“I’m enjoying yours too,” I say so quietly, I’m not sure he can even hear me over the intense throb of the music.
“Well, my company comes at a price,” he winks.
“Okay, you want a real secret?” I lean in close, mostly toying with him because I still have no idea what said secret is going to be.
“Yes. Extra points if it’s embarrassing,” he prompts, leaning in even closer. His lagoon eyes are twinkling from the lights overhead, and now that I have a good view of him when we’re not bouncing around on the dance floor, I almost gasp in awe. The phrase devilishly handsome comes to mind. With a strong jawline, lips that are full, and a cleft chin, he’s like the sexier modern-day version of James Dean or something. Good God, he has me pressing my thighs together as I stare into his eyes. Biting my lip, I finally think of something that’s a secret no one else knows. And it’s pretty damn embarrassing too.
My face is full-on red now. Should I tell him this, or not?
“I got in such a rush to get out of my apartment tonight, I forgot to wear underwear,” I blurt, slamming my forehead into my palms in humiliation.
And he just barks out the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard. “That was not what I was expecting at all,” he remarks when he finally catches his breath, still smiling.
I glare at him. “It’s not that funny. God. I can’t believe I did that, and then, I can’t believe I freaking admitted it to you. But I couldn’t think of anything more humiliating when my current predicament is front and center.” A slight giggle escapes my lips.
The cocktail waitress returns with our drinks and Pierce’s card. He signs the slip then passes my drink over to me.
“So, you think you’ll be able to handle a real man’s drink?” he husks.
I scoff, taking the glass and placing it to my lips, throwing it back and taking several large swigs as I attempt to ignore the taste of straight alcohol—so different from the mixed drinks I’m used to. Sitting it down, I wag my eyebrows at him cheekily. “See. I can handle a real man’s any-thing.” I cover my mouth and shake my head when I realize how that sounded. God, I’m such an idiot.
Pierce glances at me sidelong, a clearly amused smirk playing at his lips. “I think that alcohol is already going to your head, young lady,” he teases.
I scowl in response. “Heeeey,” I whine, “I’m not that much younger than you are.”
“And how would you know?”
“I may have been nosey and taken a glance at your I.D. when you pulled out your card to pay. You’re only twenty-nine. Although, if I’m being honest, you don’t really look it at all.” I shrug my shoulders unapologetically.
“Clever girl. Can’t fault you for being aware of your surroundings. I don’t even know your age,” he hints.
“And you don’t need to. It’s just a number. It’s probably the least important thing about me in the grand scheme of things.” I am not going down this rough, unpaved road again. Not this time.
Luckily, my justification seems to appease him.
“Aren’t you going to tell me a secret now?” I request as he stretches his arm out onto the back of the booth behind me. “It’s only fair. How will I come to trust you if you’re hiding your old age from me and not partaking in equal exchanges of information between us? It’s time to balance out the scales. Let’s hear something embarrassing,” I say, a little overexcited as I wait to hear what he’ll tell me about himself.
Let’s see if he can top my commando incident.
Rubbing his chin as he pretends to think about his answer in depth, I tilt back my drink and consume the very last watered down drop of it.
“Come on now, don’t hold back on me.” I lay my hand on his knee without much thought; for some stupid reason, I'm already completely at ease with a stranger. His eyes glance down at my hand, but he doesn’t move it, just smirks a bit and pretends to have not noticed.
“Okay. You first gave me honesty, then you gave me a secret, one that was embarrassing so forgive me for being at a loss for how to top all that. You’ve certainly set the bar high. How about this one? I don’t do relationships. I’m ashamed to admit I do one night stands that turn into never contacting each other again. Girls are all a dime a dozen to me. They come and they go like dollar bills. But about a month or so ago, I came to this club after a rough day at work, seeking a quick lay. I never go after a girl. I wait until a suitable one comes to me.
“But what I found, was this innocent yet sensual redhead out on the dance floor. And I sought her out. Even though I think I could have just led her off the dance floor that night, sidestepping all the bullshit, and took her straight home—I found myself wanting to get to know her. A perfect stranger had just changed my whole routine, in an instant. Then she ran away when the clock struck midnight, giving me no way to contact her. I’ve been here nearly every night since in hopes I’d see you again.”
A whoosh of air leaves my lungs and I’m struck speechless. I reach over and take his glass from his hand, taking a sip of it since mine’s gone. His eyes watch me intently to see how I’m taking his admission, and to be honest, I don’t even know the answer to that one right now.
“That was immensely surprising. And a little heavy. And how exactly was that secret embarrassing?” I finally find my words again.
His lips twitch before he responds. “It’s embarrassing because it makes me sound like I go around constantly spouting off cheesy lines from movies, and I feel like I’m living out a Rom-Com. I’ve never met this version of myself until you. This version isn’t smooth at all.” He laughs, scratching the back of his neck with a hint of vulnerability.
“I don’t know about that. It was pretty damn smooth,” I admit. “Are you trying to say you’d like to get to know me? Is that it?”
I realize my hand is still on his knee as he moves his hand to rest over it. “Very much so,” he admits.
I smile gingerly. “Good. Because I could use a friend right now. You want to dance again?”
“Very much so,” he repeats with a grin that’s almost blinding.
And when the night draws to a close, he doesn’t try to take me back to his place like I pushed for that first night. It’s almost as if he can read me, like he knows I’m going through something and my emotions are a little messy. Instead, he bids me goodnight and gives me his number so we can hang out again sometime.
“I’m glad I met you, Kate. I don’t do this sort of thing, the whole going above and beyond in attempting to get to know someone else. The closest thing I have to even just a friendship is probably with my employees. And they just work for me. You’re…a breath of fresh air,” he says. Briefly, his lips press to my temple before he pulls away to head to his car.
It’s crazy how I can enjoy myself without even realizing I’m doing so in his presence. I don’t feel guilty, or shameful, or anything other than content. And I’m not nearly as depressed as I was when the day began.
Chapter Eleven
I LINGER AROUND the front of the building, giving him adequate time to leave. A lecture from someone I’m just getting to know isn’t exactly what I would call getting off on the right foot. Technically, we already got off on the wrong foot the first time around. This is take two.
After a few minutes have passed, I begin the slow walk home. It’s after one in the morning and darkness has fallen over the city like a thick fog; the dimmed lights overhead flickering every few seconds and lending very little aid. The same street that’s hustling and bustling during the day only seems to have one occupant tonight: Me.
Nervous energy settles into my stomach, causing my heels to strike the cracked sidewalk in haste. It’s a twelve minute walk from home, eight if I’m wearing tennis shoes, three if I were to drive. Tonight, I’m at the slower end of the spectrum. Lucky me. All the more reason to get there as quickly as possible.
I notice the street growing more illuminated before the low hum of an engine reaches my ears. A car is creeping up behind me. That scenario
usually means nothing but bad news for a woman out by herself after dark. I’ve not even made it two blocks from the club, so running isn’t an option. Especially in these shoes. Fear claws at my insides. I pull my clutch up to my torso, gripping it in both hands now in case I need to open it in a hurry.
“Kate,” Pierce’s taut, masculine voice calls out, and all my fear dissolves away. Relieved, I turn to find him in a shiny new sports car with a silvery-matte paint job reminding me of gunmetal. A pitchfork or trident looking emblem is displayed sharply on the hood.
But my relief turns to anger when he opens his mouth again. “Are you insane? You can’t walk around the city at night. It isn’t safe for a woman. Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
I stomp my heel against the ground—okay, more like tap because I’m not about to snap those suckers off and ruin them, but I’m sure he gets the effect I’m going for—and then glare at him.
“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself,” I argue, spinning back to continue toward my destination.
Even over the low hum of his car, I can hear him chuckle.
“Oh, I’m quite sure you can. But it would make me feel better knowing you’re safe. Just allow me to see you home.”
I glance back at him as I continue to walk. The fool is driving against oncoming traffic, though the street is technically devoid of moving vehicles, but still…
“No,” I huff.
“No?” He arches an eyebrow as his eyes dance with something bordering between amusement and irritation.
“No.” I stretch out the word as if it’s composed of endless o’s. “I don’t need someone to ensure my safety. I can ensure my own. Trust me.” I think of the pocket-sized pistol in my purse which I sometimes like to refer to as fun-sized.
I’ve been ensuring my own safety since before I was even a teenager.
“Fine. Suit yourself,” he concedes, but doesn’t drive away.
I attempt to ignore him just as I attempt to ignore the blisters forming on the back of my ankles. These strappy heels are stellar sexy, the perfect shoes for a night out. The ideal shoes for lengthening my legs. The most tried and true shoes for catching a man’s eye.
As fate would have it, they can’t perform in every category across the board. They aren’t a winner in the comfort department. With each onward step I take, the blister on the back of each heel grows larger and I can only imagine, deepens in color. These stupid shoes aren’t for the faint of heart.
I just keep chanting in my head, “Beauty is pain. Fashion is favorable. Don’t let him notice. Beauty is pain. Fashion is favorable. Don’t let him see. Beauty is pain. Fashion is…fucking annoying.” Still, I push onward. I don’t limp. I don’t stop to adjust the straps.
And being the persistent fellow he apparently is, he just keeps following right alongside me.
“Usually, once you agree with someone after you’re told no, you back off. Or, in this case, this is when you drive away,” I point out to him, rolling my eyes at his persistence.
“I’m simply respecting your wishes of not getting in my car while still satisfying my need to escort you home safely.”
God. He so doesn’t know a thing about me. I’ve been taking care of myself, and sometimes even my mom, for years. I don’t like him assuming I’m some softy who’s fragile and breakable, even if statistically speaking, it is more dangerous for women to walk around alone than for men.
And while I hardly know Pierce, his habits once again convey to me he’s a bit chivalrous. It’s highly unlikely he’s going to take no for an answer in this instance.
“A Knight-in-shining-armor isn’t required tonight,” I mumble under my breath.
“What’s that?” he asks, having apparently not heard my complaint.
“I said a Knight-in-shining-armor isn’t required,” I grumble again, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the chill in the air.
“Hm. Are you cataloging me as that just because you know I’m British?” His light and teasing voice inquires from slightly over my shoulder.
“Among other things.” Like your resolve in regards to women needing to be escorted. Next thing I know, he’ll be pulling to the side and walking me arm-in-arm all the way home since I keep refusing him. I sigh aloud as the gears of my mind begin to churn. If he’s going to follow me, he’s going to see where I live anyway.
And then there’s that issue over my feet aching like crazy…
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, sliding off my heels.
“Careful now,” I hear him call out the window in good-humor, “Wouldn’t want to moon this half of the city with that short little number, would we?”
I growl as I cautiously advance toward the passenger-side door and climb inside. Eyeing him speculatively, I throw out there, “And here I was thinking our friendship was growing by leaps and bounds. I thought I had a new bestie. Now you’re testing the boundaries of my independence as a woman and taking away my ability to say no.”
Overly dramatic. Yes, I’m aware.
Throwing his hands up in surrender he replies, “I didn’t take away your ability to say no. I was just making sure nothing happened to my friend on her walk home. I let you make the decision on your own. End of,” he levels with me.
He does have a point there.
“You win. Here I am.” I sigh, snapping my seatbelt latch into its buckle. “My apartment complex is a few blocks north. It’s H&W Heights. Do you know of it?”
Before he even responds, he takes the next left and begins driving in the direction I requested. Peering over at him curiously, I find his face alight with entertainment.
“Yes. I know it. Very well,” he replies with a nod.
“Very well? What does that mean?”
He shrugs but doesn’t answer.
“Is your Monday night booty-call living in the same complex as me?” I ask teasingly. “I’d hate to get you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry,” he teases right back, “I still have Tuesday through Sunday lined up. I heard it was good to partake in a day of rest anyway.”
I can’t help but giggle. “Do you live in this direction?”
“No. I live in the opposite direction,” he admits.
“Then why were you driving this way tonight?” My curiosity gets the better of me again.
“Because I sat there watching to make sure you had a way home and saw you take off walking. Why didn’t you just ask for a ride? Did you hang around an extra few minutes to make sure I didn’t offer you a ride home?” he inquires, shooting me a quizzical look.
I bite on my bottom lip, feeling like a kid who’s been caught red-handed. Ding. Ding. Ding. Guilty. Shrugging, I lower my voice and answer, “Maybe?”
He narrows his eyes causing me to wince. “I thought I made it clear I wanted to get to know you tonight. None of that stuff from the first time we met. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. Besides, I have a hunch you need to collect yourself and sort things out before you jump into a physical relationship just yet.”
His insightfulness and the fact that there are no expectations is a relief. Maybe I can just have fun with someone and keep things light after all. “You’re probably right,” I grumble. “But I still want to hang out with you again. Or whatever being friends is referred to when you’re an adult.”
We both laugh at this.
“Sounds like a plan.” He flashes me a brilliant smile.
The engine’s purr dips to a low growl as we pull into my apartment complex seconds later. Pulling up to the security post, he waves to the guard, who in return just waves him on through.
“Hey. What the heck? You just get to pass on through without even speaking to the guy? What are you, royalty or something?” My shocked response feeds the words back to him that he used on me that first night. “I get checked every time I come through.”
Pierce shrugs as if it’s a mystery to him as well, before answering, “Guess he recognizes me.” He d
oesn’t go into detail but asks for more specific directions to my building. Naturally, he insists upon walking me to my door after he throws the car in park after he pulls into a parking space. Since he already knows which building I reside in, I figure, what’s it really going to harm if he also knows the apartment number?
So, I allow it.
As we head up the sidewalk toward the building, I don’t even attempt to hide that my feet are in pain anymore. “Ugh. I wish whoever built the apartments would have put an elevator in the buildings. I’m out of practice with wearing heels. I hardly ever do so.” I sigh, preparing for the climb up and not looking forward to it.
“Which floor is your apartment on?” he questions.
“The third,” I groan, taking a step forward toward the first stair. He stops me in my tracks by dropping his arm out to the side like a toll gate, the back of his knuckles skim my stomach in the process. I shudder reflexively, and can only pray it escapes his notice.
“Well, Kate,” he shoots me a wink, “your wish is my command.”
Before I can question what that even means, he whisks me off my feet and begins taking the steps two at a time like it’s nothing; like I’m nothing more than the clothes on his back and not an extra hundred and thirty pounds of added weight.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shriek, clutching him frantically.
Somehow, despite feeling like flailing around in a panic, I’m still capable of seeing reason. Freaking out would just make him lose his balance and probably break both our necks. That thought only adds to my terror.
“I’m helping a damsel in distress. I’m being your elevator.” He chuckles at my reaction, surprising me by the fact that he’s not winded at all.
I’d like to ride you like an elevator…I shake my head, smacking the thought away and remind myself that he is treating me like a frail rose again. “I am NOT a damsel in distress,” I insist begrudgingly. When I glare up into his piercing blue eyes, my hateful tone instantly melts away.
“No, you’re not.” His suddenly rough tone disagrees with his words. He clears the scratchiness away before adding, “but it’s fun to pretend sometimes. You can’t always suffer through everything alone. Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help, you know. Even if it’s just that your shoes are killing those beautiful feet of yours, and especially if it’s something more daunting.”
Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series Page 9