Read Online Bang: B-Squad Book Two by Avery Flynn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Avery Flynn
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and can fake the last one if you remember to make the conversation all about him, keep your knees together until he's giving gifts that are weighed in carats and seal your pretty mouth shut ninety-nine percent of the time.
"If I promise not to poison you, will that make it better or worse?" Isaac asked as he sat down across from her.
The question yanked her out of that dark place in her head where her mother's voice kept up a constant, whispered lecture and she replaced the exhausted worry on her face with a well-practiced smile. "I can see the pros and cons of both options."
She slid her napkin off her plate and smoothed it across her lap, willing her fingers to lose their nervous shake. Why did this man make her nervous? She'd been in the same position with billionaires, superstar athletes, and powerful politicians. None of them made her as aware of every nerve in her body as this man.
He grinned, making her stomach float and her heartbeat speed up. "And to think I left my arsenic at home."
Desperate to regain her equilibrium, she tried to picture his house. Probably lots of leather and wood and sports memorabilia—maybe with remote-controlled mood lighting or an oversized painting of dogs playing poker.
"Now what's that horrified expression for?" he asked, laughing.
"I was picturing what your house looks like."
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's a pool house. Lots of flowers and wicker."
"Now that's something I can't even picture." Nope. Isaac was all testosterone and sinewy muscle and sly charm. A dude living in a luau he was not.
"It's temporary," he said, the low tenor of his voice taking on a softer tone. "My mom's had a rough time of it since the accident a year ago."
"What happened?" The question was out before she could stop it, breaking the number-one rule of hooking-a-big-fish dating—keeping things light and fun.
"Drunk driver plowed into my mom and stepfather's car." His gaze dropped to his empty plate for a heartbeat and he clamped his jaw tight before looking back up, a worried anxiety turning his whiskey-colored eyes darker. "My stepfather died. My mom suffered a complex leg fracture, among other things. There was surgery, immobility and then physical therapy. Now she's almost one-hundred percent, which means she's six seconds away from threatening me with a shotgun to go out, find my own place, and hurry up and give her some grandbabies." He finished with a grin that did nothing to eliminate the worry lines carved into his forehead.
"Are you the only child?"
"I'm in the middle of six and the only boy. None of us are married or even looking that way, and it's making her crazier than skillet full of rattlesnakes." This time his smile reached all the way to his eyes.
"Where are you sisters?" Again she broke the dating rules and moved the conversation beyond her date and his many impressive accomplishments.
Isaac didn't seem to care. His whole body relaxed. "They're scattered from here to Alaska. There's Ariella, who flies tourists around in Alaska. Meira and Dalia—forever known as The Twins—run a dude ranch in Montana. Leah just opened up a business selling pot in Colorado. The baby, Shoshana, is about to get her Masters in architecture."
The pride he had in his close-knit family was obvious, and a mix of jealousy and bittersweet regret squeezed her lungs tighter with each breath. It hurt deep in that part of herself she blocked out as much as possible, so she did what she always did. She plastered a pageant-worthy smile on her face and kept the focus off herself.
"I'm trying to picture you growing up with sisters."
"I can do a double French braid in less than three minutes and I've bought more tampons than a thirty-one-year-old man should ever admit to."
Just the mental image of him with his cowboy boots, tight jeans and muscles standing in the middle of the tampon aisle at the grocery store short-wired her brain.
"So what about you?" he asked.
"It was just my mom, Amelia and
"If I promise not to poison you, will that make it better or worse?" Isaac asked as he sat down across from her.
The question yanked her out of that dark place in her head where her mother's voice kept up a constant, whispered lecture and she replaced the exhausted worry on her face with a well-practiced smile. "I can see the pros and cons of both options."
She slid her napkin off her plate and smoothed it across her lap, willing her fingers to lose their nervous shake. Why did this man make her nervous? She'd been in the same position with billionaires, superstar athletes, and powerful politicians. None of them made her as aware of every nerve in her body as this man.
He grinned, making her stomach float and her heartbeat speed up. "And to think I left my arsenic at home."
Desperate to regain her equilibrium, she tried to picture his house. Probably lots of leather and wood and sports memorabilia—maybe with remote-controlled mood lighting or an oversized painting of dogs playing poker.
"Now what's that horrified expression for?" he asked, laughing.
"I was picturing what your house looks like."
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's a pool house. Lots of flowers and wicker."
"Now that's something I can't even picture." Nope. Isaac was all testosterone and sinewy muscle and sly charm. A dude living in a luau he was not.
"It's temporary," he said, the low tenor of his voice taking on a softer tone. "My mom's had a rough time of it since the accident a year ago."
"What happened?" The question was out before she could stop it, breaking the number-one rule of hooking-a-big-fish dating—keeping things light and fun.
"Drunk driver plowed into my mom and stepfather's car." His gaze dropped to his empty plate for a heartbeat and he clamped his jaw tight before looking back up, a worried anxiety turning his whiskey-colored eyes darker. "My stepfather died. My mom suffered a complex leg fracture, among other things. There was surgery, immobility and then physical therapy. Now she's almost one-hundred percent, which means she's six seconds away from threatening me with a shotgun to go out, find my own place, and hurry up and give her some grandbabies." He finished with a grin that did nothing to eliminate the worry lines carved into his forehead.
"Are you the only child?"
"I'm in the middle of six and the only boy. None of us are married or even looking that way, and it's making her crazier than skillet full of rattlesnakes." This time his smile reached all the way to his eyes.
"Where are you sisters?" Again she broke the dating rules and moved the conversation beyond her date and his many impressive accomplishments.
Isaac didn't seem to care. His whole body relaxed. "They're scattered from here to Alaska. There's Ariella, who flies tourists around in Alaska. Meira and Dalia—forever known as The Twins—run a dude ranch in Montana. Leah just opened up a business selling pot in Colorado. The baby, Shoshana, is about to get her Masters in architecture."
The pride he had in his close-knit family was obvious, and a mix of jealousy and bittersweet regret squeezed her lungs tighter with each breath. It hurt deep in that part of herself she blocked out as much as possible, so she did what she always did. She plastered a pageant-worthy smile on her face and kept the focus off herself.
"I'm trying to picture you growing up with sisters."
"I can do a double French braid in less than three minutes and I've bought more tampons than a thirty-one-year-old man should ever admit to."
Just the mental image of him with his cowboy boots, tight jeans and muscles standing in the middle of the tampon aisle at the grocery store short-wired her brain.
"So what about you?" he asked.
"It was just my mom, Amelia and
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