The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving

by Jessica Clare

  “Anyone else here?”

  She shook her head.

  Oh great. “Listen, I’ll just stay until the hail lets up, and then I’ll head back to the ranch. I won’t be here for long.”

  She didn’t speak.

  Damn it, couldn’t she say something? She was probably terrified of him at the moment, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to relax her. He was here in this big, empty house with her and the lights were off. It was the perfect scenario for a guy to take advantage of a girl, and he was sure the idea went through her head, too. Rome groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to think of how to extract himself. Maybe the hail would be the better option.

  But he didn’t leave. Instead, he watched as Elise lit a few other candles on the table, and then sat down next to it.

  He considered heading back out into the storm. Just bolting before she could accuse him of anything. He wasn’t going to touch her, but he didn’t know what she’d say to dear old brother, and he was already on edge around Grant. Grant was just waiting for him to fuck up so he could fire him.

  “You sure you’re okay with me being here?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t look at him, and that made Rome feel worse. Just then, it began to hail harder, and he groaned. He was stuck. Fuck.

  Well, if nothing else, it’d be a good time to clear the air with Elise Markham and get it out in the open that he didn’t mean her any harm. “Could you please say something?”

  Rome watched those big eyes raise, shining in the candlelight, and he watched her tug on her long, silky hair again. She seemed to be pulling it over one cheek. Then she straightened. “Sorry.” The word was whisper soft.

  That was progress, at least.

  He moved and sat across from her on one of the couches, leaning in to the candlelight so she could see his face. “I’m not entirely sure what I did to you to make you so scared of me, but I just want you to know that you’re safe with me.”

  She stilled.

  Ah fuck, he’d scared her now, hadn’t he. Maybe just saying she was safe made her think of bad things, and now he’d gone and fucked up. He sighed and scrubbed his face again.

  “I’m not scared,” she whispered, her voice so low he could barely hear it.

  Rome looked up, surprised. That was the longest sentence she’d ever said to him. “Then what’s with the silent treatment?”

  She twisted her hands in her long hair again, pulling it over one shoulder and stroking it in a way that almost seemed agitated. After a moment, she blurted, “I’m . . . shy.”

  That . . . hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear. Of course, watching her anxiously stroke her hair over her shoulder, over and over again, her gaze cast on the ground, made him wonder how he’d missed it.

  Elise Markham wasn’t an ice princess who hated his guts. She wasn’t scared of him because he looked dangerous.

  She was really shy.

  A stab of pity rose in his chest. “How do you do, Shy. I’m Rome.” And he stuck his hand out for her to shake.

  It was a silly gesture, of course. They’d met several times already. But it kind of felt good to start fresh.

  She looked up at him, startled, and then gazed at his hand. A small smile curved her mouth and she delicately put her hand in his. She pulled away again a moment later, but the connection had been made.

  “At any rate, I promise not to bite,” Rome teased. He was so relieved to find out that Elise was just shy that it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Grant’s wrath wouldn’t fall on him tonight. Thank fucking god.

  Elise gave a small giggle and he was fascinated. The candlelight filled her face with shadows, but her smile was pretty and soft. She was a gorgeous girl, really. Why on earth was someone like her so shy?

  He took off his jacket, since it was warm in the house. “So what do we need to do to get you past this shyness so you’ll actually speak to me?”

  She blinked at him a few times, and her hands pulled on her hair again. Her mouth worked, as if she were trying to spit out words, but nothing came for a long moment. Then, she finally admitted, “I . . . just need to get comfortable. That’s all.”

  “And you’re not comfortable around me because you don’t know me?”

  She paused for a moment, then nodded.

  “But Elise, I’m hurt. You’ve seen me shirtless.” His tone was teasing, almost flirty. “I’d ask to see the photos of the shoot, but we don’t seem to have power at the moment.”

  A flicker of emotion crossed her face, and she seemed to hug herself a little closer. “The photos aren’t any good.” Her voice seemed a little braver, stronger.

  “Oh. Huh.” He wondered why, but she didn’t seem like she was volunteering the information. “That’s a shame. If you ever need me to get shirtless again, though, you just let me know.”

  Her eyes widened and she went silent again. As he watched her face, her throat worked, and he wondered if she was blushing.

  For some reason, he found that charming. Hell, he was fascinated by her shyness. It didn’t seem like an act, and she was far too pretty for it to rule her life. Did she go around with downcast eyes all the time? How did she even date?

  Did she date? He suddenly found himself curious about that. She had a sweet body, all soft curves, and that long hair was making him nuts. Her face was lovely, too, but if she hid it and stared at the ground, no one would ever see it.

  He wondered if Elise got by in life by blending into the wallpaper.

  She jerked to her feet, surprising him. “Um.” She hesitated, and clasped her hands, then unclasped them, all anxious motion. “You want a beer?”

  “A beer would be great.”

  She nodded and disappeared off into the darkness. For a moment, he wondered if she’d come back, but she returned a minute later with two beers and offered him one, then turned and sat back down across from him. A girl who drank beer. He liked that. Rome popped the cap off his and watched as she did the same, then took a swig. She had a long, graceful throat, he noticed.

  He also noticed she’d gone silent again. Her gaze had moved to the beer in her hands, and she stared at it. That wasn’t good.

  Rome tried a different tactic. “I’m not really good with small talk,” he admitted. “I never know what to say.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile, her eyes meeting his again, and he felt like he’d just been somehow rewarded. “Me too.”

  He took another swig of his beer. “I suppose we could talk about the weather, but I guess it’s pretty obvious that it’s shitty.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze flicking down again.

  Damn it, he wanted her to look at him. To see him. Not stare at her beer all night.

  “You want to play a game? I can ask a question, and then you can ask a question. It’ll help break the ice until the power comes on or the storm leaves and I’ll be on my way.”

  She gave him another one of those small smiles. “That’s not really a game.”

  She was right. “All right then, sassy pants, if you don’t answer the question the other person asks, you have to chug the rest of your beer. Sound fair?”

  Her head tilted, that long, glossy hair sliding over her shoulder in a waterfall. “You’re driving.”

  “I’m also gonna answer everything you ask.” He winked at her.

  She ducked her head again. Oh, damn it. He’d made her shy. But after a moment, she straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Okay, then.” He pursed his lips, then took a swig of his beer, thinking. No yes-or-no questions, since that would allow her to be quiet and he wanted her to actually talk to him. “How long are you in Bluebonnet?”

  She shrugged.

  “Oh, come on. That’s not a real answer.” He pointed at her with his beer. “Unless you want to chug that, body gestures are not considered an answer. That’s cheating.”

  “It’s not cheating,” she protested.

 
“It is. I can’t believe we’re on the first question and you’re already cheating.”

  “Fine, then. Here’s a body gesture,” she retorted, and flipped him the bird.

  He threw his head back and laughed, utterly surprised—and delighted—by that spark in her. She watched him, her eyes gleaming with her own amusement, and she lowered her finger. “Now come on,” Rome coaxed. “Gimme a real answer.”

  “I don’t know how long I’m in Bluebonnet,” she murmured. “Until I’m tired of being here, I suppose. I don’t have a firm deadline or a job to get back to.”

  Interesting. He thought being a photographer was her job. Was it not? But he couldn’t ask more questions. Not right now. “All right. Your turn.”

  Elise gave him a startled look, then thought for a moment. “How many tattoos do you have?”

  He was surprised by that question, too, and the way she ducked her face, almost bringing a shoulder up to her cheek as if she could hide it. Strange. “Sixteen, if the sleeves both count as one apiece. I’ve got three on my stomach, the two sleeves, four on my back, one on my neck, one on each hand, and two on each leg.”

  She nodded.

  It was interesting that she’d asked about his tattoos, not about him or why he was in town. He wanted to pursue that a bit more. “Do you like my tattoos?”

  Her eyes widened and she stared at him again, her mouth silently working. She didn’t speak for a long moment, and he wondered if she was going to answer. Then, she dropped her gaze and began to chug her beer, her throat working.

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed again. “You are a trip, Elise. You wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you said no.”

  She didn’t reply, simply finished her beer and primly wiped her mouth with long fingers. He was fascinated by that dainty movement, and the grace in her step when she stood up. “I’ll get another beer.”

  He watched her head off, amused. It had been a while since he’d been that interested in another girl, but Elise Markham was fascinating. She seemed shy and sweet, but she drank beer like a pro and knew when to bite back. And she was interested in his tattoos. That added up to a rather interesting puzzle, and Rome liked puzzles.

  Elise returned a few minutes later and carried two beers again. She handed him one. “For just in case.”

  “Why, Elise,” he teased. “You going to try and find something I won’t answer?”

  She simply gave him a challenging smile and sat back down across from him. For a moment, he wished she’d sat next to him. Maybe that was too much to hope for too fast. At least she was talking to him.

  “My turn,” she said, and popped the top off her new beer. “Where are you from?”

  “That’s a pussy question,” he teased. “And I’m from Houston originally.”

  “Pussy questions are allowed,” she said in that prim, small voice.

  “Fair enough. Where are you from?”

  “Here.” She smiled. “Bluebonnet.”

  “Then why are you staying at a bed-and-breakfast?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought it was my turn?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry if I spoke out of turn.” Sassy little thing. He rather liked Elise Markham when she was peeking her head out of her shell.

  “Where did you go to college?” she asked.

  “No college,” he told her bluntly. “High school dropout.” Might as well get that out of the way, too. “So now it’s my turn. Why are you staying at a bed-and-breakfast if you live in Bluebonnet?”

  “I used to live here,” she corrected in that soft voice. “My family moved to a lake resort up in Tahoe a few years ago. I’m just here visiting my brother.”

  It seemed like they were both a little uncomfortable with the direction of the questions. Time for something lighthearted, then, when it was his turn again.

  She thought for a moment. “Why did you come to Bluebonnet?”

  “Mostly because I hadn’t been here yet. Wanted a small town to relax in.” To hide in. “Kick back, see what it had to offer. And I stayed because I got a job.” He shrugged. “I would have moved on if I didn’t.” When she simply nodded, he smiled at her and took another swig of his beer. “Now me. Let’s see. How old are you?”

  If it wasn’t all dark and shadowy, he could have sworn she was blushing. “Twenty-four. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight. How come a twenty-four-year-old still lives with her parents?”

  She hefted her beer as if she were going to drink it, and then narrowed her eyes at him. “None of your business.”

  “That’s not an answer. No boyfriend or roommates?”

  “Those are new questions.”

  “Well, seeing as how you didn’t answer the last one, I thought I’d try again.”

  She considered her beer, then made a face at him. “I live at home because it’s . . . safe. No one bothers me there. And I haven’t had a good reason to move out.” She seemed a little disgusted with her answer, as if she were disappointed in herself.

  “Fair enough.” He noticed that she didn’t admit to a boyfriend, though.

  “What about you? Family or friends here in Bluebonnet?”

  He noticed she didn’t say “girlfriend.” “Just me. I try to avoid family whenever possible.”

  Her smile peeked out again at that, and he found himself smiling back. “Mine’s not so bad,” she admitted. “Just a bit overbearing.”

  “Mine’s bad,” he said bluntly. He didn’t want to think about them right now. He cast around for something to ask her. “Any tattoos or piercings?”

  “Nope,” she said. “So what do you think of working with Brenna?”

  He eyed her and the charming little smirk she had on her mouth. “You trying to set me up?”

  “That’s a question and it’s not your turn,” she replied lightly.

  He gave her a sour look and then chugged his beer, declining to answer what he really thought of Brenna, since Elise was friends with her. Brenna was a good girl, but she was a nut.

  Elise giggled, and damn, he rather liked hearing that sound. “We going to play like that, huh?”

  “Like what?” she asked, all innocence.

  “All right, my turn, then. How come I can’t see the photos you took?”

  She gave him a frown and began to chug her beer.

  “That bad, eh?” he asked, watching her throat work with something akin to fascination.

  She shook her head and finished drinking, then gave a tiny, ladylike belch and clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

  He laughed.

  “That’s not funny,” she told him, but she was laughing, too.

  “It’s kinda funny. I had no idea you were such a rude chick.”

  “My turn to ask a question,” she said in a lofty voice. “So how come you’re avoiding your family?”

  Rome wagged a finger at her. “Tricky girl.” He raised his fresh beer and downed it in a few gulps. No way was he talking about those fucktards, especially to a girl like Elise. She wouldn’t even begin to understand the Lozada family. He finished his beer and placed the empty bottle on the table.

  “I thought you were going to answer everything,” she said, and he could have sworn that was a teasing note in her voice.

  “I thought you were going to play nice,” he rebutted.

  “I’m nice,” she said, but her face broke into a mischievous grin that delighted him to see. “And I should go get some more beer.”

  She returned a minute later with several more beers, placing half of them in front of him. “This is a bed-and-breakfast,” she declared. “It won’t kill you to stay the night, or you can stop drinking now.”

  “But we’re just getting started,” he teased. “No way I’m stopping now.” Especially not now that he was making a few cracks in that shell of hers. “And I just thought up a terrific question.”

  “Uh oh,” she said, sitting down again. Still across the table from him. Well, Rome—the city—wasn’t built in a
day.

  “It’s a doozy,” he warned her, popping the cap off of another beer. “You ready?”

  She picked up a new beer and popped the cap off. “Hit me with it.”

  “Where did you lose your virginity?”

  She stared at him for so long that he almost thought she’d answer. But then she picked up her beer and began to chug it, and he was a little disappointed.

  When Elise finished her beer, she made a face and considered him for a long moment. “That was a terrible question.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, I figured if we’re going for the jugular, might as well make it a good one.”

  “I’d ask you about your virginity but I suspect you’ll be more than happy to share the details of that experience with me.”

  “I would. You asking?”

  “No.” She thought for a minute, then asked, “How many women have you slept with?”

  “Enough to know what I’m doing.” He grinned to take the light rebuke out of his words, enjoying the fact that she had that weird look on her face that he was pretty sure was a flush. “You want details or something?”

  “I’m trying to think of things you won’t answer.”

  “Oh, I’ll answer that.”

  “Figures.”

  He thought back to prior girlfriends and replied. “Five.”

  “Five?”

  “What, you don’t like that number?”

  “It just seems low.”

  “Well, that’s either flattering or insulting. Why would it seem low?”

  She thought for a moment, and then said, “I decline to answer that,” and drank another beer.

  He laughed. Elise Markham was definitely not boring.

  For the next while, the game became more edgy and intense. It had gone from a friendly “get to know one another” game to a challenge to make the other person drink by not answering. Elise was a smart cookie; she figured out quickly that he’d answer anything personal . . . except for when it came to his family. And he learned rather fast that Elise absolutely refused to answer anything sexual.