Home > Books > Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(73)

Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(73)

Author:Ilsa Madden-Mills

Dog trots to the pantry door and sits. I narrow my eyes at him. “This better not be another one of your lies.”

He sneezes, throwing slobber everywhere.

I move him out of the way, then fling the door open. It’s a big pantry, lined with shelves on either side. Lois organized it—canned goods in order on the left, dry goods on the right.

Nova reclines on the back wall, not a flicker of surprise on her face as she munches on a vanilla wafer.

“Found you,” I growl.

She pops another one in her mouth and chews. “Took you long enough, jock. These are so good. My mama used to use them to make the best banana pudding. I think I want to try her recipe.”

I plop down next to her, and she hands me the box.

“How many can you get in your mouth at once?” she asks. “I did three. Nearly choked. That’s when the can of peas fell. I guess you heard it?”

I pop an eyebrow. “Yep. Let’s see. I bet I can get five. You on?”

“Stakes?”

“A boon.”

Her full lips curl up. “You’re on. You have to eat them all at once.” She hands over a water bottle. “You’ll need this, which I stole from your amazing pantry. You could throw a small party in here.”

“I’d call my pantry . . . lavish.”

She snorts.

“Let’s do this.” I take her water and twist off the top.

She hands me five, and I open my mouth and cram three in, then four, then five. My cheeks puff out, and she giggles as I tilt my head and chew and chew and chew.

“I’m here if you need the Heimlich,” she says.

I swallow and guzzle the water. I stick my tongue out, and she claps.

“I’m a badass,” I say.

Her eyes roll. “God, you’re so easy. I knew you’d get five. Don’t be so arrogant.”

“So you just wanted to see me make a fool of myself?”

“I should have asked you to put a bra on first.”

“When is everyone going to forget that?”

“Never ever, ever, ever.”

I toss an arm around her shoulders, and she leans against me. A feeling of contentment rises as the moments tick past. “I’m ready for my boon.”

“What is it?” She gazes up at me.

“You never told me your secret the night of the dart game.”

Her chin gets a defiant tilt, one I’ve come to recognize. “That was an emergency—my foot hurt, and then I saved your ass from the sheriff—so that boon is null and void. You can’t repeat it.”

“Look at you. Getting all territorial over one little secret. You must have hundreds. I don’t see what the big deal is . . .” I grin.

“Technically, I told you about accidentally stealing Ryan Reynolds’s toilet thingy. No one knows that.”

“Accidentally, right.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even tell your old roommate?”

“No.” She winces. “What if it’s worth money, like it’s fourteen-karat gold? What if it was a family heirloom? What if—”

“Damn, you’re cute. I should call him up and tell him.”

“You know him?”

“Hmm. I know lots of famous people. He follows me on Insta.”

“Pompous ass.”

I smile. “Have you ever wondered why we keep meeting in closets?”

“Technically, this is a lavish pantry.”

“Feels the same. Just me and you, and the whole world is out there. Like we’re alone,” I murmur and trace my fingers over her shoulders.

“Technically, we are.”

“Smart-ass.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“Tell me another secret. I insist.”

Her fingers trail down my forearm to my hand, light teasing touches over my fingers but not quite taking my hands. Tingles ripple over me.

“Okay, here’s one: I’m kind of disappointed in you,” she murmurs.

“Why?”

Her fingers dance back up my chest, then toy with the neck of my tank top. “You asked for a boon, and all you want is a silly secret.”

“I want to know you.”

“Hmm, but knowing me is a dangerous thing, isn’t it?”

I pause, seeing that serious glint in her eyes. “Yes.” I stare at her lips. “What should I ask for, then?”

She moves her body and settles herself gently in my lap.

I groan, long and guttural.

With her hands on my shoulders, she swivels her luscious ass over the bulge in my joggers. “If I were you, I would have asked for a kiss . . . or something else . . .”

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