Leanna Wilson - His Tomboy Bride

“Why would I want to go out with you? What makes you think we’d have any fun?”

“We did growing up, didn’t we?” His jaunty grin made her head whirl.

She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I guess we did. I’m sure it would be an education. Maybe one I should do without. After all, you and Jake taught me some...well, not very sociable manners when I was a kid. Doug might not appreciate anything you have to teach me.”

Nick scowled. “What did we teach you that was socially unacceptable?”

“The finer points of spitting,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, but laughter lurked beneath the surface as she remembered those hot summer afternoons down at Willow’s Pond.

“Hey, we taught you not to spit on others. That’s socially correct.” His broad shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “You were a natural. You could hit a fly at fifty paces.”

Her mouth twisted with the effort of containing a chuckle. “You taught me how to box, too. And that got me in trouble when Charlie Wallace and I had a fight on the playground.”

“Only because you bloodied his nose. Otherwise he probably would have been in more trouble for picking on a girl.” Nick rubbed his jaw. “You never know, though, that right hook of yours might come in handy. It’ll keep me in line. If I get fresh, then I give you permission to wallop me.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, but her heart hammered in her chest. “You get fresh with me.”

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