“We can go somewhere else,” I offer in a rush, before she has a chance to turn me down.
“O…okay,” she whispers.
“Lead the way.” When she steps up beside me, I reach out and entwine my fingers with hers. Tingles run up my arm where our skin connects, and I can’t help but smile when I glance over at her, because she’s smiling as well.
She felt it too.
Summer
His touch burns, and reminds me this is actually happening. It’s not a dream. I really did just leave the club to find him waiting for me. This is the sort of crazy stuff that happens to other girls. Not me.
I can’t help my lips pulling up at the corners as a ball of excitement explodes in my belly, bringing my entire body to life.
When we get out onto the street, I wave down a cab. Usually, I would walk if I was alone to save the money, but I don’t get the impression from his designer clothes that he’d be up for walking in this heat.
When a cab pulls to a stop in front of us and Harrison reaches out to open the door for me, I almost melt in a puddle on the sidewalk. He really is an English gentleman.
I’m hesitant to give the driver the directions to my usual diner, but I don’t know of anywhere else where the food might be up to the standard he’ll expect.
His eyes burn into me once he’s strapped in, and I start to question my decision. I may have spent most of my shift thinking about him and wishing he would come back, but I should have politely turned him down and headed home.
I chance a glance and find him looking back at me with concern. I drop my eyes and, after focusing on his full lips for a second too long, I continue down and take in his fancy blazer, crisp white shirt, and tailored trousers. Then, I look at myself. I’m a sweaty mess, my make up is probably running down my face, and I’m wearing a second hand dress that smells like energy drink.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning my way and reaching for my hand, which is trembling in my lap.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure this is a good idea.” My voice comes out quieter than I was expecting, and he has to lean in to hear me. The smell of his cologne makes my mouth water and starts a slow, torturous pulsating between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together in the hope of stopping it, but it’s useless.
“It’s just breakfast,” he says, as he drops his heated eyes to my lap. How can he tell?
“Just breakfast,” I repeat like an idiot. When his eyes come back to mine they’re darker than they were a few minutes ago, with flecks of gold I hadn’t noticed before catching in the sun. He continues staring, and my pulse begins to pick up pace under his scrutiny.
“Here’s fine,” I call out to the driver when I spot the diner on the corner.
I grab my bag to find some cash, but Harrison beats me to it. I place my hand on his forearm to stop him, and tingles shoot up my fingers and spread throughout my body. I quickly pull it away as if I’ve been burned.
I blow out a slow breath as the driver takes his cash before stepping out. The morning sun hits me and only increases my already soaring temperature.
Seconds later, I feel him step up to me on the sidewalk. “That one?” he asks, nodding his head towards the diner.
“Yep.”
He doesn’t reach for my hand right away, and it feels unnatural. I hardly know him, yet not having that physical connection already feels wrong, but it’s only a few seconds before I feel his warm skin against mine and I breathe out a sigh of contentment.
He opens the door for me before pulling out my seat. I swoon hard. Is he this much of a gentleman between the sheets? He holds himself with such poise and grace that I can only imagine he has some smooth moves. Plus, he’s obviously had a few more years’ experience than I have. I shake my head, trying to shake the thoughts away.
“Good mornin’, Summer,” Clive sings happily when he sees me, but his eyes soon widen when he sees I’m with a man. This is most definitely a first for me. “Good mornin’,” he says again, but directs it to Harrison before turning back to me and winking. I roll my eyes at his obvious delight. “What can I get for you both?”
Once we’ve ordered and handed the menus back to Clive, I sit and watch as Harrison looks around the small interior of the diner.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “We should have just stayed in the hotel.” He looks totally out of place here, and I feel like an idiot for thinking this was a good idea. We’re so far apart in terms of wealth and class it’s not even funny.
“Stop it,” he snaps, making me sit back in shock. “This place is perfect. It’s cute…like you.” I look down at my lap as my cheeks flush pink. I feel like I’m constantly blushing when I’m around him. I’m like a child again, and it only emphasises the age difference between us. “I only suggested the hotel because it’s where we were. I wanted to have breakfast with you; where we have it doesn’t matter. A bench on the street would have been fine. Now stop apologising.”
“Okay.”
Silence falls between us, but it’s not awkward. I can feel his eyes on me as I stare down at the fake flower in the middle of the table, suddenly nervous to look up. I’ve no idea what I’m doing here. Taking some rich stranger out for breakfast isn’t the kind of thing I do—although, I’m not entirely sure what it is I do. Work and draw, I guess. I lose myself in thoughts of what I’m trying to achieve here in Las Vegas. I have to keep telling myself that I’m doing the right thing, even if it feels like the total opposite sometimes.
“Summer?”
My eyes dart up to him. “Sorry,” I whisper when I see his little smirk.
“It’s fine. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I say, then instantly regret it. He could be about to ask me anything.
“What are you doing here?”
“Getting breakfast.”
He raises an eyebrow at my attempt to steer the conversation away from where he wants it to go. “That’s not what I mean.” His eyes are too intense. I feel like he can see everything I’m trying to hide, all my insecurities and fears.
“What everyone else is doing here: trying to make money.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asks.
“No. I’m from New York. I’ve only been here a few months.”
“You’re a Manhattan girl?” I nod. “Why here? Surely you could have made money in New York?”
“Yes, but I needed a change and an opportunity presented itself, so I went for it.”
“Fair enough,” he says with a nod as Clive appears with our food.
“So what about you? What brings you to Vegas?”
“Same as everyone else; making money,” he says with a sparkle in his eye and a smile that melts me. I watch as he lifts his fork to his mouth and I’m transfixed as his lips wrap around it. His eyelids lower as he savours the flavour. “Oh, that’s good,” he mumbles. My mind runs away with me, and suddenly images of those lips being put to better use are the only things I can see.
I shake my head slightly as I try to recall what he just said.
“Right?” I may have brought him here because I wasn’t comfortable staying in the hotel, but the food is incredible.
“So what is it you do to make money?” I ask once our plates have been cleared away and our coffee mugs filled.
“I’m an antique dealer,” he says after a sip.
“Really?” I ask, fascinated. I’m embarrassed by my over the top reaction when an amused smirk appears on his lips.
“Most people just groan when I say that; you don’t have to be polite and pretend to be interested.”
“No, really, I love old stuff. Art, mainly.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I want to go to art school, but I need money, hence…” I say, gesturing to our surroundings.
“You any good?”
“People tell me I am.”
“I’d love to see your stuff,” he says. His voice deepens and his eyes darken as they drop to my lips.
I have
to clear my throat before I can respond. Thoughts of allowing him into my bedroom, where I have some paintings and sketches, leads to images I don’t need in my head right now. “I haven’t got much here; most of it’s at my parents’ place. So what kind of stuff do you buy and sell?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.
“Everything. I have experts in most areas, but personally I love timepieces, jewellery…and art.”
I look down at the little bit of watch I can see and nod.
“It’s a vintage Rolex,” he says, stretching his arm out for me to see.
“It’s stunning.”
He goes on to tell me it’s a 1920’s rose gold vintage Rolex Oyster. He explains about the mechanisms and every little detail. I soak everything up, fascinated as I learn things I’ve never even thought about before.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I tend to get a little carried away.”
“No, don’t; it’s so interesting.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I confirm because he’s looking at me like I can’t possibly be interested in what he’s saying.
He talks to me some more about his business, but it’s not long before I’m fighting my exhaustion and trying hold in my yawns.
“I should get you home,” he says when he notices I’m starting to fall asleep on him.
“Thank you.”
He pays the bill and ushers me out with his hand resting on the small of my back. His contact wakes my exhausted body up as the tingles I’m starting to expect when he touches me shoot off in all directions.
“I’m not far from here. I can walk if you want to get a cab,” I offer after we’ve been stood a little awkwardly on the sidewalk for a few seconds.
“No, I’m taking you home. Lead the way.”
It’s only a few steps before I feel his hand slip into mine again.
By the time I walk us up to the duplex I share with Ireland, I’m sweating, and the early morning sun begins to burn my pale skin.
“This is me,” I say, coming to a stop.
“It’s cute.” I smile at him. I’m not sure if by ‘cute’ he means small or what. It’s clear from just looking at him that he has money—and plenty of it. “Thank you for this morning; I really enjoyed it.”
“Me too,” I say with a smile as I turn to look at him. I’m stood on the front step so it gives me a little more height. Even still I’m only in line with his chin.
He opens his mouth to say more, and my eyes lock onto his lips. I wonder if they’re as soft as they look.
“Summer?” he says with a laugh, and my eyes fly up to his.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
The smile he gives me has those previously mentioned tingles heading south very fast.
He must notice the change in me, because he steps a little closer and lifts his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch burns and my body aches for more.
“I just asked if you were working tonight.”
“Oh, uh…yeah.” I wrack my brain for the hours I’m working, but I’m too lost. The way he’s looking at me encourages feelings I shouldn’t be this excited about.
“Breakfast in the morning, then?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Summer, there you are. I’ve been getting worried,” a panicked Ireland says as she opens the front door behind me. “Where have you…oh.” She stops suddenly when she see’s I’m not alone. “You coming in for coffee?” she asks Harrison, oozing the confidence I wish I had to ask the same question, or to reach up and kiss him.
He looks down at me before answering. When I nod, he smiles and accepts her invitation.
“Something wrong with your cell that you couldn’t let me know?” Ireland snaps when we walk inside. She sounds just like my mother.
I pull my purse from my shoulder and dig around until I find my cell. “It’s dead,” I announce after pressing a couple of buttons.
“Wow, that could be classed as an antique,” Harrison laughs when he sees my brick of a cell phone. He must be able to read the look of horror on my face because he immediately apologises.
“It’s fine, don’t worry. It does what I need it to,” I say with a shrug before throwing it back into my purse.
“Does it?” I hear Ireland shout from the kitchen.
She surprises me by heading towards to her room as soon as she’s made the coffees. I thought she’d hang around to find out more about Harrison.
“Ireland, can I borrow your sewing kit before you go to bed please?” I ask.
“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, before reappearing a few seconds later with her sewing box.
“Thank you,” I call out to her as she walks off again.
When I look back to Harrison on the other side of the couch, he’s looking at me with a question in his eye. “I need to fix one of my dresses,” I whisper, once again feeling embarrassed by the many differences between us.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods and sips his coffee. I can’t imagine he’s too impressed by that, either, as it’s just cheap instant, but he doesn’t complain.
When I start yawning again, he stands up to leave. Disappointment that our time has come to an end floods me as I follow him to the front door.
“Thank you for this morning, Summer.”
“I should be thanking you; you paid for everything.”
“It was worth it to spend time with you.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek as he stares deep into my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone to lean in and kiss me as much as I do right now.
He continues to stare down at me, but doesn’t move. I’m not sure if that’s because he doesn’t want to kiss me or he’s trying to be the gentleman that he his. The darkness of his eyes and the rapid movement of his chest sure points to the latter of those two.
My heart races when he does begin to lean towards me, but at the last minute, he turns and places a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Sweet dreams, Manhattan. I’ll see you later.” With that, he turns and walks away. He hasn’t called a cab or anything, so I’ve no idea where he’s going, but I’m too lost to the feeling of his lips against my skin to think much more of it.
Heading back into the house, I stop when I see Ireland stood at the end of the hall.
“What?”
“Oh nothing, Summer. Nothing at all,” she says with a laugh as she follows me back to the living room.
“Spit it out,” I demand when she silently follows me and takes a seat on one of the bar stools.
“Tell me how the shy girl who barely talks to our customers ends up with a breakfast date with a sexy as fuck British man.”
“I don’t know. He asked, and I said yes.”
“Good for you. It’s about time you started enjoying yourself.”
Ireland leaves me to fix the hole in my dress. I hate that my work wardrobe consists of other’s hand me downs, but I haven’t got the money to spend on the kind of dresses Max expects us to wear.
Feeling a little defeated, I head to bed for a few hours’ sleep before I start all over again.
“SUMMER!” I hear shouted. “You’ve got a delivery.”
Wondering what the hell it could be, I pull on a pair of shorts and follow Ireland’s voice.
When I get to the kitchen, I spot a box on the counter. “What is it?” I ask.
“How should I know? It’s got your name on it.”
Ireland places a coffee in front of me as I sit on the stool, staring at my parcel.
Summer is handwritten across the front.
My first thought is that it’s from my parents, but I haven’t spoken more than a few words to them since I announced I was moving here, and it’s neither of their writing.
I unwrap the paper before pulling the lid of the box off. There’s a card with my name written in the same fancy handwriting. I pick it up and turn it over.
Summer,
I did some research and disc
overed that yours is in fact an antique, so I took the liberty of buying you a replacement.
Yours,
Harrison x
“What the—”
“What is it?” Ireland asks, coming over to stand beside me, reading the card when I hand it over. “Is that…”
She doesn’t need to finish her question, because I pull a brand new iPhone from inside the box.
“Shit. You’ve found yourself a keeper there, cuz.”
I stare at the box in my hands in total disbelief. I don’t know whether I’m grateful or angry that he’s done this for me.
“You sure you didn’t blow him?” Ireland asks with a laugh as she walks off.
My anger takes hold as her words settle in my brain. How dare he? I don’t need his help or his money. I’m fine as I am.
Frustrated, I open the box and power up the phone.
It’s only a few seconds before a message pops up.
Harrison Abbot: Call me.
My hand shakes as anger continues to flow through me. I don’t need some wealthy British man to swoop in and rescue me. Damn it, I don’t need rescuing full stop.
Turning the phone off again, I put it back in the box. It frustrates the hell out of me when I can’t put the lid on fast enough. I curse whoever designed the damn slow close box before throwing the entire thing into my purse. The second I see him, he’s having it back.
I feel like a hot mess by the time I get to work. Harrison and the damn iPhone were only the start of what’s turning out to be a pretty awful day. We ran out of hot water halfway through my shower, so I had to wash the shampoo out and then condition my hair with ice cold water. I cut myself while shaving my legs with my crappy dollar store razors, and then to top it all off, my dress was still damp.
My walk in the scorching sun didn’t relax me like I’d hoped. The only thing it achieved was drying my dress.
The bar is packed already. Lucy spots me and I see relief flood her features. I come to a stop between her and Kitty, and immediately get to work.
His Manhattan: A British Billionaire Romance (The Cocktail Girls) Page 3