but it is a potent recipe.
“I don’t want to let Alice down,” she says quietly, her features softening. “I like her. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” My heart does a backflip. She already cares too much for my big sister.
I know Ophelia won’t be able to wriggle out of my sister’s request. I’ll put money on it.
“Alice adores you.” Yeah, I’m playing dirty.
“I need to get home.”
“Do you?” It’s an unfair playing field. I’m sober. She is not.
Ophelia’s face shows uncertainty like she hasn’t got a solid reason for not staying, other than we have only known each other face-to-face for less than twelve hours.
“I have no pajamas.”
“Naked works for me.” I do not tell a lie.
I watch as she considers the idea, ignoring my comment.
She shoves me gently. “Are you always this insufferable?” My inner caveman loves it when she grumbles because it is her only defense against me. The woman is selfless and a hard worker. She doesn’t like to let anyone down, and I got all that from Alice’s interrogation questions. “We are friends. Nothing more.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t start that again.”
“Sure.”
Ophelia grumbles under her breath. I try not to smirk. I am playing dirty, but I am on a tight schedule to win her over because Jensen is waiting in the wings.
“I won’t see you again for ten weeks, and I like seeing you, Shakespeare, so you can’t blame me for wanting to keep you here overnight.” I watch as Ophelia works my words through that beautiful head of hers, contemplating what I just said to her.
I’m playing it directly, which she thought I had given up on.
Sorry. Not sorry.
I hold out my hand. “Come with me. You and I have had enough sun.”
Ophelia hesitates to take my hand, staring at it like it means more than a friendly gesture. Can’t say I’m not enjoying playing dirty.
I wave my left hand. “This is my friendly hand”—I hold the right one in the air—“this is my naughty hand.” I jam it into my jeans pocket. “You should be so lucky as to witness what my right hand can do.” I deliver a Dwayne Johnson.
