Modern Fairy Tale

by Proby, Kristen

  “Two specials,” I said to the server, and then looked back at her. “And fries?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “And fries to share,” I told him, mentally adding, And now, scat.

  Charli swallowed, and I braced my hand on the table. More than anything, I wanted to run my hand over her skin, allow my fingers to trace her collarbone. I wanted to pull her close…to kiss her.

  Nothing with this woman was meant to be rushed. She was like a fine wine that only improved with age and time. Time she hadn’t been given growing up, but I’d waited close to a year.

  I could wait some more.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Charli

  He stared at me, his eyes melting me, turning me into a gooey mess.

  I showed up expecting witty Layton, the guy who liked to make me laugh.

  Instead, I found hot and sexy Layton, who still made me laugh. Of course, he’d been handsome before; I could see beauty beneath the girth. But this? This was unexpected.

  I had no idea how to react, the appropriate thing to say or do. Did I say holy shit you’re hot now that you dropped fifty?

  Or I thought I liked you last time I saw you, but now…whew!

  At first, fear ripped through me. I thought he was sick or something because he seemed content with who he’d been before. Why would he go and change?

  “So, tell me about you,” I said, changing the subject. “We’ve been talking about me forever.” I’d spread too much out there about myself, and here I was trying to let go, love life, be free, and he shows up all tight and insanely dapper.

  “To be honest,” he said as he swirled an ice cube in his water glass and leaned forward, “this all sort of came about because of you.” He took a long sip from it before he added, “Don’t freak out. It wasn’t to get you or anything like that.”

  I raised an eyebrow and felt it touch my bangs. “Get me?”

  “I mean, it wasn’t to win you over. I didn’t feel like I had to change my looks for that. When I first started pursuing you through e-mails…yeah, kind of stalking you…I kept screwing up. So I spent a lot of time walking, more than I’d moved in a long time. By the time I got to New York that last time, I was already down a few pounds and feeling better.”

  “Funny, I was a fitness editor and obsessed with everything fitness, and now I’ve sort of let it go and you’re all gung-ho. Life’s strange, isn’t it?”

  He dropped his elbows on the table and leaned in even closer. “Let me be very clear, Charli. No way you’ve let anything go. Pardon my language, but you look fucking fabulous. You have since the day you stepped on the plane.” He reached out to tweak a piece of my hair. “And this longer hair? It suits you.”

  When did Layton become so irresistibly bossy? And when did I start to love it?

  Like five seconds ago.

  Chills ran sprints up and down my spine, and butterflies were doing plyometrics in my belly. Between my legs, tingles and spasms took charge.

  I had to say something, had to acknowledge him. “Thank you. Honestly, it’s more of not having time to deal with it. Going to an office, I had to keep up with my hair. Now I tie it up and hit Starbucks.”

  “Don’t change a thing. You’re perfect, Charleston.”

  My full name rolled off his tongue and straight to my core. It had never sounded so delicious. I rubbed my palms along my jeans and smoothed the front of my red sweater, trying to wipe away the tension flitting through me.

  “So, you’re walking and feeling good, and then what?”

  “I got into it. I was on that action flick, and started checking out the workouts the actors were doing when I stopped by the set. One day I asked to join in, and Ryan Richards, you know him?”

  “Um, yes. Every female with a pulse knows him.”

  “Well, he took me under his wing. Literally. I was his charge. He set me up with his chef and had me doing all these workouts.”

  “Wow.”

  “Are you wow-ing over Ryan or the workouts? Because I never know. The last date I had, she wanted to know if I could introduce her to Ryan.”

  All I heard was the last date I had. I felt my lips press flat and my brows draw in.

  “You don’t have to feel bad if that’s what you wanted to know too. I can introduce you.” He took a long slug of his water, refusing to make eye contact. I’d hurt his feelings, but not intentionally.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Here you go.” Our waiter was back, arranging our burgers on the table along with some ridiculous french fry platter with a million dipping sauces. I wished he’d fall through the floor.

  Stupid waiter.

  When he left, our food sat there untouched as tension swirled between us. So I gathered my courage and spilled the truth.

  “I don’t want to meet Ryan. I guess I didn’t like hearing you were on a date, but I don’t own you.”

  “Charli, I’ve wanted to date you since you sat down in seat 2C. Are you not catching on to that? It’s still me, Layton, and I’m still desperately trying to woo you. There may have been dates but there’s been zero wooing. Only hoping for you.”

  Something unfamiliar pricked at my eyes, emotions I’d never felt. I couldn’t unravel the ball of feelings in my chest.

  “Come on,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Eat your burger and tell me what’s going on with you. What the hell are you writing? And then we can get some ice cream from one of the street vendors.”

  He picked up his burger and took a bite, and I couldn’t help but watch him chew, the way his jaw flexed. I noticed he wore the stubble again.

  Oh, that stubble. I’m a goner.

  Wiping my mouth after a decent bite of burger and a fry, I said, “I submitted my collection of short stories. I got like thirty no’s and then just like that, two deals came my way. The book is coming out at the beginning of the summer. I just approved the cover.”

  “That deserves a wow! And now what?”

  I turned my focus to the table. I didn’t want to admit this out loud.

  Layton’s index finger lifted my chin and raised my gaze to meet his. He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I’m writing a love story. A beauty and the beast kind of thing…”

  “Well, I’m flattered. You’re writing our tale.”

  Except I’m the beast.

  I didn’t say anything. I ate a fry and changed the subject, asking about the movie he was working on.

  * * *

  Dinner passed with more small talk and laughter. As we stood up from the table, our hands didn’t know where to go. I wanted his to find the small of my back; mine wanted to find his other hand and weave our fingers together. Neither happened, but he did hold my coat up and I slipped inside, buttoning up tight.

  When we walked through the door, cold air blasted us.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s not an ice cream night,” I remarked, feeling a little sad at the prospect.

  I didn’t want the night to end, and I didn’t know when he was leaving the city. I knew he’d met with the small music label again, and I assumed he would be out of here tomorrow.

  My time was up, and the irony of the situation struck me. We were like a strange flip-flop of the classic fairy tale, but I was the prince and he was Cinderella at the ball. Soon he’d transform back to who he was and slip off into the night, leaving me alone.

  I didn’t care if he became the old Layton. I only didn’t want him to slip away.

  He gave me a somber look. “I guess I owe you one?”

  We stood outside on the sidewalk, flurries swirling in the air, taxis whooshing by, and a herd of elephants surrounding us. Passion and hesitation flowed between us in equal parts.

  “Want to come back to my place? I make a mean hot cocoa,” I blurted before I could change my mind.

  “Lead the way,” he said, his relief palpable, and I waved for an available cab.

  We hopped in and I rattled off my address.
As the cab sped us to my place, we sat side by side in the backseat, thigh to thigh like we had on the plane, both of us staring forward, refusing to look at each other because of those damn elephants.

  Then his hand reached for mine. I’d put my gloves on, but I still felt the heat of his marvelous hand through the cashmere.

  And I wanted that heat everywhere.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Layton

  I was going with Charli back to her place, something I’d never dreamed possible. I tried to calm down, needing to control my heart rate; it was beating faster than during any workout I’d ever attempted.

  As I slid into the cab first so she didn’t have to slide across, I scolded myself. The only thing on the menu was hot cocoa, and I wasn’t such a big fan of the stuff anyway.

  In the dim light of the cab, I studied Charli’s features. She looked unsure of herself, unsettled. Not with the choice to invite me over, I didn’t think, but more with what my intentions were. She’d met me at the restaurant to tell me she liked me the way I was, and I was a totally different person when she arrived.

  Hoping to soothe her, I reached for her hand, engulfing her gloved fingers in mine, and relief passed over her features. Mission accomplished.

  In front of her building, I handed the driver a wad of cash and we ran toward the door. She fell into my shoulder as she punched in the security code to the building, and sparks flew in the air, floating with the flurries. I wrapped my arm around her as she led the way to her unit.

  I wasn’t sure why I was so giddy. I lived in California and she lived in New York. This couldn’t go anywhere, even if she wanted me. The old me or the new one, it really didn’t matter. We were just too damn far apart.

  “Come in.” Charli broke the silence as we stepped inside her loft, hanging her coat on a rack and reaching for mine. She stepped out of her heeled boots, leaving her feet in pink socks with red hearts, and her height cut by two or three inches.

  “Want me to take off my boots?”

  “That’d be great,” she said over her shoulder, walking toward a small kitchen area and flicking on the lights.

  The place was basically one open living area decorated in various shades of purple and cream. I assumed a bedroom and a bathroom must be tucked somewhere in the back. I glanced around, impressed; even a California boy like me knew that for New York standards, the place was posh.

  When she pulled a can from the cabinet and asked if I liked milk or water with my hot chocolate, I said, “Why don’t you make some for yourself? I’m actually not a huge fan.”

  “Oh.” Quickly regrouping, she stuck her head in the fridge. “I have beer, water, wine, but no soda.”

  “I’m good.”

  Not meeting my eyes, she busied herself, leaving a mug of water in the microwave to heat as she pulled out a tea bag. I came up behind her and caged her against the counter, my hands splayed on the counter and my front to her back. I wasn’t forcing it; she could move if she wanted, but she didn’t.

  I ran my nose down her cheek and breathed deeply, trying to control the fire raging inside me on this cold winter’s night. We stilled for a long moment, not speaking, me soaking her in through all my senses.

  “I like you, Charli,” I said softly, and I immediately wanted to take back my words. Rejection ran through my veins. It had happened before, and I didn’t think my blood was still tainted with it. But it was.

  She stared at the counter, her dark blond hair cascading forward around her face, the nape of her neck in plain view. Unable to resist, I kissed it, ran my lips over her skin like I had every right. Some type of urgency prompted me to touch her. Feel her. Inhale her. Do it all before she pushed back.

  “I want you in the worst way,” I admitted. “Ever since you sat next to me on the plane, my thoughts are a traffic jam of you. I think of you at the premiere in red. The way your fingers held chopsticks over sushi. My imagination runs wild, visualizing you reading my e-mails at work, in bed, or on your phone. Your smile. My head is like the 405 at rush hour when it comes to you. You’re in my head, and I never wanted to be stuck in traffic so badly.”

  “Layton,” she whispered.

  I lifted one hand from the counter and swiped her hair away from her profile. Just a breath away from her cheek, I noted the tiny crinkle next to her eye, the swipe of glitter on her cheek, and the small mole next to her ear.

  “Please don’t push me away,” I begged.

  “Layton.” Another whisper. “How can you want me? With how it ended last time? And how will you ever know that I really wanted you before you were a sexy god?” The side of her mouth turned up in a small smile.

  “Turn around.”

  “No.”

  “You think I’m a sexy god?”

  “I do.”

  “Turn around.”

  She twisted in my arms, but her gaze dropped to my chest. A tiny crease appeared between her brows when she said softly, “How will you ever believe that I’d come to realize I liked the old you?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Charli. I’m still me, and you’re here and I want you so bad.”

  “Kiss me.” Her words were soft, breathy, and her eyelashes fluttered the slightest bit over her half-lidded eyes.

  I tipped her chin, needing to see her. When our eyes met, I was certain they were mirror images of hunger and want.

  My heart pounding, I bent down and put my lips to hers. I kept the kiss soft, closed-mouth, a feather of a touch.

  She stood on tiptoes and pushed for more, so I took it even deeper. She let out a breath and my tongue slid inside her mouth, tasting her. Wasabi and cranberry from the cosmo commingled with her strawberry gloss, and I was ravenous for more. She was soft, silky perfection, not like me. I was rough around the edges, but I pushed my fears of snagging on her to the back of my mind. I wasn’t going to let my jagged imperfections get in the way.

  The microwave beeped, her tea long forgotten, disturbing our moment. I wanted to take a baseball bat to it. Charli simply raised her hand, hit a button, and brought the hand back to wander my cheek.

  I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “God, what you do to me. Do you get it? I’ve been chasing you across the whole country just for that moment.”

  Her knuckles grazed my chin, my stubble prickling her smooth skin. “I’m sorry we waited so long.”

  “I’m not. Good things are worth the wait. The best is worth waiting even longer.”

  “You’re the only one who ever got to me, made me believe I could have it all.”

  “You can,” I assured her.

  But could I? Where was this going?

  I refused to let my overactive mind ruin this moment so I bent back down to taste her, my hand weaving through her long hair and around her neck. I kissed along her cheek and jawline, licking and sucking my way to her ear. I ran my nose over her skin, inhaling her scent, stopping right at the tat.

  “What’s this?” I nibbled on her ear, unable to make my lips or teeth stop.

  “Some people call it the maloik, or the evil eye,” she said, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. “It supposedly wards off evil curses and provides protection and clarity. I needed it for me. To remind me not to curse myself.”

  My lips grazed the eye and murmured, “Christ, you’re perfect.”

  My erection pressed against her stomach, and when I leaned into her, she climbed my leg so it hit her where it mattered. I grabbed her ass and lifted her, thrilled when she wrapped her legs around my waist and moaned.

  My hand found its way inside the back of her jeans, exploring the globes of her ass. Firm, smooth, more perfection. Then she pressed harder into me, and for a second, I feared blacking out.

  She pulled back an inch and murmured, “Let’s go to my room.”

  “Which way?”

  “Back there.”

  I carried her, her legs locked around me, our mouths fused.

  She hit the light switch as I crossed the threshold, revealing
a bed that was a sea of lilac and pillows. I laid her down and used my arm to swipe the pillows on the floor, and then I simply stared at her for a beat. Charli, her chest rising and falling, her hair splayed all around her in a golden wash over the lavender, her lip gloss smudged on her lips.

  I stretched out next to her, still in the habit of not lying on top, even though I hadn’t fucked someone in months. There were only two women since I’d met Charli—one-night stands, blah and boring. My vision turned red for a moment as my thoughts ran to Charli with someone over the last few months.

  “You okay?” she asked, pushing the hair off my forehead with her delicate fingers.

  I nodded. I knew better than to start this talk right now. She didn’t think I was going to forgive her; she wasn’t going to wait for me. And I didn’t think she’d ever walk back my way with how fast she ran away.

  I slipped my hand under her sweater and explored the expanse of her smooth, flat stomach. Inching up toward her breasts, my finger traced her bra as my mouth found hers again. I wanted to get closer, to feel it all.

  “Can I take this off?”

  This time she nodded and I tugged her sweater over her head, then slid my hand over her hot pink bra. I pulled the right cup down and made my way toward her nipple with my tongue. I licked and laved, sucked and nibbled. She moaned and arched. It was a wet dream come to life.

  Charli turned a little more on her side and ran her hands under my Henley and up my back, skin to skin. I stopped kissing her to rest my forehead on hers, and took a deep breath. I knew what was coming and braced myself.

  She pulled my shirt off, keeping her eyes on me the entire time. I stared back, hoping she wouldn’t look at my body. I wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t so bad anymore. A little extra skin around my love handles. A scar on my pec from when I fell playing soccer when I was little. Someone’s cleat caught my shirt, digging right through it into my flesh, and I needed fifteen stitches.

  I was so caught up in my memories, Charli caught me by surprise when she ran her tongue over my flat nipple, her finger tracing that scar.

  I took her hand in mine and held it tight between our bodies as I shifted closer. We were skin to skin, except for the bra. I unhooked it and ran my free hand down her back into her pants and pulled her close. We ground on each other like a couple of teens afraid to get caught with their pants down.