by S. C. Wynne
“Of course.” He looked uncomfortable for the first time since I’d met him.
I glanced toward the entrance, scowling. “What the hell kind of idiot makes plans to meet you on Christmas Eve then doesn’t show?” I felt irritable all at once. The mention of my parents set me on edge now.
Chase held his tongue, watching me.
I threw back the remainder of his drink, and stood. “I’m gonna take off.”
“I wish you’d stay.”
“I’ve got things to do.”
He twisted his lips, looking skeptical. “No, you don’t.”
I stifled a smile. “I’m not in the mood to be here anymore.”
“Good. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“You’re one persistent little bastard,” I said softly.
He stood, and leaned into me. A muscle pulsed in his smooth cheek, and his breath quickened. He smelled of citrus with a hint of tequila on his breath, and I got hard at his wanton expression.
“I like you,” he whispered.
His lips were close to mine. My heart pounded and everything in me wanted to kiss him. But as usual, I was too much of a coward.
“We don’t know each other, and I’m not an impulsive person,” I said under my breath.
“I have a studio apartment upstairs. It’s quieter and we can talk, get to know each other better.”
I wavered. My body said hell yes, but my mind called it a risky move. You don’t fuck people and feel nothing. You’re not like him.
“I don’t know. Maybe I look like I’m more experienced than I am,” I said nervously.
Humor lit up his gaze when he answered. “You don’t, not at all and that’s a good thing.”
He took my hand. His skin felt warm and firm. I couldn’t deny I wanted to spend more time with him alone. At the moment, he fascinated me as much as my books. That said something.
“You live above the bar?”
“It’s very quiet.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Come with me, see for yourself. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
I released a slow breath, eyeing his smooth skin and his lean body. There were so many things I’d like to do with him. Or to him. If I were braver.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“But we hardly know each other.”
“That’s why I’m suggesting we go upstairs.” He smiled sheepishly. “Look, I’m not going to lie. I would love it if you’d come up and fool around with me. But I would never force anything on you, and I want to learn more about you as a person, too.”
I gave one last look around. There were tons of Santa and Reindeer antler hats, but no one wearing a red carnation. Grace couldn’t blame me if I left. I’d waited over an hour for this person to show up. I considered taking Chase up on his offer until I heard him swear under his breath.
“Oh, crap,” Chase said. “That must be him.”
I twisted to see who he was looking at. A twenty something guy, as tall as a street lamp, made his way through the crowd and up to the bar area. Mousy brown hair, sharp features and a cheap polyester black suit with a red carnation. Oh crap, alright.
I swallowed roughly, feeling let down. “What do I do now?”
“Maybe it’s not him.” Chase didn’t sound convinced.
“Is that suit polyester? Even I don’t wear suits that lame.”
“Is there any way he’d know who you are?” Chase looked as if he had an idea. “I mean, unless you tell him?”
“Not really. He has my general description, but he’s expecting me to be alone, and I’m with you.”
Chase’s expression sharpened. “Damn straight you are.”
A little thrill went through me at the possessiveness in his voice. But how would I get out of this now?
“Listen, let’s stand near him and get a feel for what he’s like.”
“Why?” I frowned. “He doesn’t look like my type anyway.”
Chase shrugged. “If he seems like a jerk at least you won’t feel guilty about ditching him.”
“What if he’s amazing?” I asked.
“Then we’ll duel over you. I don’t know, but I think you’d feel better if you have a reason to ditch him. You seem like the honorable type.”
“It’s worth a try. Grace would have no right to be mad at me if the guy’s an idiot or something.”
“Exactly.”
The guy positioned himself at the bar in a way that allowed him to scope the room. Chase and I wormed our way a couple of seats over. My heart tried to jump from my chest as I watched the newcomer out of the corner of my eye.
Grace hadn’t told me much about him, other than his name was Dave and he liked to read. But I had the feeling my sister hadn’t really been thinking of making a love connection so much as a get Peter out of his apartment connection.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” Chase said to the guy.
My anxiety skyrocketed when Chase spoke. I turned away briefly to take a swig off my drink. I looked back to see the new guy giving Chase a head to toe once over. He seemed to approve of what he saw.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” he said. His eyes were pale and a small mustache framed his thin lips.
“Are you here alone?” Chase asked.
The guy hesitated before answering. “I am.”
I waited for him to add he’d come to meet someone, but he didn’t continue. Strike one. If he was my date, at least like me, he stood no chance against Chase’s charms.
“Sucks being alone on Christmas Eve, doesn’t it?” Chase asked.
“Um … yeah, that’s why I decided hey, what the heck I’ll just go out to a club or something,” he said.
“You’re kind of late to the party,” Chase said.
“I know. I wasn’t sure I’d bother coming at all. In fact I’d decided I wasn’t and my … uh … friend called and nagged me to get over here.” New guy rolled his eyes.
The bartender distracted the guy for a moment and I whispered to Chase, “What if it’s not him? What if this is just some guy who likes red carnations?”
Chase nodded. “Did your sister tell you your date’s name?”
“It’s Dave.”
Chase turned back to the guy. “Is your friend here? The one who nagged you?”
The guy chewed his lip. “My friend wasn’t—no.”
Chase smiled and the new guy’s expression melted.
“Was that your answer?” Chase asked.
The guy leaned toward Chase and said softly, “Does it really matter what brought me here? I’m here now and you’re here now. That’s good enough for me.”
My toes curled in my shoes at his leering voice. I also had to acknowledge the spike of jealousy that hit me. If this turned out to be the guy, he acted like a jerk, and if it wasn’t him he still seemed like a creep.
Smooth as silk, Chase offered his hand. “Name’s Chase.”
“Nice to meet you, Chase,” the guy said. “I’m Dave.”
Chase pulled his hand from Dave’s smarmy one and twisted to me. “Good enough?”
I nodded and stood, almost feeling sorry for Dave’s obvious confusion. Almost.
“Well, we’ve got to be going,” Chase said. “Tell Grace things just aren’t going to work out between you and Peter.”
“I don’t understand.” Dave looked baffled.
“Let me explain. It’s really quite simple. You came here to meet Peter on a blind date arranged by his sister Grace.”
“Oh, I’m Peter, by the way.” I waved and Dave’s eyes flickered.
“But I met him first because you were super late.”
“I mean, not even a phone call, dude. Pretty rude,” I said.
“You’re Peter?” Dave asked.
“Plus, it seems you’re kind of a prick who isn’t deserving of a great guy like Peter, so I think I’m going to take him instead.”
“You know Grace?” Dave asked, looking bewildered.
“Tha
t’s all he got out of that?” I asked.
“Can we go now?” Chase tugged at my arm. He cast a scornful glance at Dave. “He’s going to put me in a bad mood.”
“Okay.”
He beamed and didn’t waste any time pulling me after him. We pushed through the crowd, slowly making our way toward the entrance. He didn’t notice, but I observed at least three very surprised faces when they saw whose hand he held. The bouncer nodded at Chase as we passed, and frowned when he caught sight of me. I guess I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
When we reached the lobby, he headed toward a big door I’d never noticed before, tucked in the back. There were stairs. Lots of them and we puffed our way to the top, Chase leading the charge.
“Do you pick your companions based on whether or not they look like they could survive the climb up to your apartment?” I wheezed.
He gave a breathless laugh. “I’ve begged my dad to put in an elevator, but he says it’s too expensive.”
We eventually reached a landing where there were three black lacquered doors with brass letters attached. We headed to apartment B.
With a jangle of keys, he opened the door and swung it wide for me.
“Welcome to my lair.” He rubbed his hands together fiendishly.
“You’re not a serial killer, right?”
“Nah.”
His apartment looked nothing like I’d expected. The walls were warm oatmeal, with walnut floors and bookshelves filled with actual books. I didn’t see that a lot. People just stuffed their bookcases with knick-knacks and CD’s these days. A moss-green sofa and big arm chair with side tables were positioned in front of a small brick fireplace. A Van Gogh copycat hung over the white mantel, where an Eifel Tower-shaped lamp cast warm, golden light into the room. I noticed a small kitchen off to the side, with brown tiled floors and steel appliances. And another closed door most likely his bedroom.
“Would you like some wine?” he asked.
I nodded, still staring at the room in silence. I moved to the books, lovingly running my hands along the stiff spines. He even had hard covers. No one bothered plunking down the extra money on those anymore.
“White or red?”
“Red, please,” I said. I continued stroking the books, and one in particular caught my eye. I gently pried it from between the other books. “Oh my God, you have a first edition by Ernest Hemmingway?”
“It would appear I do.”
“The last time I checked prices this book would go for six hundred dollars.” I thought I might hyperventilate.
“I don’t remember how much it was, but whatever the price it would be worth it.”
“I’d keep it in a vault if I were you.”
He poured the wine, and placed a pile of big square brownies on a plate before carrying them out of the kitchen. “Close your mouth. Come over here and sit by me.”
I snapped my mouth shut, and carefully put the book back where I’d found it. I took my glass and followed him to the couch. “Are those books yours?”
He nodded, holding out the plate of brownies to me. “I’m starving, and I assume you must be too,” he said, biting into a brownie.
“I didn’t have dinner since I was waiting for that guy.” I grabbed a soft chocolate brownie and chomped down. “So you like books?”
“I love books,” he said, his expression enigmatic. “Do you notice how peaceful it is up here?”
I laughed, covering my mouth so my brownie didn’t fly out. “You win. I would never know you live over a club.”
He took his shoes off, dropping them soundlessly to the floor, and curled his feet under his legs. “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar.”
“You’re mighty flexible,” I said, admiring his graceful pose. “I think I would break something if I tried to sit like that.”
“I used to do gymnastics when I was younger.”
I tried to ignore all the images of him in multiple positions instantly flying into my brain. I didn’t do well though because I felt my crotch heat up.
Chase finished with his brownie, and sat, sipping his wine. He’d removed his red hoodie, and wore a white cotton t-shirt and his jeans. He still looked cool, and perfect. I looked down at myself and frowned.
“I’m still in the dark as to why you like me,” I said. Why couldn’t I be happy, instead of feeling inferior?
“Look around you. Was this what you expected my place to look like?”
I flushed. “No.”
“Did you think it would be pink fluffy pillows and cats roaming around?”
“Nothing like that. I thought it would be colder and more modern.”
He frowned. “Do I look cold?”
“No, but you look modern.”
“It’s just window dressing.” He shifted uncomfortably and pointed to his chest. “I’m not modern in here.”
I grinned. “Well, that was way too corny to be cool.”
“Screw you.” He laughed.
I didn’t answer, too afraid I’d say yes, please, and I wasn’t sure exactly what I intended to do tonight. I knew what I wanted to do, but I might be starting to like him too much.
“Is this your place?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s an odd setup. I’m an only child and the building was left to me by my grandmother, but my father owns the club downstairs.”
I grinned. “You’re your father’s landlord?”
“Weird, right?”
“Couldn’t you have an elevator put in regardless of what your father says?”
His eyebrows went up a little in surprise. “You really did not like those stairs, did you?”
“I just mean, it’s your building. Can’t you do what you want?”
He bit his lip, watching me. “If I do that the club would have to be closed for God knows how long, which would mean my dad would lose a ton of money. So I weigh the fact that I find it inconvenient against his financial needs, and it doesn’t seem like such a big deal that I have to walk up a few stairs.”
I liked his outlook. Perhaps he wasn’t superficial after all. “It felt more like forty thousand stairs. But it’s sweet you put him before yourself.”
“Trust me, when I’m carrying my groceries up here, I rethink myself every time.” He watched me, a smile playing around his lips. “What about you? Do you live alone?”
“Yes. Grace and I lived together a few years after our parents died, but a year ago we got our own places. I’m twenty-four and Grace is a year older. It seemed like the best idea if we’re ever going to forge grown up romantic relationships with people.”
He smiled. “You’re funny. You either share nothing or you share a lot.”
My cheeks warmed. “Sorry.”
“No, I didn’t mean it as a criticism. It was an observation.” He shrugged. “For the record, I like it when you share a lot.”
“Okay.”
“What do you do for a living?” he asked.
“I’m a graphic artist. I freelance mostly, but I make good money.”
“I draw, too.” He laughed. “I have a drafting table in my bedroom.”
At the mention of his bedroom, my pulse sped up. “You didn’t bring me up here to see your etchings, did you?”
“I’ll show you whatever you want to see,” he said.
I licked my lips nervously. “Do you make a living with your art?”
“Nah. I do it for fun. I’ve sold a few pieces, but I don’t have to work. My family has money.”
“Oh. I pretty much have to work if I want to eat.”
He drew his brows together in a frown. “It makes me feel weird. I mean that my family is so wealthy. Sometimes I feel like a slacker.”
“Do you do anything useful with your money?”
He laughed gruffly. “I don’t know about useful, but I want to buy this business I’ve had my eye on for years.”
“What sort of business?”
“From the way you were drooling over my bookshelves, you’re probably the only
person who would appreciate this.” He unfolded his legs and kicked my foot playfully. “It’s a bookstore called Read Till You Drop.”
I blinked rapidly, at a loss for words. “I love that place.”
“You know it?” he asked. “It’s for sale and I want to buy it, but my dad thinks I’m nuts.”
“I live at that store.” My mouth hung open in disbelief. “Buy it, please. I know the guy who runs it and he is struggling big time.”
“I’ve seen his numbers, and yeah, he’s not thriving.” A melancholy expression crossed his face as he continued. “I’ve been going there for years and years, and I love books so much. But like I said, my dad really disagrees.”
“I agree. Do it,” I said forcefully. “You could do so much with it because you have money. He never advertises, and the place had no management to speak of.”
His eyes were bright as he met my gaze. His pale cheeks were flushed, and he looked excited. “You see the potential too. To me it’s a little gem that just needs some attention.”
“I will help you, if you want help.” I couldn’t keep my gaze off his pretty, excited mouth. I couldn’t believe I’d run into someone incredibly sexy who had a book fetish like me. I wanted to pounce on him right here on the couch.
“This is the first time tonight you’ve been so animated,” he said breathlessly. “It’s quite a turn on.”
My stomach warmed, and the wine I was sipping helped me feel a little reckless. I captured his ankle, slipping my hand up under the hem of his jeans, feeling the soft prickle of hairs on his skin against the palm of my hand.
“I never meet anyone who’s into books like I am,” I said, touching his leg.
“Me either.” I heard his surprised intake of air, and he closed his eyes as I stroked his skin.
“Just the feel of them under my fingers, the yearning to hold them and lose myself in them,” I whispered.
“Are we still talking about books?”
“I’m kind of hoping we can stop talking period.” I swallowed my nerves, and pulled my hand out of his pant leg.
He got gracefully to his feet and held out his hand. “Do you want to go into my bedroom? You don’t have to.”
Oh, I wanted to. My crotch, undeniably uncomfortable at this point, got harder and harder to ignore.
What the hell. I might be a little drunk, but I really liked him and I wanted him so bad it hurt. For some reason he wanted me too, and for once in my life I decided to take a risk.