Page 115 of Cross Checked
“Betrayal,” I said.
Knox pointed his beer toward Cade. “So, are you two dating or are we all still pretending this is about school?”
The entire yard seemed to perk up like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire.
My stomach dropped.
Not because I didn’t expect it. I absolutely expected it. The Bennett men could ignore subtle emotional complexity for years, but put a man near me twice and suddenly they were forensic investigators with grill smoke in their hair.
“We’re not dating,” I said.
At the exact same time, Cade said, calm as anything, “Not yet.”
Silence slammed down for half a second.
Then the yard exploded.
Knox barked out a laugh so loud the family dog jumped. Emmitt almost dropped his beer. Kellen yelled, “Oh, I like him,” like his approval had been requested by literally anyone. Ryker’s eyes narrowed, not angry exactly, just interested in a way that made me want to shove Cade into the pool and flee the state.
I turned on him. “Not yet?”
Cade looked down at me with all that calm arrogance and no visible survival instinct. “What? You told me to be honest.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied nothing.”
His mouth curved. “You imply a lot.”
Heat crawled up my neck so fast I almost saw spots. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I should.”
“Probably.”
Kellen slapped Knox’s shoulder like he had just witnessed a game-winning goal. “They’re definitely dating.”
“We are not,” I said, far too loudly.
Cade leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough that only I could hear. “You’re very loud for someone with nothing to prove.”
I nearly choked on my own breath as the bastard smiled.
Dad watched all of this with the slow, amused expression of a man who had raised six children and survived enough romantic disasters around his kitchen table to know denial when he saw it. “Mercer,” he said, saving me from committing a crime in front of witnesses, “you eat ribs?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You play street hockey?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You mind losing to men with bad knees and worse attitudes?”
Cade glanced toward my brothers, then back at Dad. “I’m adaptable.”
