The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) by Piper Sheldon (e book reader android txt) 📕

“I’m going to stop you right there,” he said.

“Cheater.” I dropped my hand to point at him.

“You’re the one who’s cheating,” he said. “It’s two truths and a lie. And no covering your face, come on.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“But you’ve already lied twice. You weren’t worried at all about flying that night in Denver and your eyes are not brown,” he said.

“Are you kidding me? You just stared into them.” I threw out my arms. So much for him paying attention.

“Exactly. So I’m an expert. They aren’t brown. Maybe in a poorly lit room a buffoon would classify them simply as brown. But in this light, they’re a rich mahogany. Like a really expensive acoustic guitar that’s been buffed to gleam. There’s depth and texture. The edges have lighter flecks, more like an oak. But brown is weak. Brown is saying that the Mona Lisa is just a painting.” He shook his head like he was disappointed in me.

“Oh,” I said.

My eyes blinked rapidly, not sure where to look. I’d never been so aware of them. Was that true? Was it possible that he found that much depth there? My mouth closed when I realized it’d been hanging open. I swallowed, feeling completely flustered. How was I ever supposed to stay on track when he said things like that? He was so open and earnest. I told myself to clamp down the rush of adrenaline those words caused in me. Sanders talked like this to everyone. I was nothing special.

Eventually, I cleared my throat and said, “Stop trying to sidetrack me. You go, then.”

With no preamble, he said, “I have two younger brothers. I’m lactose intolerant. Carrots give me the hiccups.”

“You don’t have any siblings,” I said instantly. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I just knew. Maybe because he had only-child swagger.

“Dang. Yep.” He frowned. Well, frowned for him, which meant he was still smiling but his eyebrows sort of turned down at the sides. It was confusing but made sense to me. “Your turn,” he said.

“I can wiggle my left ear. I can also roll my tongue. My brother is three years younger.” My face was completely blank. I’m sure I was the textbook example of RBF.

“Your brother is older,” he said instantly.

I gaped at him. “Shit.”

“Tried to throw me off, did you? Let me see your tongue roll.”

I glared at him but then showed that not only could I roll my tongue, I could also sort of fold it in half and pinch it.

“Hot,” he said.

I laughed. “You can’t say that.” I tossed a pebble at him. “Your turn. We’re tied.”

“Not a comp—”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” I rubbed my hands together.

He took a breath. “You’re sick. I’m never playing Monopoly with you and Skip. It would destroy us.”

“Stalling.”

“I’ve only moved twice. I’ve broken three bones. I have a butterfly tattoo.”

“No broken bones,” I said.

This time his mouth dropped open. “How?” he asked seriously.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh my God. You have to show me that tattoo.”

“What!” He stood up. “No way. There’s no way you could have known about that.”

“Show me this tattoo,” I said threateningly.

I had no idea how I knew. Just like I had no idea how he knew so much about me. But I had to see that damn tattoo.

“No.” He crossed his arms looking genuinely upset that he lost that round. I had spotted the hidden ace up his sleeve.

“Show. Me.” I glared my most threateningly.

He reeled back with a grimace. “I’m going to regret this.” He turned to put his back to me and started to unbutton his pants.

“No.” I covered my mouth unable to contain my giddy excitement.

He lowered his pants just enough to show a tiny black tattoo at the base of his spine.

“It’s a butterfly.” I couldn’t stop the laughter. I couldn’t care less that I sounded like a crazed hyena. “You have a tramp stamp!” I had tears falling from my eyes I was laughing so hard.

He turned back to me and buttoned his pants. “I’ll have you know that this was done by one of the best artists in Denver. This beaut set me back a few hundo.”

In his defense, from what I was able to see, it was a beautiful tattoo. Black in a contemporary style with fine line work and clearly handled by a talented artist. I wanted more time to look at it but I couldn’t exactly ask him to let me stare at his ass.

Or could I? No, be a professional.

“How? Why? I must know everything.” I sat up and wiped the residual tears from my eyes.

“No,” he said haughtily. “You haven’t earned that story yet. Let’s move on.”

“Better than an ex’s name, I guess,” I said sobering.

“I would never do that. Everybody knows it’s bad luck. Plus, I’ve never loved anybody near enough for that sort of commitment.”

“Dark,” I said. I wanted to ask more but wasn’t about to delve into my past in exchange. Had that been a little skull hidden in the pattern of the wings?

“Your turn, Roxxo,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “That’s it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I’m out for blood now.”

“I thought it wasn’t a competition,” I said. He growled and I chewed on my lip to think. “I was proposed to by the guy who married Sienna Diaz. My parents forgot me so many times after school the bus route added a special stop just for me. I had two dogs growing up, Rex One and Rex Two.”

This time his answer wasn’t immediate but his eyes wrinkled a bit at the side. Suddenly, I feared I gave too much away. I fussed with some gravel at my feet as he sat back down in front of me.

“No dogs?”

“No dogs.” I shrugged. “Always wanted one though.” He looked like he was about to ask another question, so I quickly added, “I’m still winning.”

“Chris Hemsworth and I were born on the same day. I’ve never seen