Fearless For Love (Lovelly #3) Read Free Page B

meet my glare.
    I point two fingers at him, then turn them to point at my eyes. “Eyes up here, buddy.”
    He grins, not even slightly embarrassed at being caught.
    Unbelievable.
    “You watching?” I ask, turning back around, getting into position, and letting the rock fly, turning my body gracefully with the movement.
    “Do you throw rocks often?” he asks.
    I quirk an eyebrow and place my hands on my hips. “What do you think?”
    “I asked you first.” He grins. “Tell me, how did you learn to throw rocks? Is this like a hobby?”
    I tilt my head to the side and eye him. I’ve worked at a bar for over two years now; I know flirting when I see it. And this guy’s definitely a full-on flirt. But there’s something a little off about the way he’s flirting. Almost like he’s doing it just to annoy me. And damn if I don’t find that intriguing. Not that I’ll give him the satisfaction of knowing it’s working.
    I shake my head. “Want to give it a try?”
    He waves his hand. “I think you should show me again. I didn’t quite catch it the last time.”
    I shrug and pick up another flat rock. I get in position, but he calls out “Wait!” from behind me. He walks forward so that he’s standing parallel to me. “Okay, now go.”
    I arch a questioning eyebrow.
    He shrugs. “Your ass is very distracting.”
    I burst out laughing. “At least you’re honest. I’ll give you that.” I adjust my feet and get back in position. “Okay. So, once you’re here, flick your wrist as fast as you can, so that the rock spins like this.” This time, I get six skips. “See? Easy.”
    His eyes light up. “Yeah. Let me try.” He searches for a rock and picks one up.
    I shake my head. “Too bulky.”
    He reaches for another.
    “Too stubby.”
    He shoots me a look and mumbles something incoherent under his breath.
    Finally, I pick one that I know will skip with ease and hand it to him. He gets into position. I watch his form and the way he moves his arm; he pitches it forward like he’s throwing a right hook, releasing the rock too early.
    “Well, shit,” he exclaims, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. The tips of his ears turn red.
    “Here, try again,” I say, selecting another stone and holding it out to him with an encouraging smile.
    And so he does. Over and over again. And again. Each time, I give him tips on the things he’s doing wrong. After his twenty-first try, I finally say, “Okay. Stop. Stop. Stop .”
    He looks at me, his expression defeated. It’s so adorably cute, I might just give him that ten rating after all. The way his shoulders slouch slightly reminds me of the time I started teaching Vincent’s youngest brother, Chucky, how to skip stones. We’d spent almost two hours trying to get his rock to skip. But when his last one sank, he stared up at me with big round eyes and fell to ground, crying his little heart out.
    I guess when it comes to disappointment and failure, age really doesn’t change much.
    “Okay, let’s see.” I pace back and forth, tapping my chin as I think. With the little Gallos I pretty much had to hold their hands and guide them. But this guy isn’t exactly a kid, and that would definitely not be in my comfort zone.
    For a second, I consider calling it a day. After all, why do I care if a complete stranger can’t skip rocks?
    But then I shake my head. No. That’s just my fear talking. I’m fine, it’s just a little hand holding. It’s not a big deal. I can do this. I’m not afraid.
    So I pick up a handful of good rocks and pocket them. “Okay, we’re gonna try something a little different. Give me your hand.”
    He looks at me, his head tilted, that cocky smirk playing across his lips and mischief dancing in those bright hazel eyes.
    “Just trust me, okay? I’ve done this before. I’m going to guide you,” I explain, pointing to his hand.
    His grin widens, a small dimple appearing at the corner of his lips.
    Why is he smiling like