She shook her head like she couldn’t believe what I was saying. “Excuse me?”
“Get in,” I said, tilting my head, letting the challenge sit between us. “Unless you’re scared.”
Her eyes narrowed so sharply I felt it in my bloodstream. “Don’t you dare try to use reverse cowboy psychology on me.”
“Then prove it. Although I’ve only tried reverse cowgirl, so you might have to show me that move.”
She stared at me aghast for a long, charged second, mist drifting around her and her hair sticking to her flushed cheeks, and I was sure she’d refuse. “Fine,” she finally said calmly.
I blinked at her in hopeful shock. “Fine?”
“Fine,” she repeated. “But you’re turning around. I am not skinny-dipping under the scrutiny of a man who looks like he’d make Superman cry.”
I raised a brow. “Like what?”
“
