âIf I kiss you, I probably wonât like it.â
Suz winked. âAnd then what motivation do I have to win the race? Iâd just toss you back into the pond for Daisy.â
Cisco drew back, startled. âThat wouldnât be good.â
Suz nodded. âIt could be horrible. You could be a wet kisser. Eww.â
âI really donât think I am.â His ego took a small dent.
âYou could be a licky kisser.â
âPretty sure Iâm just right, like Goldilockâs bed,â he said, his ego somewhere down around his boots and flailing like a leaf on the ground in the breeze.
âI donât know,â Suz said thoughtfully. âFriends donât let friends kiss friends.â
âIâm not that good of a friend.â
âYou really want a kiss, donât you?â
He perked up at these heartening words that seemed to portend a softening in her stance. âI sure do.â
âHope you get someone to kiss you one day, then. See you around, Cisco.â
Chapter One
Francisco Rodriguez Olivier Grant stared at the very petite, very darling woman dressing him down. Suz Hawthorne giving a man hell was an impressive sight despite her five foot two and a half inch size, due to the streaky blue-in-blond hair, strategically placed cheek studs, a tiny diamond stud in her nose and a miniscule silver loop in her right eyebrow. Though they were small and delicately designed, her tats spoke loudly of her rebel statusâa fragile red rose on one wrist, and a beautiful, delicate Celtic cross on the other. When a man adored a woman like he adored Suz, being in her line of fire was enough to nail a manâs boots to the groundâand his boots were nailed down good.
âHereâs the deal, so pay attention.â Suz put her hands on her rounded, feminine hips, guiding his eyes farther down her oh-so-delicious body. Well, he just knew her body would feel deliciousâif he could get his hands on it.
âIâm paying close attention.â
âAll right. I canât bring myself to call you Frog like everybody else does. Iâve never seen a man look less frog-like or toadly in my life. Thereâs nothing amphibious about you, beyond your ability to swim.â
He started to say, âI donât care what you call me as long as you call me,â then realized that would sound desperate. Or something. âThanks.â
âGood. Iâm glad thatâs settled.â
Suzâs brain was a wonder to contemplate, and right now, operating about two gears faster than his. Mainly because he was sidelined by what he belatedly recognized as surefire, 100 percent lust. âWhatâs settled?â
âYour name.â
He grinned at the sweet-ânâ-sassy bombshell, who was disarming him completely. âYouâre going to call me Francisco Rodriguez Olivier Grant every time you speak to me?â
âNo. From now on, youâre just Cisco.â
He took that in.
âPerhaps your silence means youâre not crazy about that. But Frog just isnât working for me.â
âFine. I donât care. Address me as Santa Claus if you want.â He got his swagger back and then some, kind of impressed that she wanted to call him Cisco. There were probably any number of legendary hanging, swinging badasses that had been called Cisco over time.
Not so many named Frog. Heâd been named Frog courtesy of his SEAL brothers, because he could outswim just about every man around.
âFrogâ was fine under certain conditions. But when a man wanted a woman thinking about himâand a dynamite package like Suz most particularlyâit was probably better to be a Cisco.
âNow that we have that settled, youâre going to escort me to the upcoming Bridesmaids Creek swim.â
âThe newly christened Cisco feels like heâs missing a bit of info. We just had a swim for Jade Harper and Ty Spurlock, which is why theyâre married, according to the tenets of the fabled charm, right? As I recall, I swam that race pretty quickly.â And he was none too pleased, because the way the rumor mill worked in Bridesmaids Creek, the prize for winning the swim was the woman waiting on the banks at the finish line.