Not Used To Cute

by Becca Seymour

  “Oh yes. Surprised as shit. It appears my brother has the hots for you something fierce, and you, Seb, seem to want him just as bad.”

  My body jerked, literally and embarrassingly jerked at her words, spilling my coffee in the process. The tension was back, as was a manic pounding of my heart. On top of that, I had hot coffee seeping through my tee, burning my skin.

  Harriet sprang out her seat, quickly grabbing my half-empty mug while I tugged my top away from my skin. Shit, it still burned. “Oh shit!” It was no use. I had to get the damn thing off. I yanked it over my head, and my skin cooled for a second before the heat returned. I glanced down at the large red patch on my right pec. It was so damn sore.

  “Bugger. Hold on. Let me get a cold cloth.” I glanced up and watched Harriet speed out of the room while I lowered my head and attempted to blow on my burn. Mid-blow, my head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and booted footsteps. Elijah stood wide-eyed and staring at my chest. Like a deer in headlights, I remained still, trapped in the intensity of his gaze.

  Still frozen, I watched as Elijah entered the room fully. His eyes slid up my body and then fixed on mine. His gaze didn’t waver as he moved closer. His wide-eyed look had since transformed into something different, something more. While the intensity remained, appreciation was evident as his eyes hooded, their focus entirely on me. I gulped, briefly wondering how events could spiral so quickly.

  “Here you go.” Harriet’s voice startled me. “Oh, Elijah, you’re here.” With a dripping cloth in her hand, she’d stopped not far from the door she’d exited from. She scrutinised the two of us, a smile on her lips. Seeming to remember herself, she then rushed forward, handing me the soaked cloth. In the few moments when Elijah and I had… connected—maybe?—the soreness of my burn had disappeared. With my heart no longer pounding quite so hard at Elijah’s roaming eyes, the pain reminded me it was there.

  “Thanks.” I gripped the cold cloth and held it to me. I winced and was sure I groaned.

  Elijah stepped forward, only stopping when he was directly in front of me. “What happened? You okay?”

  I had no choice but to look at him. Embarrassment, heat, and desire be damned. They had to take a back seat as my eyes fixed on his. The concern in his tone matched that on his face. “Yes,” I managed to say, struggling to know how to react to his concern. “I’m okay.”

  Harriet took that moment to intervene. “Honestly, he’s fine. Just let the cold water do its job.”

  I threw her a grateful look as my grip on the cloth to my chest loosened once more from when it had slackened off under Elijah’s scrutiny. I inhaled from the contact of the cold water, annoyed that I should have been better prepared. My reaction once again caused Elijah to respond. This time he reached out to me, pulling my hand gently away from my chest. My breath caught in my throat, but for a whole different reason.

  “Shit, we need to get you to the hospital.” His gaze flicked from my chest to my face, his brows furrowed and eyes searching mine.

  “Bloody hell, Elijah. Overprotective much? And I thought you were a nightmare with me.” Harriet angled her head to get a better look at my chest. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “Honestly, it looks sore as hell, but it seems more of a scald than a burn. It’ll be tender for a while, but he’ll be fine.” She cleared her throat, drawing my attention away from her brother and over to her.

  I arched my brow at her, wondering why she felt the need to reassure Elijah rather than me. Glancing at me, she smirked. “Sorry, obviously, you may want to see your GP or something, but it doesn’t scream urgent, you know?”

  I smiled, mildly amused at the turn of events, but still, I was sure it appeared as an embarrassed grimace.

  The wet cloth being removed from my hands brought my attention to Elijah. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked pissed off. But when he removed the cloth and placed it carefully against my chest, a new tenderness filled his eyes. They were locked on mine when he asked, “You didn’t tell me what happened.”

  That I hadn’t, nor did I plan to tell him the discussion that had led to my mishap. “Err.” I shifted uncomfortably. “I was a klutz and spilt my coffee, that’s all.”

  His eyes tightened as they zeroed in on me. “That’s all?”

  “Yep,” I answered far too quickly.

  He nodded, not appearing convinced, but it seemed as if he would give me a pass on this one. “Okay, well, are you ready to head home?”

  I nodded. “Sure. There’s a bus stop just down the road from the bar. If you can drop me there, I can get going.” After my bizarre day, I just wanted to head home, have another shower and a nap. I assumed Elijah would tell me what was going on with the police and a statement, and while I was curious, I was too tired to ask questions.

  “I’ll drop you home.” His voice was low and reeked of determination and no argument.

  I stared him in the eyes as his almost begged me to challenge him. Instead, I released a tired breath and simply answered, “Okay. Thanks.” I pulled my tee back on.

  He then turned to Harriet. “You got a lid here?”

  I watched Harriet smirk before heading out of the room once again. A moment later, she appeared with a helmet and a leather jacket. “These are Drake’s. He won’t mind.”

  Taking them off her, Elijah turned to me. “Here. Put these on.”

  My stomach dipped, and I swear to God my knees actually wobbled. “Huh?” It wasn’t my most articulate of answers, but my brain-to-mouth function was struggling to keep up.

  Elijah unceremoniously placed and secured the helmet on my head while I stood there dumbstruck. He then indicated for me to place my arms in the jacket, which he held out for me. I did so dutifully before standing before him as he did up my zip. Apparently, I’d lost my ability to dress myself. No way would I usually allow anyone to get away with manhandling me in such a way, but my brain was still swirling with the fact that I had a helmet on my damn head. “So, does this mean I’m going on your bike?”

  His lips twitched, which, while glorious, didn’t ease the pounding of my heart. He wriggled the helmet around on my head a moment, then seemingly satisfied, he dropped his hands. “Problem?”

  I risked a glance at Harriet, who had since sat down but was looking at us as though we were offering her free entertainment.

  “Seb.”

  My head whipped back to Elijah. My heart did a little flippety-flop, reacting to the sound of my name from his lips. It was deep, yet smooth like delicious chocolate. Refocusing my gaze on the man before me, I had a hard time concentrating on anything.

  “Seb?” There went his delectable tone again as he rasped my name.

  I shook my head, which caused Elijah to raise his brow. He looked concerned. Heck, it was a wonder he was willing to risk me going on his bike when I clearly couldn’t keep a straight thought or remain focussed. Even more than that, I knew how much his bike meant to him. It was black and shiny. Admittedly, that was as much as I knew. While I knew my cars, my knowledge of bikes was unimpressive.

  A few guys who worked for Elijah also had motorbikes and had tried several times to give me a crash course as they introduced me to the world of speed and engines with a collection of magazines they kept around. My glazed expression had them soon backtracking, realising it was a lost cause. Now a surfboard, I’d be all over that shit.

  “Huh?” Nope. There was still no chance of being mistaken for someone eloquent. Not with my stellar dialogue, anyhow.

  “You been on a motorbike before?” he pressed.

  I gave a half shrug and nibbled on my bottom lip as I tried to concentrate on his question and giving him a proper answer. It was so bloody hard. Him being so close and repeating my name was distracting. His gaze dropped to my lips before I released the tender skin and answered, “I can ride a push bike.” I paused and watched an almost comical eye-popping reaction from Elijah. I also heard a snicker from his sister.

  A thought popped into my overstrained he
ad. “Oh, yes. I went on a dirt bike when I was a kid. I forgot how to brake though and rode right into a fence.” I lifted my arm, turned it so my elbow was raised, and eyed it. “Ran into barbed wire. That’s how I got this scar.” I shrugged one arm out of the jacket and glanced at it, then at Elijah. He eyed my arm warily before a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. My heart thrummed at the movement, and I continued to speak. “It really hurt. I needed six stitches. I went on a moped once too. It was fun.” I scrunched my nose.

  “What happened?” Elijah asked, amused.

  “Well, I kinda freaked a little and grabbed on to Darren, one of my cousins, a little too hard. I think I scared him. I may have screamed a little as well. Anyway, he ended up, I don’t know, mounting a kerb. It flipped us both off. I was lucky though, but Darren didn’t really think so.”

  He coughed lightly, and I was sure he was hiding a laugh. “Why’s that?”

  I liked the sound that lifted his voice. I took a brief second to look at him. His eyes seemed brighter, less strained, and I was sure it was because of the generous smile that curved his lips. “Well, I kinda forgot to let go of Darren, so when we flipped, and I mean”—I spun my hands in the air, brushing against his chest briefly as I did so—“we really flipped. I landed on him. The doctor said that his injuries, rather than gravel rash or anything, were more than likely caused by me holding so tightly on to him and landing on him so hard.” At this, Elijah’s gaze roamed my body.

  He quirked a brow. “I can’t imagine you landing that hard.” My eyes widened at the heat in his eyes. “You’re so small. There’s nothing to you.”

  My heart sank at his words. And never one to hide my feelings or my expressions well, I knew my face mirrored my plummeting emotions. It was crazy, I knew. But the constant focus on my size, usually accompanied by comments intended to get under my skin, got me riled up. This wasn’t little man syndrome level stuff either. I wasn’t the five-foot-six guy who went around saying I’d bash everyone in, but I admittedly had a complex after years of bullying. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it simply was.

  It also made it hard to feel masculine when those around me treated me as something less, or something breakable. Insignificant. My cheeks heated as I gulped back my emotions. I willed my hands not to clench.

  Controlling my breath after a painful gulp, I forced a smile, my eyes finally refocusing on Elijah. His features softened; his smiling face gone. Concern instead rested there, as well as a tight jaw that ticked.

  “Harriet.” His voice made me tense. “Head to the kitchen a minute, yeah?” As much as I wanted to pull my eyes away from the rigid Elijah in front of me, question his request, I couldn’t. I stood frozen, though was aware of Harriet leaving us from the soft padding of her feet and the opening and closing of a door. “Seb.” The pitch of my name from his lips was low, but this time the word was accompanied by his hand cupping my cheek. “Breathe.”

  Heck, that was a great idea. I should really do that. I parted my lips and inhaled deeply. The rush of air flowed through my lungs but did nothing for the erratic pounding of my heart. His hand on my face, touching my skin, the slightest of caresses was quickly spiralling to be too much. Breathe. I really did suck at the most basic of things.

  “What happened?”

  His words registered though made no sense.

  “Just,” he clarified, “everything was fine. You smiled, then it all changed. I lost it.”

  “Lost it?” I was convinced I’d been dropped into a conversation midpoint as I floundered to catch up. Elijah was direct, as I was, or usually was. I liked that about him. A lot. But he also had a habit of using clipped questions, or short sentences that took me a while to work out what he meant.

  “I lost your smile.”

  “Oh.” Oh! What the heck was a guy to say to that? Yeah, he’d asked a question that he wanted answered, but hot damn, that he’d lost my smile? I really hoped to God that that meant what I thought it meant. But far out, I wasn’t sure my heart could handle a man like Elijah.

  From the moment we’d met at his bar, there’d been a connection. It was undeniable, but still, at work he kept his distance. Admittedly, he took time out to make sure I was coping and settling in okay, but he was the boss. And he occasionally brought me treats. And maybe we chatted about a few things other than work sometimes. It was his job. Right? Right? Okay, so perhaps he didn’t quite keep his distance at work.

  And then when I’d told him about what had happened with the paint, he’d seemed to have lost his guard for a few seconds and had mentioned an “us.” At the time, a flurry of activity had burst free in my gut, pretty similar to the havoc currently taking place there. The thought that it was more, the possibility that he could actually like me like me and that Harriet was right…. Then there was the mention of that kiss, which I was sure had happened and hadn’t been a figment of my imagination brought on by shock.

  Heat crept through my body. I had no idea where it travelled from or was heading to, but my senses flared to life. The subtle shift of his fingers as they still made contact with my cheek, the fresh masculine scent of his aftershave hovering between the two of us, the controlled sound of his breathing, which actually deepened a little… all caught up with me and, honest to God, weakened my knees.

  I wobbled a little, and he reached out his other hand, not realising I’d been leaning into him. He placed his hand on my hip to steady me.

  Not quite flush with him, it didn’t seem to matter as his body heat pushed against me. Warmth that was welcome and comforting pulled me in and made unbidden words spill forth. “You like my smile?” When his lips moved and it looked like he was about to speak, my filter vanished, was whisked away into the abyss and I was powerless to stop it.

  “So does this mean you like me”—please stop—“because if you do, which is great, but are you sure? It’s just that you said I was, well you know, small and stuff, and I don’t know, everyone at work says you’re into big guys, or at least bigger than me.” Please, make it stop. I didn’t listen to myself, despite my last comment causing his brows to lift. “You just don’t seem like the kind of guy that would go for someone like me. It’s just, I’m not saying I’ve been bashed with the ugly stick or anything”—a nervous, awful laugh escaped my lips, carrying my words—“I know some people think I’m good-looking. Not that I’m vain or anything. Nothing like that. But I saw some of the men at the bar who I know you’ve hooked up with, and they’re nothing like me. They have a good few inches on me—in height,” I quickly added. “I’m packing, and”—for the love of all that is holy, make it stop. I prayed for a hole, a tsunami, a vortex—“anyway, I just, well, I like it when you smile, too.” I finally ran out of steam with no clue what I was talking about or even if I had a point or answered his damn question.

  I dug down for my self-control and willed myself to keep my lips firmly sealed. I knew I’d farted words at him. And somehow, miraculously, he was still before me, still with his hand on my hip, yet his expression I couldn’t quite figure out.

  I was tempted to reach out and smooth the two lines between his brows. I’d put them there, that was a given, but despite the lines, he didn’t exactly wear a frown. Nor was he smiling.

  The seconds ticked by, and my ability to remain quiet became increasingly difficult. I hated silence at the best of times, but awkward silence was a killer. I opened my mouth, willpower blown, when his hand on my cheek shifted and his thumb covered my lips.

  My breath hitched at the contact, my pulse picking up when his gaze wandered my face, spending a fraction longer on my lips before returning to my eyes. There was a moment, a blissful, perfect moment when I thought he would kiss me. I read it in the intensity of his stare, felt it in the air crackling between us. His words, though, had me swallowing my emotions and wanting to crawl into myself and hide. My mouth and I always got us in trouble, and if not in trouble, overlooked or pushed aside.

  “Cole’s still outside.” His voice, whil
e low and gravelly, held an edge and distance that wasn’t there earlier. He pulled his hands away and stepped back, leaving behind a cool, unwelcome chasm. “I’ll get him to take you home.”

  I stared back at him, the ice of rejection hitting me hard. But there went my fake smile again. “Okay. Thanks for everything.” The words tasted bitter. In my own bumbling way, I’d thought I’d put myself out there. Admittedly it was a mess of words. He was allowed to say no, even without those actual words. Didn’t mean I didn’t feel sucker punched as he turned and headed to the door, I assumed to speak to Cole, who I hadn’t even realised was here.

  Five

  Elijah

  “What on earth did you do?” Harriet’s tone didn’t match the incredulity of her words. She was disappointed, and fuck… sad.

  I wiped my palm over my face. “Drake will be here in five, then I’m heading out.” I turned to look at my sister. I’d expected her to be standing with hands on hips, a fierce look of contempt and disapproval prominent. I was wrong. Tears were in her eyes, and I had no idea why. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, and while her head dipped slightly, her eyes kept flicking to mine.

  “Seriously? What’s wrong?” I asked. For many years I’d been my sister’s only protector, her only family, and while she now had Drake, all it took was a small hint of her being in distress and I was ready to solve all of her problems. She’d been through so much that it was impossible to change my ways. Truth be told, I never would.

  “You.”

  “Me what?”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  Seb.

  I closed my eyes and released a heavy breath. Looking back at Harriet, I said, “Do what?” I knew she’d call bullshit, but I did not want to talk about Seb, about what the hell was going on in my head about the man who’d entered my life like a tornado. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to my baby sister about it.