Megan answered, although nobody was really listening. He swiped the beer from Emma’s hand right as she was about to take a swallow. He wiggled his brows and helped himself to her beer taking a pull. “It’s Sophia.” “Sophia James?” Em spit the name, needing to grab hold of the edge of the table to keep from smacking him upside the head. She’d been kidding about the slut remark, but in She’s case…well, she was a slut. “Why her? You can do better.” He handed her back her beer, raised his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets. Problem was, the move made him look absolutely adorable transforming her anger to lust. He said, “I like her. She’s nice.” “Why?” she couldn’t stop saying the word. “Why?” “Nice” was that his version of “she puts out.” “I better get back.” He tugged at the fabric of his gray Henley like it was sweaty and clinging to his chest, which, it actually was clinging to his chest, a chest she’d seen bare countless times.
