Scorched (Frigid #2)(14)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

“I got it.” Facing me, I could clearly see myself reflected in the silver aviator-style sunglasses he’d slipped on. Damn, he looked good in them. Air Force pilot hot.

“I can carry it,” I insisted while Kyler headed around the SUV. Syd was behind him, carrying an armful of plastic bags.

Tanner grinned as he stepped back, holding the stuffed piece of luggage out of my grasp. “Grab the leftover bags. I’ll carry this.” He pivoted around.

We’d stopped at the grocery store in town and there was a load of groceries in the back, enough to feed an army. Grabbing two paper bags, I lifted them out, eyeing him warily. “Are you trying to get laid or something? Because I know going a whole week must be hard for you and all.”

Tanner stopped and then turned back to me. One brow rose above the rim of his sunglasses. “Now, come on, Andy. There’s no such thing as trying when it comes to this.”

My eyes narrowed as I walked to where he stood. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He lowered his head so that we were almost eye level. His lips tipped up at the corners and he spoke in a voice only I could hear. “If I wanted you, I’d have you.”

What in the holy hell hotcakes? My jaw hit the gravel as I barked out a short laugh. “Oh, wow. That’s cocky.”

One shoulder rose. “Nah, just confident.”

I snorted. “Or really optimistic in a special kind of dumb way.”

He laughed under his breath as I shifted the bags in my arms. “Let’s make a bet, Andy.”

“Stop calling me that,” I ordered, but hated—absolutely loathed—the breathlessness of my voice. I wanted to punch it out of my chest. Or him. Yeah, punching him would be better. “And I’m not making any bets with you.”

I walked around him, stomping on the gravel with my sandaled feet. I’d taken a few steps when he said, “That’s because you know you’ll lose.”

Halting suddenly, I almost tripped over my own feet. I whipped around, facing him once more. He did not just say that. No way. “Excuse me?”

Tanner’s grin and walk were full of swagger as he strolled on past me. “Yeah, it is. You know you’ll be under me by the time we leave this cabin.”

Chapter 5

Tanner

Andrea’s cheeks matched her hair, and that was…it was cute. I didn’t do cute. Or at least I didn’t until now. Now I was all about the cute—the Andrea kind of cute.

I knew I should’ve felt like an ass for saying what I did, but I didn’t. No regrets. None whatsoever. Heading up the porch steps, I realized I had no idea what that said about me.

And I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t know what I was starting, because I did. I fucking knew exactly what I was provoking, but I had no game plan when it came to how this was going to end—no clue. And I always had a game plan.

Or, in other words, an exit strategy.

I’d always been a “no relationship” kind of guy. Everyone knew that. It wasn’t that I ruled them out completely, but I didn’t go there unless I really wanted to go there. Something fucking bizarre had happened between Friday night and this morning, because I knew I wanted to go there with Andrea. I couldn’t put a finger on what exactly had happened to cause that and I wasn’t sure why it was even Andrea. Why not Brooke or Mandie? Or Lea? Never once had they made me want to slam my face into a wall, and Andrea had brought me to the edge of crazy many times over.

Shit. I knew enough, to be honest. Andrea gave as good as she got. She was smart, and when she wasn’t pissing me off, she was funny. And there were moments she could be the sweetest thing, and not just when she was falling asleep. None of that was news, but why now?

I honestly didn’t have an answer for that.

“Holy crap,” Andrea breathed, staring up at the cabin as she walked up the steps to the wrap-around porch. “How did you guys end up with this place?”

I stepped aside as she stopped beside me. Looking at the wide wrought-iron entry door and the floor-to-ceiling window across the front, the cedar log cabin was a McMansion. Big enough for more than just the four of us, an entire soccer team could be housed comfortably in this place, but I was glad I wasn’t going to have to fight a shit-ton of guys for Andrea’s attention this week.

“My mom knows the owner,” Kyler answered, shoving the key in the door. His mom ran a hugely successful bar restoration company, which afforded some hellish contacts. “So, we lucked out with this.”

“I’ll say.” Andrea grinned as she glanced at me. I expected to be on the receiving end of one of her death glares, but the grin had reached her eyes, warming them. “I cannot wait to see what the inside looks like.”

Kyler pushed open the doors and a rush of cold air greeted us. Letting Andrea head in before me earned me an arched look, which I returned with a grin. She shook her head as she crossed the threshold.

She came to a complete stop, and I nearly plowed into her back—definitely not in the fun way either.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping to the right. An awed look crossed her pretty face as she took in the high ceilings and the exposed rafters, the huge fans and skylights above the sitting room. I couldn’t believe, with the kind of money she came from, that this was the first extremely nice home she’d seen.

I’d have bet she grew up in something like this.

“It’s beautiful.” She turned that grin to Sydney. “Wow.”

“And you haven’t seen the rest. Kyler’s mom sent us pictures of it. There’s a living room on the other side of the kitchen, then a sunroom. Five bedrooms upstairs—three of them have their own bathrooms.”

“And there’s a media room in the basement, fully loaded,” Kyler added.

That caught my attention.

We crossed into a room I wasn’t sure had a purpose other than to look nice. With its white wicker furniture and thick cushions in pristine condition, I would bet money no one had ever used it. The stairs leading up were to the left, just outside the kitchen, and Jesus, the kitchen was bigger than my mom’s kitchen and living room back at home.

Andrea stared at the stainless-steel vent hanging from the ceiling above the gas grilltop stove. “I’m going to make this kitchen my bitch.”

Sitting the luggage down, I pushed my sunglasses up. “You can cook?”

She shot me a long look. “Yes. I can do things other than drinking my weight in liquor.”