Page 108 of Red Marked

I don’t doubt it, since Flint was all over me. My face heats some more.

“Could you go in…to the ice cream store?”

He looks down at himself. “What, like this?”

“Yes…please.” I clasp my hands under my chin. “You could get some napkins and maybe buy another scoop. You can say it was an accident, which it was, and then, while you’re there…” I let the sentence hang and chew on my lip.

His eyebrows lift. “You want me to spy on your ex for you?”

“Please. Sorry.” I wince. “He looked like he was into her.”

Flint’s eyes fill with concern and maybe a little pity, which I hate. “I have to say, it’s a little strange that he would take her to your spot. The one you guys shared.”

“They do make good ice cream.” I shrug.

“They do.” He nods, then looks at his lap again and lets out a groan. “Okay. Fine. I could do with a few napkins, and I’ll get you some more Rocky Road.”

He tips the mess back into the cup, wipes his hands on the one napkin we have, and gets out. A glob of chocolate slides off his pants and hits the sidewalk. He looks at it and then at me through the open door.

I press my lips together, but the laugh gets out anyway.

“Sorry,” I say around it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” He shuts the door.

I watch him walk up the street with the cup held out in front of him. He doesn’t look back. He pushes the store door open and disappears inside.

I slide down in my seat and wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It takes forever. I count cars. I check the side mirror and fix my hair, which is a mess because of his hands. My lipstick is gone. I can still taste him. I press my knuckles to my mouth and keep my eyes on the store door.

Why am I agonizing more about the kiss than I am about Jett with another female?

What’s wrong with me?

When Flint finally comes out, he’s carrying a single paper cup. His pants are damp down one thigh, but they’re pretty clean.

“Here you go.” He gets in, hands me the cup, and gives me a napkin.

“You are an angel.”

He starts the car and pulls out. “We’d better go before they come out. I’m sure you don’t want my tongue down your throat again.”

I don’t say anything because I don’t hate the idea.

I dig my spoon into the Rocky Road.

“I also don’t want any more ice cream down my pants.” He smirks at me.

I snort out a laugh so hard I almost spray Rocky Road across the dash.

“Okay.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Tell me. I’m ready. Were there rings? Did he call her sweetheart? Did they finish each other’s sentences?”

“Actually, no. I don’t think they’ve been dating long. He was helping her choose flavors. You could see he didn’t really know what she liked.”