Page 70 of A Little Secret
A stupid.Stupid.Goldfish.
“You might want to be more subtle when you’re butthurt,” Finley announces behind me.
I slap the cabinet closed and face her, folding my arms with a glare.
“Like that,” she quips. “How were the games?”Rounding the center island, she searches the cupboards for a glass in nothing but a pair of boxers and a baggy T-shirt. It’d be innocent on anyone else, but Fin? Somehow, she manages to make the ragged clothes look like fuckin’ lingerie. When she stands on her tiptoes, her calves flex, and I can’t help but notice her bubblegum pink toenails.
“They were fine.” I tear my attention from the view, letting my stare linger on her round ass briefly, and clear my throat. “Heard you had a girls’ night while I was gone.”
“So?”
“So, you haven’t told them yet.”
She glances at me, then peeks over her shoulder toward the main hallway to confirm we’re still alone. Satisfied, she finds a glass, answering, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Denial,” I note. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re awfully good at avoiding shit, Fin.” I step closer to her until her ass hits the counter. Call me a dick, but after the rollercoaster she’s had me on since the hotel, my patience is less than none.
She gulps but keeps her head held high. “Not sure what you’re referring to, but?—”
“You mean, other than the baby?” A humorless laugh escapes me. “I’m referring to you climbing into my bed at the hotel and then rejecting my kiss on New Year’s.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. Probably because I don’t usually talk to her like this, but after the radio silence and her walking around the house like everything’s normal, then being around her brother for the past few days, shit’s messing with my head. I’m tired of playing her game. Of letting her make the rules.
“Where’s my brother?” she demands.
“Tell me why you gave me the cheek.”
She bites the edge of her mouth, looking cagey as shit. “Griff, I didn’t?—”
“You did.”
Her tongue darts out between her pretty pink lips. “You really want to play this game?”
“I’m not the one playing,” I remind her. “You are.”
“Fine. I didn’t want to send you mixed signals.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” I growl. “You kissed me first.”
“Yeah, and then you rejected me.”
“I didn’t reject you,” I all but snarl. My fingers dig into the countertop behind her, and I take a deep breath. This girl is infuriating. “I…figured we should take things slow,” I grit out. “So you wouldn’t regret anything.”
“What’s there to regret?” she offers. “Nothing happened.”
“You’re right. It didn’t.”
“Exactly,” she quips. But her eyes? Her eyes say it all.
They fall to my chest like she can’t even look at me. Like she’s guilty. Like she’s embarrassed.
Ashamed.
And damn, if it doesn’t get to me.