Clean Teen Publishing is proud to present a brand new release from Sherry D. Ficklin, Playing With Fire. Playing With Fire is book one in Ficklin’s newest series #Hacker.
“Thanks for dinner. No offence, but why do you want to spend your evening helping me unpack?” I ask after I swallowed and took a sip of soda. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
Everything about his behavior had my suspicious side on full alert, but his voice and body language put me at ease. He has the charisma of a southern gentleman, with eyes that practically danced with mischief.
He takes a breath, sticking his chopsticks in the box. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m trying to figure you out, I suppose.”
I feel myself make a face. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “I dunno. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone stand up for a stranger the way you did today. It’s odd…”
I raise one eyebrow, “You think I’m odd?”
He shifts, “No, not like that. But you just kind of, I dunno. I don’t know how to make it make sense. I just saw you and knew I wanted to know you better.”
I take another bite. “So this is a science experiment? Did you bring the chloroform? Because it’s not a party till someone brings the chloroform.”
“See, that’s why I wanted to get to know you better. You’re sharper than most girls I know. Quick and smart. And you clearly aren’t afraid of anything. So why haven’t you told me to get lost yet?” He asks with a smile.
“I don’t know. You kind of intrigue me too, I guess. You never do or say what I expect you to. It’s kind of annoying,” I point out.
“Fair enough,” He chuckles, “But kind of charming, too, right?”
I raise my eyebrow again. “I’m gonna stick with annoying. But we’ll see how the night goes.”
He clutches his hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. I smile and nudged him with my elbow. I don’t even think about it, but the moment it happens, something curls into a ball in my stomach. It feels, easy. Warm.
“So, are you going to put me to work or what?” he asks as I scrape the bottom of my mostly-empty takeout box.
“I warn you, I am a bit of a slave driver,” I joke, getting down from the counter and tossing my empty container back into the bag.
His eyes sparkle impishly. “I hoped as much.”
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