by Cari Quinn
Great. Sam hadn’t even showed up yet and she was already a mess.
“Want me to clean you up?” Pete murmured, his light-blue eyes gleaming as he grabbed another napkin.
“No, I can handle it,” she said, dabbing futilely at the splotches.
But he wasn’t listening. He dipped his napkin in his water and went to work, smearing the sauce and managing to tweak her nipple at the same time. She immediately pulled away. Tonight wasn’t the night for games and she wasn’t about to let another guy feel up her breasts while she waited for—
The man currently standing in the doorway to Loki’s, silently watching her.
She swallowed, barely conscious of the war whoops sounding around her. Nothing registered but the utter darkness of Sam’s eyes. And when her gaze finally made its way to his mouth, that he wore a little smile and not a scowl. Her heart lurched into a frantic beat.
He wasn’t annoyed. Not that he necessarily had any right to be, but men could be funny that way.
“Hey,” she mouthed, waving the lone clean napkin she’d snatched off the table.
Sam smiled, all the way this time, and ambled over, reaching their group just as the Patriots made another touchdown and everyone cheered. Popcorn went flying when an errant elbow toppled the bowl but Rory only laughed and grabbed a couple pieces to toss in her mouth.
It would be okay.
“Hi, you,” Sam said from behind her, his greeting almost getting lost in the noise. The words still thrummed through her body. Especially when he followed them up with a quick, blink-and-it’s-gone kiss over the top of her hair.
“Hi,” she said, tipping back her head to smile up into those serious eyes. Except he wasn’t looking at her face. All his attention was directed on the two wet circles on her sweatshirt. Specifically the erect nipples poking urgently through the cotton.
“Happy to see me?”
She grinned at his low question. “Of course.”
He jerked a chin at her friends, most of whom had yet to notice him in the melee. “This your regular crowd?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat as Pete suddenly glanced at her, then swung his gaze toward Sam. There wasn’t any jealousy in the look—they weren’t about that—just open curiosity. “Here, let me introduce you to everyone.”
Sam’s big body tensed behind her but he nodded. “Sounds good.”
After introductions had been made, everyone settled back into the game as the waitress came up to get drink refills and to take Sam’s order. He asked Rory if she wanted some cheese sticks and onion rings and she said yes, already feeling a little sorry that onion rings probably meant no making out later.
Okay, a lot sorry.
Sam settled on a stool beside her and grabbed some popcorn, idly discussing the game with a couple of her friends. But he always included her in the conversation, and when the topic shifted to what he did for a living, he reached out to sling an arm around Rory’s hips. She stood there in the shelter of his big, beefy arm like a beaming student who’d just been presented with an attendance award. Cinnamon-and-spice aftershave and the faint aroma of motor oil tickled her senses, an irresistible combination. Even the dark smudges on his blunt fingertips aroused her, dragging her into a reverie about him with his head under the hood of her car, a sexy smile creasing his face as he murmured how dirty her spark plugs were…
“You coming back anytime soon?”
She shook herself at his soft question, finding herself trapped in his amused dark gaze. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Nice to know.” He rested his hand lightly on the curve of her butt. “You look cute tonight, by the way.”
Only the slight waver at the end of his comment alerted her to his nervousness. He seemed at ease but he probably knew how to hide his emotions.
She didn’t want him to hide from her.
“Thank you.” Deliberately, she let her gaze travel from his V-neck navy sweater, sans shirt so that wispy dark hair curled along the edges of the cotton, to his bleached jeans, loose on his powerful hips. “You too.”
He reached for his beer then took two sips and set it aside, a smile twitching on his lips. “Never been called cute before.”
“You are.” Without thinking about it, she leaned in to nip his strong chin, her gaze flicking up to his face to gauge his reaction. He sucked in a breath at the quick rasp of her tongue. “Very.”
His hand slipped down to palm her ass. “Rory,” he said, his pointed glances around the table making her realize they were being watched. Pete in particular seemed fascinated.
She moved back a fraction. As much as she understood him not wanting to attract attention, she didn’t intend to pretend there wasn’t anything going on between them. These were her friends.
“So you work on classic cars. Is that how you met our Rory?” Josh asked, snatching a handful of popcorn. “She mentioned she’d dinged her car in a fender bender last week. Though her heap of a car is hardly classic.”
Sam swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. It would be so easy for him to say yes, to take their meeting out of the realm of the strange and awkward to something natural. He opened his mouth, shot her a glance. Asking for help maybe. Help she had no problem giving. The story of how they met belonged to them alone.
“Yes, we—”
“No, we met at Rory’s job. The sign place. I’m one of her customers.” The minute Sam finished, he again reached for his beer and gulped it down. She was surprised she couldn’t feel his heart beating even from a few inches away.
“Oh. Cool. So what kind of cars do you work on? Anything you get a lot of?” Pete asked, his expression even more friendly than usual. He was a car fiend.
Aaron banged down his empty beer. “I got a classic Mustang. Cherry red, ’76. Pristine, man. She’s a fucking beast.”
“Yeah?” All at once Sam’s tension drained away and his hand again cupped her butt. Somehow it felt more like he needed to hold on to her than an attempt to cop a feel. Not that she would’ve minded, but this was even better.
She caught his eye and they shared a smile, one that snatched her breath. Even after he looked away and began talking shop with the guys, she struggled to recover.
Her only consolation was that she hadn’t fallen all the way yet. There was still that rational part of her brain that said it didn’t make sense to have feelings for a man she barely knew, billboards and phone sex and long conversations aside. They had only scratched the surface of getting to know each other. Hormones didn’t count. Liking the little glances he threw her way as he spoke to her friends didn’t count either. Nor did how comfortable his barrel chest felt behind her when he encouraged her to lean back into his embrace as they watched the game.
His arms tightened around her and this time when her friends looked their way, he didn’t flinch. While everyone else cheered the touchdown that ended the game in the Patriots’ favor, he leaned down and clasped her earlobe between his lips. “You usually stay past the end of the game?”
Her already budding nipples decided to answer for her by pressing against her still-damp sweatshirt. “We can go whenever. I’m easy.”
At his half-smile, heat rushed across her cheeks. “I mean—”
“I like you just the way you are, Ror.” After a quick kiss on her temple, he settled her back in front of him and offered their goodbyes to the group. Everyone seemed genuinely sad to see them go, but she couldn’t claim the same as she walked out into the perfect moonlit night with Sam.
Ror. She probably shouldn’t have even noticed but she wasn’t that cool. In fact, she felt decidedly bumbling around this man. God, she needed to get a grip before she started hearing harp music whenever he glanced her way.
“Sure that was okay?” he asked as they started to walk toward the adjacent parking lot, his hand securely gripping hers.
“It’s fine. I was eager to leave.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m not saying I wasn’t having fun
. I’m just ready for the rest of the night to get started.”
When he stopped walking, she realized she’d said the wrong thing. Again. “I mean—”
“I was hoping we could just hang. You know, be friends.”
“Friends. Right.” Disappointment coursed through her as she tugged on her suddenly constricting purse. “I’m good with that.”
“No, you’re not.” He chuckled, stepping closer to cradle her face in his large palm. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s better if we keep sex off the table for a while.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. So what’d you think about the game?”
He chuckled again and he didn’t let go of her face. He also moved almost imperceptibly closer. “Don’t get mad ’til you hear me out.”
“Too late,” she muttered.
“I’m the one who pushed things too fast, not you.”
“Which time?”
He stroked her jaw. “All. Everything from your voice to your face to just…well, you, makes me want more. To learn everything there is to know about Rory Fowler. But if we hop into bed, some of that might get lost. I don’t want to miss a single moment of you, Ror.”
Again with the Ror thing. She directed her attention over his shoulder at the canopy of colorful leaves backlit by the lights that rimmed the parking lot. The flaming red and orange foliage fluttered gently in the breeze. It was a perfect night and she was with the man she wanted to be with. Right, wrong, it didn’t matter. She could lament what wasn’t or enjoy what was.
“Okay. I’m game for anything.”
“Has a man ever taken his time with you?” he asked quietly, instead of moving back as she’d expected. “Seduced you before he ever laid a hand on your body? Have you ever let him?”
Rory tensed, her stomach knotting as if he’d just told her he wasn’t attracted to her. In a way this was worse. There at least she’d know where she stood. He’d turned the spotlight back on her and she didn’t know how to answer.
She didn’t want to be seduced. Not outside the bedroom and not by this disturbingly fascinating, complex man. If he did that, how would she ever steel her heart against everything she wasn’t ready to feel?
“Rory?”
It would be so simple to lie. Of course she’d been seduced. She’d had sex, hadn’t she? But they both knew what he was talking about involved so much more than just the interlocking of body parts.
“No,” she said finally, again tugging on her purse. Dammit, why had she shoved so much stuff inside? The thing weighed a ton. “I’m not big on patience. When I want something, I usually go for it.”
“Before you even have a chance to see if you want it at all?”
“Listen, Sam, if talking in riddles is your way of trying to ease back, don’t worry about it. I’m cool with—”
He leaned in and took her mouth with his, snatching away her words and her protests and whittling the moment down to just them. No words, no worries. Just two pairs of lips, two eager tongues and two unsteadily beating hearts that throbbed against each other when she pressed close.
“Rory.” He groaned her name, not giving her time to respond before he wrapped his hand around her neck and surged his tongue deeper, his breath sweetly filling her mouth. They’d ended up skipping the onion rings—amen to that—but she tasted beer and salt and a burst of heat from the hot sauce, each flavor distinct and unique. More than that, his emotions flavored the kiss. His fear, his anticipation. The urgency that both drew her in and pushed her away.
When he gasped and pulled back, chest heaving, she swallowed the urge to yank him right back again. “That’s what I mean. You kiss like that, you’re going to end up in bed.” He glanced around as if he’d just remembered they were still at Loki’s. “Or up against a sturdy tree.”
She laughed. “That’s a bad thing?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded gritty, raw. “It is. The first time we’re together, we’re going to do it right. I’m not using you for a pity fuck, Rory.”
“You think I’m with you because I feel sorry for you?”
“No. I think you like me. I also think you have a sensitive heart, more so than you even know. And if giving me your body made me feel better, you’d do it. But I want you to feel good too. I don’t want this to be about me, but about us. Give it time for there to be an us, Rory.”
She pressed her quivering lips together and tried to ignore that she now tasted like him. “What if all that time does is show us that there shouldn’t be an us?”
“Then so be it. Jumping into bed before either of us is ready won’t change that.”
“Oh, I’m ready.”
Instead of laughing, he reached out to trace her mouth with his big fingers, shocking her into stillness. “I want to make love to you properly. To be in the place where I can. Anything else is just shortchanging us both. And I already care for you too much to offer you anything less than my best, even if you’d take it. Even if you think you’re not worth more.”
The tears that sprang into her eyes were both unexpected and a pain in the ass. Please God, don’t let him see them. “It’s your call.”
“No, it’s ours. Both of ours.”
“Okay.” The breath she exhaled scalded her throat. “We’ll try it your way.”
“Our way, suggested by me.” The softness of his teasing smile made it easier for her to smile back. “But that doesn’t mean everything stops. I’m not saying I can go cold turkey. I might want to do right by you, but if I can’t at least hear you come again, I’ll probably lose my mind.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He took her hand and drew it down to his groin, his body stiffening when her fingers brushed his obvious erection. “See what I mean? I’m fucking steel for you. So don’t you dare think this is about rejection. Who I’m rejecting right now is me, for not being man enough to make love to you the way we both need.”
As much as she wanted to, she resisted curling her fingers around him and stroking that intriguingly hard, thick length. She’d explored that part of him once and wanted to again. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
“Okay.” With effort she drew her hand away, but not before he grabbed it and lifted it to his lips. He pressed them into her palm, his midnight eyes centered solely on hers.
She shivered a little as he turned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Do you feel like taking a walk? It’s a nice night.”
A walk. Her panties were wet and her heart was sore and the guy wanted to go for a stroll. But she’d agreed to try, so she would. Maybe resentfully. Maybe even fearfully. But she’d do as he asked.
She plastered a smile on her face to match his. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
An hour later they were each in their respective homes and on the phone, ending the evening as they’d ended so many others recently. Her drink tonight was a cup of microwave hot cocoa, the warmth around her waist her comfy throw rather than the delicious weight of a man’s arm. But it was okay.
Better than okay.
“You know, I’ve never been one for talking much on the phone,” she murmured, setting aside her cocoa as the warm milk, the alcohol earlier and the sexy voice in her ear lulled her into a deeper relaxation than she’d ever known.
“Me either. I don’t really do it much. Except with you.”
She liked being his first. Maybe someday even his only. “I could kinda tell that first day we spoke,” she said, giggling softly. Only a couple weeks ago. How could that be?
“Didn’t think I was a natural, huh?” His wry tone teased free another laugh.
“No. But it works for me. Just like the rest of you. So…that getting to you know you stuff. Tell me about your family. Parents?”
“Two. Both still alive. Wonderful, solid people. Mom’s a stockbroker. Dad’s a vet.”
“Mine are both alive too. Still together, mostly. They fight. For good reasons.” She sighed. “Mom’s a homemaker, Dad’s a lawyer. He spends
a lot of nights at the office. You know?”
A long moment passed. “With his secretary?” he asked quietly.
“I honestly don’t know. But that’s as good a guess as any other.” She pressed on. “Siblings?”
“Four brothers. You?”
“A younger brother. He doesn’t live around here. Split as soon as he hit eighteen and moved to Nashville. His plan is to become the next Kenny Chesney.”
“As good a plan as any other.”
“Guess so. Are your brothers normal?”
“What’s normal?”
“Good point.” She laughed and tucked her cheek against her pillow. Snowdrop shuffled over to curl up under her arm, already purring. “Tell me more.”
He talked at length about them, sharing stories of how the two youngest, Toby and Luke, still pulled crazy pranks every time he stopped by the house. Which was often, she gathered, since his affection for his family dripped from every word. Billy worked with him at his shop and was his best friend. He had twin girls, a wife and a mohawk, in that order. And Owen drove long-haul trucks, making his life on the road. He ran through women like newspapers and liked drinking Coke with lime.
“And he loves stupid hats.” Sam’s rich laugh flowed over her skin as if he were right there in the room. “The best is the cap with the mini keg and a straw. He fills it with Coke while he’s on the road. Doesn’t care who he meets, the hat never comes off.”
She laughed with him, drifting on his voice. On the stories. The Millers sounded like an amazing family. Tight, loving. The kind she’d always wanted and had almost given up on ever having.
But right now, in the darkness, his voice on the line gave her hope that anything was possible. He held her fate in her hands. Just like he already held a part of her she hadn’t offered to anyone else.
“Ror? You sound sleepy.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I’ll let you go then.”
Her happy warmth began to dissipate. “No,” she said, a little too desperately. “Don’t. Just keep talking. Tell me about your childhood. Or college. Or about how you started your business.” Just don’t hang up.
