Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3), стр. 44

But for some reason, the thought of being alone with Chase Blastoviak had unsettled me a lot more than it should've.

It's not that I thought he'd try anything.

Mostly and embarrassingly, it was that I was almost wishing he would. And then, I'd be hating myself for wishing something so incredibly stupid.

For the last seven years, I'd been playing it safe – dating only nice, safe guys and sticking with nice, safe timelines.

I didn't have sex on the first date. Or the second. Or the third. Instead, I waited until I felt something resembling love before doing the actual deed.

This was smart.

I knew this.

But if I were being totally honest, safe wasn't cutting it. Not anymore.

If I were the type of person to shirk responsibility, I'd blame my sudden dissatisfaction on the guy sitting in the driver's seat.

Over the past month, I'd gotten to know Chase a little better. Sure, he could be a total jackass, but he also made me laugh. And he was incredibly smart, especially when it came to marketing.

My degree had been in a similar field – public relations – which meant that advertising, marketing, and all of those related activities were near and dear to my heart.

During the last month or so, I'd gotten a firsthand look at the way Chase operated, the way his mind worked, and the way he thought so far out of the box, the box might as well not exist.

Watching him weave his magic had been too intoxicating for my own good. His ideas were great – half insane sometimes – but so creative, I couldn’t help but admire him.

All of this would've been terrific if not for the other thing – the proverbial fly in the ointment of my life. Chase Blastoviak was quite simply the sexiest guy I'd ever met.

And now, thanks to him, I'd been questioning that whole play-it-safe plan, the one I'd been following for seven long years.

Suddenly, I was feeling like I needed a change.

Or maybe I just needed a quick dash of spice before returning to a nice, safe existence.

As far as Chase's question, I didn't know where to begin, or if I even wanted to. Something was definitely on my mind, alright.

When I didn't answer right away, he asked, "Is it the chicken thing?"

"Sorry, what?"

"The thing on your mind. You're thinking of getting some chickens. Am I right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh. "No."

"So hogs, then?"

I was still laughing. "No." He was obviously teasing me. And for once, it actually came across as sweet, which made no sense whatsoever.

Chase Blastoviak, sweet?

Not in a million years.

In that same teasing tone, he said, "You're thinking something."

Boy, was I ever. And one particular thought was so dangerous, I kept my lips stubbornly shut to make sure I didn't accidentally say it out loud.

Chase persisted. "If you want, I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

At this, I turned to face him. He looked surprisingly sincere, and I couldn’t help but smile. "Okay."

"But if I tell you," he warned, "you'll have to return the favor."

"Oh," I laughed. "So there are conditions, huh?"

He flashed me a shameless grin. "You know it."

His grin made my stomach flutter in ways that felt all too familiar. He'd been making my stomach flutter for weeks now, and it wasn't getting better. It was getting worse.

At first, the fluttering had been a tiny little thing, something hardly worth noticing. But now, my stomach was fluttering so hard, it felt like a flock of butterflies were trying to escape.

This wasn't good.

Bryce had made my stomach flutter, too – maybe not quite so intensely. Still, the sensation was a distressing blast from the past.

Until Chase, my stomach hadn't fluttered in years.

He said, "So, we have a deal, right?"

I considered his so-called deal. He would tell me what he was thinking, and in return, I'd tell him what I was thinking.

Happily, I had so many thoughts bouncing around in my brain that I could pick and choose at random. For example, part me was thinking that today was a lovely spring day while another part of me was thinking that I'd just love to get naked with the least-safe person I'd ever met.

Chase Blastoviak.

Fortunately, he found me repulsive.

Mental note. Stick with the weather.

Finally, I said, "Alright, it's a deal." I studied his profile. "So…what are you thinking?"

He gave me a long sideways glance. "You want the truth?"

"Definitely."

"I was thinking of renting some hogs."

"What?" I laughed. "You can't be serious."

But Chase wasn't laughing. "The hell I'm not."

"Oh come on," I said. "First of all, I don't think hogs are something you can rent. And second of all, why would you want to?"

"Why else?" he said. "Liver disposal."

"Whose liver? I hope you don't mean mine." I frowned. "Or my dad's."

"Eh, your liver's safe."

With growing unease, I asked, "And my dad's?"

"Also safe."

Well, that was a relief. "Alright, so…" I tried to think. "Whose liver are we talking about here?"

"This guy named Bryce."

I blinked. "Wait, you don't mean my Bryce?"

"Wanna bet?"

"But you don't even know him."

With a tight shrug, Chase returned his attention to the road. After a long moment, he said in a quiet voice, "He hurt you."

The statement, so simple and honest, caught me off-guard.

Yes. Bryce had hurt me, quite a bit, in fact. But Chase didn't know the details, and now I was worried that I'd somehow given him the wrong impression.

I tried for a laugh. "Yeah, well, it was just a bad breakup, that's all."

"No, it wasn't."

I asked, "But how would you know?"

"Easy," he said. "A dad doesn't go after some guy's liver for a bad breakup."

I saw his logic. Still, I wasn't quite prepared to concede the point. "But my dad didn't go for his liver. And neither did I. See? So it wasn't that bad, just like I said."

As I spoke, I turned forward once again and almost did a double-take. I'd been so engrossed in our conversation that I'd half-forgotten where we were going. The reminder came just in time as I spotted the