by Liv Morris
“I’m enjoying this seat too.” And I am enjoying it, immensely. The view of him decked out in wool and cashmere, the smell of his cologne, and the feel of fine leather are a dangerous mix to me. I’m not sure yet, but I have a feeling that I’m going to be in trouble if we stay huddled in this car too long. My mind is starting to wander and wonder.
What would his lips feel like against mine? Would his kiss be gentle or passionate? If he started something, would I even want to stop him?
Probably not.
But I’ve lived “no boys allowed” since The Cheater got caught, well, cheating. And I’ve often hoped some plague would descend on him or his most prized part. But this guy, Drew Michaels, was the complete package. Handsome, sweet as honey, and obviously successful. I pray he’s straight because guys like him are an endangered species in my experience.
A comfortable quiet falls between us and we silently listen to the traffic reports on the radio. All over Chicago, roads were closing due to the snow. When a reporter announces that Lake Shore Drive is being shut down because of a jackknifed bus, we look at each other knowing that we’re in for a long wait.
“Looks like we’re going to be holed-up in here for awhile,” he says, sounding frustrated.
“Probably so. I hope someone can make it through and move the bus. Otherwise, we’re screwing, I mean, screwed. Screwed, yeah, that’s what I meant to say.” I want to bury my face in my hands or in his actually.
“Kat, you’re funny.” He smiles at me and I melt a little more into the seat. “I’m beginning to think you’d keep a guy like me on my toes. I like that.”
“I’d like that too.” I feel my face heating up and probably turning a bright red. “Jeez, I could really use a drink or a whole bottle right now.” My laugh is a nervous giggle.
“Hey, I bought some brandy for my parents. It’s in the backseat.”
“Do you think it’s alright for me to have a drink? You know with my head and all.”
“Probably a little bit to warm you up would be okay.” Once again I’m treated to his sexy little wink. Who needs brandy to warm them up when he’s doing that?
He starts leaning my way and reaching behind me. Yes, I am definitely screwed.
Warming Up
He’s looking straight into my eyes, only inches away from my face, as he pulls a bag from the back of the car. Sadly, he sits back up and places it on his lap.
“I bought this for my father.” He points to the bag. “It’s his favorite brandy and came in a set with two matching glasses so we’re covered.”
I watch as he pulls the bag’s contents out. The bottle contains a rich amber-colored liquid. Brandy, I assume.
“Martel XO Cognac 80 proof. It doesn’t get any better. Here, hold this glass while I pour you three fingers,” he instructs.
I focus on two things in his last words he spoke—80 proof and three fingers. I’m pretty sure that I need to be careful, because the brandy he’s pouring into my glass smells stronger than any liquor I’ve ever smelled.
“Maybe we should work up to three fingers. Start slowly.” I giggle, inappropriately. “I think this stuff could put some hairs on my chest and I’m not sure how I’ll explain that to my waxing girl.”
Holy crap. My waxing habits seem a little too personal for a “we just met an hour ago” conversation. However, he appears amused by my words and keeps pouring the amber liquid into my glass while he chuckles, most likely at my expense.
“I wouldn’t let you drink something that puts hairs on your, um, chest,” he says, and the dirty rascal continues to snicker. “So you’re safe for now with your waxing girl.”
“Funny.” I scoff and bring the glass up to my nose for a quick sniff. “I have to confess that I’ve never tried brandy. Should I sip it?”
“Never tried brandy, huh?” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “Place the bottom of the snifter glass in the palm of your hand. Your body temperature will warm up the brandy.”
“Like this?” I ask him after removing my gloves and tentatively placing the brandy glass in my palm.
“Yes. Now take slow sips and let the brandy flow down your throat. You should feel a warmth as you swallow.”
I follow his instructions, sipping and slowly swallowing. I watch as he focuses on my lips and then my throat. I’m pretty sure he swallowed too, though he hadn’t drunk anything yet.
After that gulp by Mr. Michaels, I decide to up the ante a bit. Getting stuck in a snowstorm with a hot guy doesn’t come along every day, or any day for that matter, so it’s time to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.
With my eyes focusing on his, I take another sip, and run my brandy-coated tongue over my lips and wink. It’s my turn to pull out the charm. At least that’s my hope.
He stares at me for a bit and then shakes his head with a smirk on his lips. I laugh as he removes his scarf, unbuttons the top of his cashmere coat and loosens his tie. I swear there’s some steam rising from his collar too.
“What’s the matter, Drew? Getting a little hot?” I purposely purr my questions. He shrugs his shoulders and I decide to keep pressing him. “Perhaps you need a little help with that tie.”
I turn toward him and lean in closer as he nods like an obedient little boy. Perhaps, my tongue and wink combination were a little too much for him, as he appears slightly stunned.
My fingers work quickly to release the knot in his red, silk tie. Slowly, I pull on one end while I gaze up at him coyly through my lashes. Inch by inch, the tie gradually falls away from beneath his collar. He lets out a soft moan as I collect the fallen end from his lap. Gathering the tie in my hand, I decide the rearview mirror would be its best resting place.
“Let’s leave your tie on the rearview mirror. Who knows, we might need it later.” I pause and realize I might have been to forward. “Just kidding.”
“You’re really something else, Kat.” His sexy smile is mixed with a sweet shyness.
“So I’ve been told.” My sarcasm isn’t hidden.
“What did you think of the brandy? Too strong?”
“It’s different. Maybe an acquired taste?” I swirl the amber liquor in my glass after taking another sip.
I’m beginning to feel warm now too, so I sit up in my seat, purposely unbuttoning my coat and wiggle my arms free one at a time. It now hangs empty at my sides.
“Getting a little hot, too?” he questions, slyly.
“Yes, between the brandy and you, I am.” I arch my brow at him and look around for the other brandy sniffer that he took out of the gift bag. “But where’s your glass? I think you need a drink too, Mister.”
“Is that so?” I watch him reach for something on the floor in front of him. Sitting back up, he now has the other brandy glass resting in his hand.
“You’ve three fingered me; now it’s your turn.” We both look at each other, jointly shocked by my words.
Hung By Her Tongue
“God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” My face is heating up and I want to bury it in my hands. “We hardly know each other and I’m talking about fingering, my waxing girl, and using your tie for God knows what.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun with someone. You’re quite entertaining.”
“Really?” I ask, totally surprised. “My mother thinks I need to learn how to, and I quote, ‘control my tongue.’ But every time I meet someone I’m attracted to, I start saying things that are totally inappropriate.”
“And this lack of filter issue only happens when you’re attracted to someone?” He quizzes me, while cocking a brow my way. He’s one sexy gentleman. Lucky old me.
Crap, he caught the “attracted” remark I made. I’d better explain a few things to him.
“Yeah, I tend to speak like a crazy person when I’m around a hot guy. I have a chronic condition of hormone-induced Tourette’s.”
Looking into his eyes, I continue. “You are my worst case yet.”
>
“Why’s that?” he asks with a devilish smirk, seeming to enjoy my discomfort.
“Jeez, I think that’s fairly obvious,” I declare. “You’ve looked into the mirror, right?”
“Yes, daily, when I brush my teeth, comb my hair, boring, necessary stuff like that,” he dutifully outlines his morning mirror routine. Whatever…
“Well, then I’ll just have to quote my favorite line from the movie, Zoolander.” I stop and pause before reciting the punch line in my best Derek Zoolander accent. “You, Mr. Michaels, are really, really ridiculously good-looking.”
He starts to laugh in this unbelievably cute way. I can’t resist it and join in too.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he chokes out between laughs. I find it difficult to believe that I am really this funny. Maybe he hangs around dull, stiff-lipped people. Who knows? But either way he needs to know that I’m as serious as the boring people he likely socializes with.
“No, you really, really are. You’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. I’d call you beautiful, but you’d probably not like that tag. Most men think it’s weird or something.”
His eyes stay locked on mine as the glow of the dashboard lights reflect off his face. His gaze becomes serious. All previous humor is missing.
“Thanks for the compliment, Kat.” His voice is soft, gentle. I want to reach over and take his hand, but I can’t break this moment just yet.
“It’s hard to believe you have no idea what a catch you are.” My words make him bashfully bow his head. Could he be any more adorable?
“Okay, here’s the list I’ve compiled in the hour we’ve been together.” He looks wary, but I continue on. “You’re sweet, handsome and successful. I didn’t think guys like you really existed.”
There’s a moment of quietness once I quit speaking and the atmosphere between us changes. It makes me want to reach out and touch him perhaps caress his hand with my fingers. I’ve never, ever desired someone like this. This “thing” I’m feeling toward him is pretty strong.
Throwing care to the wind, I decide to reach across the console and boldly take his hand in mine. His next breath comes out in an audible gasp as our fingers touch. His eyes look down and watch as our hands entwine together.
Holding his hand up slightly I ask, “Is this okay?” He nods and I smile, glad to know I’m not being too forward.
As we continue to hold hands, I feel something intense in our connection and touch. I can’t help but hope he’s feeling something for me too. Next thing I know he brings my hand up to his perfect lips.
As he gently kisses my knuckles, it’s clear we’re both feeling something now. I close my eyes and hum quietly while his lips caress my skin. It feels heavenly. My entire body moves toward him and our shoulders touch, coming together over the center console.
After his gentle kisses cease, he continues to rub my hand with his fingers and whispers, “You feel so soft, so warm.”
“Thanks. This is the best wreck ever.” I sigh contentedly and he laughs.
“You’ve been in quite a few wrecks then?”
“No, just this one. Best and only.” I smile up at him. Our hands are still clasped together.
“I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll be rescued before midnight,” he speculates.
“God, I hope so. It’s not New Year’s Eve unless I see a ball drop.” I turn red and he laughs. I’m beginning to see a pattern here. I speak in my unique form of Tourette’s and he seems to think it’s as funny as hell.
“You have a knack for saying things that seem innocent but could also be dirty. Quite the talent.” He smirks and I die a little or maybe a lot.
“Yes, my mother has trophies all over the house from my exploits.” I turn away from him rather embarrassed but my movement makes him hold my hand a little tighter. He’s not letting me go and I’m happy about that.
“Sorry, Kat. I’m kidding. Truth is I find your ‘condition’ pretty damn cute.” He smiles and it makes me smile back. “I have an idea. Let’s play a little game. Get to know one another. Whatta ya say?”
“Maybe a little strip poker followed by a quick game of Twister?” I let out a quick snort because that was bad even for me.
“That’s rather progressive for a first date, don’t you think?” And he’s back to rubbing my fingers and I feel myself melting back into his lovely leather seats.
“A first date?” I don’t think he’s joking.
“We could call it that. Stranded in a snowstorm. It’s a pretty unique way for two perfect strangers to meet.”
“Yes, it is,” I have to agree with him. “I’ve had a second, third or maybe even a twentieth date that wasn’t this memorable.”
Unhappily Rescued
Lights come shining through the back window of the car. They’re flashing red, illuminating our little space. I know what they mean. Our time together is up, finished, and I feel sad.
I need to get my disabled car towed and Drew will probably drive off after wishing me well. Maybe he was headed to a friend’s party where a girl is happily waiting for him. By tomorrow, he’ll forget me and I’ll be trying to forget him. But I know that’s impossible. It may take some time to get this guy out of my head… and heart.
“Looks like we have company,” he says curtly. He doesn’t seem thrilled to see the lights either. A little flicker of hope lights up within me. Maybe just maybe…
A knock on the window startles me, and I watch as Drew lowers the window to see who’s there. Snow whirls into the car as the outside air is exposed. It’s blowing hard, even harder than it was when my car hit the side of the bus.
“Good evening,” a gruff male voice says to us. His face is partially covered by a thick scarf. “I’m Officer Kowalski. You’ll need to evacuate your car and follow me to the rescue vehicle.”
“You want me to just leave my car here?” Drew questions. He sounds freaked at the thought of leaving his beloved car here.
“There’s no other choice. The bus can’t be moved tonight and the snow trucks won’t be clearing this area until tomorrow. So this car isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
“Okay. Give us a second to get our coats and gloves on,” Drew replies back, frustrated, I can tell, and rolls up his window.
“Wow, this is crazy,” I say, hoping to lighten his mood. I pull on my coat and grab my purse. It’s time to brave the snow. “I’m ready to go.”
“Why don’t you climb over the middle and exit out my side? I want to help you in case you’re dizzy when you stand up. Remember, the bump on your head?” I’m touched that he cares.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I watch as he opens the door.
Heating Up
Drew grabs my hand and helps me maneuver over to the driver’s side. I dread facing the snow and wind. My body starts to brace for the shock. Once I’m by the door, his hands take mine and help pull me out the door.
“Oh my God,” I yell, completely startled by the cold wind’s fierceness. It whips through my wool coat and hits my legs. The black tights and red boots I’m wearing might as well be made of thin gauze. Nothing will stop me from freezing now.
“Come on, Kat.” I hear Drew somewhere in the whirlwind. My eyes are watering as I try to open them. I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. The lake-effect winds are nothing new to me, but this blizzard is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
Drew pulls me tightly to his side. I cling to him as if he’s my last breath. It feels like he’s dragging me. My feet are having trouble moving in the deep snow. The next thing I know he’s picking me up and cradling me in his arms. Like a small child, I curl into him and wrap my arms around his neck. Holding on tight, my face burrows into his chest and I’m comforted by his spicy cologne. He smells all man. Masculine and strong.
“We’re almost there,” he shouts. His body vibrates against my cheek.
After a few more steps, Drew stops and lowers me. He places a hand on my head and tucks me even further into him. Th
e wind has stopped beating against me and something meets my backside. I think it’s a seat.
Thank God, we’re in the rescue vehicle. I open my eyes and scoot over on the bench seat so Drew can join me. A blast of warm air coming from the heater’s vent draws me forward. I can’t get enough of its warmth as even my covered fingers are tingling.
“We made it.” My words are slurring together due to my nearly frostbitten lips.
Even before I’m finished speaking, he has me in his arms. Again, I melt into him. He could be rather habit forming and I could get used to being his addict. I giggle at my thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” he asks while looking down into my eyes.
“Oh, I think I’m becoming addicted to you.”
“What are you talking about, Kat?” There’s a look of amusement on his face. He’s just so darn handsome.
“I have these crazy symptoms. Butterflies in my stomach, heart beating a little too fast, and the worst one of all… I keep looking at your lips.”
“Funny thing… I have the same symptoms too.” He gazes down at my lips, and moves his mouth closer to mine. We touch. It’s a short, sweet kiss as the officer who helped us is now trying to get our attention.
“Pardon me, lovebirds. But you all need to buckle up before I take off,” he scolds us from the front seat.
I find myself smiling and feeling giddy. Drew likes me. I can see it. Feel it.
“Officer, my name is Drew Michaels. My friend here is Kat Williams.”
“Your friend, you say?” the officer questions.
“Well, we weren’t together before the storm,” I state and glance over at Drew.
“Actually, she was driving the car in front of me. She hit the bus and I had her join me in my car.” He’s staring back at me now. It’s really unbelievable, this pull I think we’re both feeling for each other.
“My car’s a little banged up,” I explain.
“Don’t forget that bump on your head.” Drew’s face turns toward the officer. “I think she should have a doctor look at it.”
