“Manage what?”
“Staying out of trouble.”
She turned around, ducked in her car. He stood there even after she’d backed out of the parking lot and zoomed down the street.
He was about eighty-eight percent sure that she’d just given him a dare. She hadn’t said, “I want trouble.” But her tone had a whispery dare in it. Her eyes had a fever-bright dare for damn sure. Her body, her smiles… Oh, yeah. She was all about danger and dares.
It wasn’t a good idea to dare a guy at the end of his hormonal tether. He’d been good as gold, for Pete’s sake. But like his four-year-old said—his male four-year-old—nobody could be good all the time.