The Bad Boy's Dance by Vera Calloway Page B

patty.
                  “Hell no, you might poison me!”
                  “With what? Proper cooking?”
                  “What you think is proper cooking, you mean.”
                  My vow to be nice was getting harder and harder to maintain. I threw my hands up in defeat. “Whatever! You can help!”
                  He opened his mouth, probably to declare that he was going to be leading the operation, but I stopped the words by stuffing more lettuce in his mouth. He stopped, chewed, and looked at me like I was a new episode of his favorite show.
                  Shaking my head, I buttered up the frying pan and set it over the stove. “How much are you going to eat?” I inquired.
                  He picked up the bag and scooped five patties.
                  Did he think I’d give up the stove to him if he gave me more work? Hah!
                  “I’ll have the same,” I smirked. His eyes widened a fraction before a mischievous glint glowed in his cobalt eyes.
                  “You are a piece of work, Robello,” Asher shook his head. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you try to dance after you ingest an entire cow.”
                  Flipping two patties onto the sizzling pan, I spoke, accepting the challenge. “You mean you’re going to enjoy watching me whoop your ass while you nurse your stomach ache.”
                  Asher cut me a glance and before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my hips and set me away from the stove.
                  “We’ll see,” he agreed.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
    Poisonous Raisins Affliction
     
                 
     
    I was going to puke.
                  In general, food was my best friend. It gave Dana and Caleb a run for their money, in fact.
                  But scarfing down five burgers was madness. I may never eat again . What was I thinking?!
                  Asher watched me struggle to keep my food in my stomach, pleased. He’d won, naturally. He was patting his flat tummy in satisfaction while I was fighting not to regurgitate all over him. It would serve him right, though.
                  “I’ve got a few trash bags, just say the word,” Asher said oh-so- generously.
                  Nope, if I did puke, I was aiming for that attractive face of his. Let’s see that satisfied expression then.
                  “No need to feel too bad, though, you actually went through with it. I’ve never seen a girl eat like that-ever. And I’ve been around,” Asher went on, oblivious to my suffering.
                  I needed to move. It was the only way to stop the incessant cramps.
                  “You’re probably going to have to burn those calories to keep your figure though,” he said.
                  Okay, that was the last straw. I draw the line. My vow of niceness was null and void!

              I stomped from the kitchen, heading for the front door, but I ended up in a huge living room. There was a TV screen bigger than my bedroom wall mounted high, and Italian leather couches surrounding it. Delicate vases and china were stacked decoratively along the room.
                  This was a klutz’s worst nightmare.
                  Cursing Asher in my head, I edged along the room and escaped into another hallway, only to find myself completely lost again. Somewhere behind me, I could hear Asher calling me, but it was growing fainter.
                  What did I hope to gain from wandering off? The only reasonable explanation I could find for my behavior was that the five burgers I’d ingested were screwing with my brain.
                  The sound of a door unlocking stopped my progress. Yes! That must be where the