Page 6 of Tennessee Whiskey

I raise my chin defiantly. “I am not a criminal. Mr. McEwen gave me permission to use his pond whenever I wish. I wasn’t aware the place had been sold yet,” I admit that last bit bitterly.

“How old are you?” he asks suddenly as he continues to study me.

He catches me so off guard that I answer him without thinking, “Eighteen.”

“So, you’re legally old enough to be tried as an adult,” he notes.

My eyes widen, and my heart begins to race at the thought of being arrested, but then I see the twinkle of humor in his eyes, and my scowl deepens.

Earlier that day he’d done nothing but scowl at me. I hate that he’s turned the tables so that now I’m the one permanently scowling.

“I’m sorry for trespassing on your land. I’ll just be on my way, and it won’t happen again.” I try to muster as much dignity as I can, standing tall as I deliver my edict. Although it pains me to apologize to him since he’s the one who’d been spying on me, I do it anyway.

I start to walk in the direction of my parents’ home, but he steps in my way, blocking my path.

I look up at him, noting the faint stubble on his jawline that only serves to enhance the angular lines of his face. He’s wearing that same dark button-up shirt he’d been wearing earlier, and my eyes can’t help being drawn to the exposed bit of his chest peeking out from the undone buttons. I quickly avert my eyes, praying to god he didn’t catch me ogling his chest. It should be against the law for a man to be as handsome as he is.

“I’ll forgive the offense on one condition,” he says.

My eyes flick up to him in a mixture of annoyance and trepidation. I’d already said I was sorry. What more could the man want?

I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at him, waiting.

He smiles devilishly, the full force of all his teeth showing mesmerizing. The man belongs on a magazine cover. I swear.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

I stare at him disbelievingly before I give a nervous laugh even as my heart speeds up, “You can’t be serious. I don’t even know your name.”

“Nick,” he supplies his name immediately, those golden eyes never leaving me as he gazes down at me. I don’t know how old this guy is, but I think it’s safe to say he’s more experienced than I am. Guy isn’t even the right term for him. He’s a man if I ever saw one.

A dangerous-looking man. The kind of man that daddies warn their daughters about. He vibrates with a dangerous sexuality like he can make girls drop their panties with one smoldering look.

And I am not about to be another notch in his belt. Nope. No way.

* * *

Nick

“Well, Nick,” she enunciates my name sassily with a toss of her head, “I realize we’re going to be neighbors now, but I don’t think so.”

Everything about her captivates me. Her fiery spirit, the way she fights me every step of the way.

She’s nothing like the women who throw themselves at me once they find out my name and how much money I’ve got.

Something tells me even if I told her my last name, she wouldn’t give a shit. Hell, she might not even recognize it.

That’s more fucking freeing that I ever thought it could be.

My dick’s been hard ever since I saw her floating around in my pond in her bra and panties. They were white and simple, yet they’d looked so perfect clinging to her wet skin, that flaming red hair fanned out around her in the water like she was a mermaid or something.

“Say it again,” I order her.

Her little brow furrows as she clarifies, “There’s no way I’m going to have dinner with you.”

“Not that part,” I shake my head at her.

Her little brow furrows adorably.


Tags: Emma Bray Romance