“I think you have it bad for him,” she said.
“No. He’s just hot, that’s all.”
She actually tsked at me. “Right. That is not a ‘he’s hot’ goofy grin. That’s an ‘I’m totally smitten’ grin. Totally different.”
I frowned. “Is it really obvious?”
She snorted. I had my answer.
“I take it you still have no way of getting a hold of Brooklyn?”
“No.”
“You didn’t get her home number?”
Ugh. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask, although if Brooklyn wanted to talk, she knew how to get a hold of me. “No. But I’ll ask Rob for it tomorrow. We’re watching another movie.”
“What this time? Texas Chainsaw Massacre?
I gave her a look, just as my phone sounded again. I picked it up to see the one-word text that almost made me scream: redrum - which was from that stupid movie. Backwards, it spells murder. I showed it to Kaylee who rolled her eyes. “Jerk.”
I had to agree. Just for that, I texted, you bring snacks. And they better be good!
Deal. Sleep tight, M.
Sleep tight. Right.
Cupcakes Aren't The Only Delicious Things
I actually didn’t sleep too badly and I have the combination of Kaylee’s company and utter exhaustion to thank for that. After we spent what Kaylee had called an obscene amount of money on books and toys for the Santa Hop, we watched a bunch of videos and then I convinced her to sleep in Brooklyn’s bed. She hesitated, but I pretty much threw my dignity in the trash and begged her to stay.
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get someone to stay with me every night, but this one—the night after watching The Shining—I had been feeling particularly haunted and in need of company.
The nice thing was that it felt kind of like a slumber party. With Brooklyn, we’d fallen into a routine of doing our own thing in the evenings and then just going to sleep, but having Kaylee there was new and we hadn’t really hung out just the two of us before, so we stayed up late into the night, talking across the dark room about stuff. Nothing, everything. She told me the whole sordid story about how she and Declan had gotten together, since I’d only known the basic details. He was a total prince (well, a duke, actually), just as I’d suspected and I really did wish she could have avoided that whole Phillip thing, but I guess she learned her lesson in the end. And had her duke to show for it.
So we bonded, which was really nice. And like I said, I actually slept.
But then came Saturday and as I sat in the lounge waiting for him, I got more and more anxious for my date with Rob. Maybe I shouldn’t have thought of it as a date, but what else was I supposed to call an appointment where I would be alone with a boy...er...man and we would watch a movie and eat snacks? Exactly. It was totally a date. Which is why my nerves were rattling around like coins in a donation can.
At least he didn’t make me wait; Rob showed up at four minutes to two with a bakery box in one hand and a cardboard tray with hot beverages that smelled deliciously chocolaty in the other. He slid both onto one of the tables. “Hi,” he said with a smile as I got up from the sofa to investigate. “Whoa, wait. Who are you?”
“Huh?” I said, looking at him stupidly.
He made a point of looking around the room. “I was supposed to meet this cute black-haired girl here, but you’re a hot redhead,” he said, giving me a very thorough once-over while I blushed furiously.
“Never mind; I think I like you just as well,” he gave me a sexy wink and leaned toward me to whisper. “Maybe a little better.”
I fought the urge to fan myself as my entire body heated from the inside out.
“Thanks,” I said. I broke my gaze away from him and looked down at the drinks, clearing my throat before asking, “What are these?”
“I had to go into town to get some shingles anyway; did you see that crazy storm last night?”
“Just from inside,” I said. “But we could hear the freezing rain and wind howling all night.”
He nodded. “There are a lot of tree branches down and a bunch of shingles blew off the roof here. I’ll need to check all the buildings for damage. Guess what I’ll be doing Monday once the rest of the maintenance crew returns?”
I took a wild guess. “Shingles?”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Congratulations! You got it on the first try!” he said with a smile, though he didn’t look happy about the task. “Of course, I’ll have to Google how to do it properly. Anyway, seeing as I was in town, I thought you’d appreciate a real coffee house drink. Though then I realized I had no idea which you’d prefer, so I got a hot chocolate and a cappuccino. I hope at least one is okay.”
“You’re my hero. Either is awesome,” I said, touched that he’d bring both. “Which do you want?”
He shrugged and looked ambivalent so I grabbed the one closest to me, which turned out to be the hot chocolate. “And what’s in there?” I nodded toward the box.
He gestured toward it with his hand. “Have a look. I was told I was on deck to bring the snacks. I hope they live up to your surely exacting standards.”
I gave him a doubtful look and opened the box, revealing two beautifully frosted and decadent-looking cupcakes. One was chocolate with white frosting and the other was white cake with pink frosting and sprinkles. “You’re forgiven,” I said without looking at him. “Which one is mine?”
“Both,” he said. “That was a scary movie and I should have asked you if you were into that kind of thing. I feel bad if it really did keep you up. You looked...well, anyway, I felt bad. So both are for you.”
I looked up at him and he seemed sincere, not even the hint of a smirk on his mouth. “I slept okay,” I confessed. But more importantly, “I can’t eat two cupcakes. You have to eat one.”
It seemed he had a confession of his own. “I may have had two on the way here from town,” he said, his signature smirk returning. “But if you insist...”
“I do. But I’ll take the chocolate one; that movie was really scary.”
“Deal.”
We each took our respective drinks and cupcakes and sat on the same couch we’d shared the day before.
I took a sip of my hot chocolate, more out of nervousness than anything else.
“So,” he said.
I licked my lips; the hot chocolate was delicious and so rich. “Yeah?”
“You’re seriously going to make me watch some girly movie?”
I snorted. “Not just some girly movie,” I said. “The most girly movie ever.” I put down my cup and went to the cabinet to get out the movie in question. I stopped as my finger landed on the Kiera Knightly version when I noticed the thicker case next to it: the BBC miniseries. The one with Colin Firth. I pretended I was still trying to find the film as I considered my options. It was probably best (and most preferable to him) to watch the more recent one that ran only a couple of hours, but my reasons for grabbing the double DVD set were twofold: first, although it was something like six hours long, it meant we would have to hang out for six hours. Maybe in that time he’d get sleepy. And maybe most importantly: a wet Colin Firth. Sigh. What is it about guys who are wet?
No time to ponder that mystery of the universe, I turned back toward him. “Found it. I know you’ll love it. It’s the best, most romantic story of all time. As romantic as The Shining is terrifying.”
He gave me a smile that looked more like a sneer. “Great.”
“Oh please,” I said with a dramatic eye-roll. “I bet you’re a real romantic. I bet you’ll secretly love it and you’ll go home later and buy it on Amazon.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“We’ll see.” I said, undeterred. Besides, that he’d brought me choice of both beverages and cupcakes said he was very thoughtful. And thoughtfulness is a big part of being romantic, though I wasn’t about to get into that with him. Best just to start the movie and get on with it—six hours was going to take us
into the evening as it was. Maybe we’d have to order a pizza or something.
I decided then not to tell him how long it was, instead turning back to the player and sliding the disc in, pushing my guilt away, figuring the ends justified my less-than-honest means. And anyway, this version was definitely superior. And: Colin Firth.
I returned to the sofa and sat down, picking up my cupcake and giving it a good sniff. “Is this coconut icing?” I asked.
“Yeah, if you don’t like it, you can have this one,” he said. He’d just started pulling the paper away, but hadn’t bit into it yet.
“Coconut is good, although...” I eyed the treat in his hand.
He gave me a suspicious look. “What?”
Before I even could think about what I was doing, I swiped a finger through the icing on his cupcake.
“Hey!” he exclaimed as I put the finger into my mouth, keeping my defiant gaze on his.
And then, he cocked a mischievous eyebrow, reached out and did the same to me, swiping his finger over my cupcake and coming away with a big glob of icing.
“Ha!” he said triumphantly, holding his finger up like a trophy.
Before he could realize what I was doing, let alone stop it from happening, I leaned forward, closed my lips over his finger and swirled my tongue around it, licking away the deliciously creamy icing. I felt my face heat, but I didn’t waver my gaze from his as I dragged every molecule of icing off his finger with my tongue.
His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, making it quickly obvious I’d affected him more than I’d intended—not that my action had been premeditated—as his eyes drifted down to my mouth. I pulled back, allowing my lips to slide off his finger in what was a blatantly sensual action; and yes, this one was done on purpose.
He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple moving up and down in his neck. “Emmie,” he said softly.
“Delicious,” I said, licking my lips deliberately, because there was no point backing off now.
Then, as I willed my hands not to shake, I casually returned my attention to the cupcake in my hand, giving him a breather and a moment to process what had just happened. I faced the TV, pretending to watch the opening of the movie as I peeled back the paper, while every bit of my attention was focused on watching him in my peripheral vision.
I took two bites and realized my stomach was doing a slow roll thanks to a sudden bout of nerves, so I put the rest of the cupcake down on the coffee table. I took a quick sip of the hot chocolate and put that down, too. Then I sat back, my gaze still aimed at the TV, though I could see he was quietly eating his cupcake.
I couldn’t help it: I glanced over at him as he popped the last bite into his mouth. A small trace of the icing was on his upper lip. He looked at me, all humor gone from his face and I would have paid a million dollars to know what he was thinking just then.
“Good?” I asked, though even I wasn’t sure what I was referring to.
Still, he nodded. “Very good,” he said, the bit of icing taunting me as I waited for him to notice and lick it off.
He didn’t.
“What?” he said.
Before I could let myself chicken out, I leaned in again and licked the icing off his lip. He grunted and moved away, causing a jolt of fear through my body. But as I leaned back, the look in his eyes was one of shock, not disgust.
“You had a little icing,” I explained, pointing at my own lip. “I couldn’t let it go to waste.” I gave him a coy smile that was completely at odds with the blender of emotions whirling around inside me.
He nodded, but his face was unreadable, which was just about killing me.
What is it they say, in for a penny, in for a pound? What the hell.
I leaned in again and licked at his bottom lip and then said, “Delicious,” against his mouth. My heart was pounding like crazy at my bold move; kissing Dave had always been fun and nice, something we’d sort of fumbled into together, but with Rob, an older more experienced guy, my nerves were going nuts. Was I doing it right? Was I sexy enough? Did he even like me that way?
Half an agonizing second later, I got my reward when he groaned and moved his lips. Not away, either. My heart lurched in my chest as my eyes fluttered closed and I kissed him back, bringing my palm to his warm neck, twining my fingertips in the hair at his nape. God, he smelled good and tasted even better, thanks to the cupcakes.
“Em...” he said against me just as it was getting really good, causing alarm bells to go off in my brain, though I willfully ignored them and opened my mouth, licking his full bottom lip again.
It didn’t work, although he groaned again before saying, “Emmie...we should...” And then the worst happened: he ended the kiss, moving back, holding me away from him by my shoulders. Like I was going to go back for more. Which, I guess I might have.
“Huh?” I said, my brain fuzzy and thick.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said in his deep voice, but he was looking at my mouth like he was thinking the opposite.
“What?” I croaked and then cleared my throat, not sure what else to say, too hormone drunk to think of anything.
He looked up at my eyes. “We can’t...I mean...I can’t get involved with you.”
“Why?” I said, my heart dropping into my gut and feeling like it was being eroded by my stomach acid.
“I work here and I’m older and I should know better and...” he sighed. “It’s just not a good idea for us to have a relationship.”
But he’d kissed me back. For a half a minute he’d kissed me back—he’d been totally into it, of that I would have bet all my parents’ money. I guess it’s possible that he’d just gotten caught up or something, but I didn’t have time to think about that now; right now, I had to do damage control.
“Relationship?” I said, trying to sound surprised at even the mention, hoping he wouldn’t notice my voice being slightly higher than normal. “Who said anything about a relationship? I just thought we could have a little fun, that’s all.”
“Oh, well,” he looked down at his hands. “That’s probably still not a good idea. I mean, I like you and everything, and that was nice just now. Really nice...”
“But...” I said. “I hear a but...”
“It’s complicated,” he said.
“Because Brooklyn’s my roommate?” I asked.
“That’s part of it. Also, my job here; I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. I don’t want to get involved and then have to take off. Especially with my dad being sick and everything,” he added. “That really complicates things.”
“I thought you said you didn’t think it was critical,” I said, tears pooling in my eyes despite my best efforts to keep them at bay. It was so humiliating. I’d thought I had him, but now he was just making up excuses.
“Emmie, I...” he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in a way I’d wished I had a part in. “I just can’t. Please don’t be upset—it has nothing to do with you personally. If anything, it’s harder saying no because I do like you.”
I looked up at him.
He nodded. “Really. I wish there was some way we could give it a try. I mean, I am partial to redheads and all.”
“I’ll bet. Seychelles had something to do with that, I’m sure.”
He shook his head. “Nope. It’s more of a recent thing. And anyway, she’s not really my type.”
Right. As if Chelly wasn’t every guy’s type. I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a doubtful look.
He did the scout’s honor thing, holding up one hand and placing the other over his heart. “I joked around with her that day at the hospital, but it was mostly to get Brooklyn all riled up. I swear to you, it has only been since I walked in this room today, that I have been totally partial to redheads. Actually maybe just one redhead.”
This guy was making me literally breathless. I feared my heart would never be the same.
“Don’t say that,” I said, my voice breathy.
He shook his head as if r
ealizing his mistake. “Sorry. God that was stupid, wasn’t it?” he glanced at the TV. “I blame your romance movie.”
Stupid isn’t the word I would have used. “It’s barely started and you haven’t even watched any of it.”
He shrugged. “Either way. I shouldn’t have said that. But we can’t get involved, Emmie. I’m really sorry. Really, really sorry.” His eyes drifted down to my mouth again.
“Are you trying to make it better?”
His eyes snapped back up to mine. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.”
I rolled my eyes.
He grinned at me.
We stared at each other for a really long time.
Then, in the best and most confusing gesture ever, he shrugged again and said, “I really can’t get involved with you and this doesn’t change that, but what do you say: one for the road?”
And then before I could even fathom what he was talking about, let alone form an answer, he kissed me.
Like, really kissed me.
Gentlemen, Place Your Bets
We didn’t get through the full six hours of Pride and Prejudice. But I was okay with it. Really okay; and it’s not like we were watching it anyway.
We made out for a while until Rob’s phone went off and he had to go thanks to a security issue. Again.
I guess it was for the best because I’d started feeling like making out wasn’t quite enough and I was pretty sure he was feeling the same, despite his assurances that we couldn’t take it further. His glazed-over eyes and reddened complexion told me he’d been affected by the kiss, too, even though the thought of not kissing him again felt like some sort of crime against kissing.
And he really was a good kisser. Pulling away from him had been the single hardest thing I’d ever done. Actually, he was the one to pull away, so I guess it wasn’t something I did, but accepting that the kiss was over was brutal. Especially as he then proceeded to tell me precisely why we couldn’t have a repeat of it. Though I’ll admit that during the lecture, I may have zoned out watching his swollen and delicious lips move as he spoke.
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