“Come on, it’s just a name, Sunshine,” he continued, and glanced at the sky. “Not like I’m proposing to you or anything.” He shrugged. “It’s just a name.” His eyes drew back to mine, and his lips pulled back further, making his already-wide grin dangerous and wolfish looking. “And I’m not fuckin’ apologizing for that kiss. It was natural hot-blooded male gut instinct.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t help it.”
Couldn’t help it? So yes, to answer an earlier question to myself: He was kookoo. But if I simply gave him my name, maybe he’d just be satisfied and be done with it. He’d knocked me over and spontaneously kissed me; he’d make up for it by helping me. Done. Although I could easily unload the truck alone, I pinned him with a hard stare. “Only if you leave me alone afterward.”
He clapped his hands together sharply once and leapt into the back of the truck, and it bounced with his weight. “Sweet.” His gaze drifted over the contents in the bed, and then to the big black bag I’d shouldered. “What’s that?”
“Telescope,” I answered in a quiet tone. I noticed he hadn’t promised anything. I pushed another box closer to the tailgate with my boot, stepped off, and lifted it into my arms.
“So what are you, a weatherman or something?” His lips parted with another half-cocked grin. He grabbed a couple of boxes and balanced them, and jumped down beside me.
“Yes,” I answered in a quiet voice. “Or something.”
“Ah, I see,” he said. He walked close enough that our shoulders brushed.
I glanced at him but said nothing.
“You’re one of those wicked smart girls, aren’t ya? Like some foxy cowgirl Dexter’s Laboratory scientist or something?” He was smiling, looking down at me. Smaht.
Crude as he was, I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my mouth. I shook my head and shrugged. Foxy? “Something like that.” I pressed my lips together hard, trying to make the grin go away. I didn’t want it to be there, and I didn’t want it to encourage Brax Jenkins. It was nearly impossible.
When we reached the dorm entrance, Brax caught the door as a group of girls filed out. They all slid me an odd look, and one said, “Hey there, Brax,” in a husky voice, and then stared hard at me as she passed. Almost … challenging me. Daring me to interfere. Daggers, even. It was always so noticeable when girls flirted, and it looked and sounded stupid and immature. They never really knew what might lay behind good looks. Or an arresting pair of eyes. No matter how jolting of a kisser. I knew that first hand.
“Ladies,” he said. They all walked away, giggling and whispering. He held the door open for me, his eyes never leaving mine, and I pushed through.
“Fan club?” I asked as we hit the stairwell. At least people knew him; maybe I wouldn't get shanked after all. Kissed, apparently, but not shanked.
He chuckled and turned that odd gaze on me. “Something like that,” he said pointedly.
A half hour later, Brax set the last box down in my room. He rooted himself in front of me, his tattooed arms folded over his chest. Those eyes regarded mine, determined. One of his brows lifted. “Name?”
“Olivia Beaumont.” I stuck my hand out to shake his, like I’d been raised to do. “Thanks for the help. You can leave me alone now.”
Brax took my hand but his gaze stayed on my eyes, and his strong fingers wrapped around mine. The jolt of excitement that shot through me at his touch surprised me, but it was accompanied by alarm. I pasted a grin on my face and prayed there were no tell-tale signs of either. He actually seemed a little stunned that I’d even offered a handshake. Although he didn’t squeeze too hard, I could feel his strength radiating in his grip. A smile lifted one side of his mouth as he regarded me. “You got a middle name, Olivia Beaumont?”
“Were the first two not good enough?” I asked. When he continued to silently stare, I shook my head. Strange request, I thought, but I answered. “Grace,” I said, and then remembered to drop my hand.
His smile was full-blown, and it transformed his harsh features of scars and crudeness into something … else completely. Something that made my blood surge within me. It took me off guard. It could also possibly be the origin of his fan club. “Well, Gracie, I’ll see ya around.”
Brax turned his swaggering, lean form sideways at my open door, allowing a curvy brunette with blonde highlights to pass through. He looked over her head at me, winked, and left. The girl just stared after him, then turned to me, wide-eyed. She wore hot pink shorts, a white tank, and wedge sandals. Her hair was super straight, parted in the middle, and fell nearly to her waist. She carried a big zebra striped purse that rested against her hip.