“You seem a little flustered,” Chase said. “More like repulsed.” But if I was being honest, it was a bit of both. It was unsettling how my mind and body were at such odds when it came to him. Clearly, I was rebounding. And a little drunk. He took a sip of his beer, sizing me up. “I hope you’re not a gambler. You have a terrible poker face.” Irritation rippled through me, mingled with sudden self-consciousness. Heat surged to my cheeks. I hoped the lighting was dim enough to hide it. “I think you’re the one who’s getting flustered.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe a little.”
