by Sarah Skye
Her breath tickles my cheek, but she’s silent for several long moments while we stare each other down. Finally, she mutters, “I didn’t say anything about ignoring me.”
“And I haven’t. I offered to come over last weekend. You said no.”
She stamps her foot, her brows pinched again. “Does that sound anything like me? ‘Yeah, babe, how’s 9 pm sound?’ Please, Calder. You’ve met me. In what universe does that track with who I am?”
My lips curve despite attempts to keep a neutral expression. “Lily on the hayride would’ve said something of the sort, and not just the time to show up. Hayride Lily would’ve told me what color underwear to have on and likely what props to bring, too.”
She yelps and pushes my shoulder. “Oh, stop that! You’re teasing me, and you’re the one who told me to say what I…” She palms her eyes and takes a deep breath. “That’s my point. I thought we were having fun, but since that night things have been different. And don’t pretend like they haven’t.”
Her sad frustration softens me. “No, I’ll not pretend that.”
She lowers her hand and stares up at me again. “Thank you. So, what the hell happened?”
“You named the rules. ‘As long as we like it, we keep going.’ I’ve never been in a fake relationship, but I’ve certainly had that kind of setup before. I know those rules: give her her space and look after yourself.”
That frown deepens. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
My heart thuds a different rhythm as I cock my head. I refuse to label it as hope. “Then what did you mean?”
“Just that, I don’t know. The boundaries I’d set had, ha, kind of been lost to the wind, and I didn’t really want to try and make up new ones. Making rules hadn’t worked so far with you. You just kept coming in and… and… and making me break them.”
“Making you?”
“Inspiring me to, I guess,” she grumbles. We trade a look that melts into a guilty smile on her part and a chuckle on mine. “Shut up, this whole thing has been crazy for me.”
“You think this is the norm in my world?”
She shrugs. “I really don’t know. I guess partly because we don’t know what the hell this is.”
I know it’s a huge mistake to say the next words that fall from my mouth, but I can’t help it. “Exactly my point. I don’t either. That’s not the way I handle relationships. But,” I reach out and caress her cheek, “I cannae stop thinking on ye, lass.”
Letting the accent slip out was the right move. The last of her ire falls away, and Lily steps closer to me, her palms resting on my chest. She breathes a laugh. “Damn, that accent is kryptonite.”
I hold her hips to bring her closer. “That was my strategy.”
She giggles. “Jerk. You play dirty.”
“Professor Lily, you have no idea how dirty I’d be with you,” I murmur before my lips find hers.
Before I let myself get swept away, I pull back and meet her gaze. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention at all. I just… I don’t know what we’re doing here, and I’ll not lie: it unnerves the hell out of me.”
She lays her hand on the back of my head to bring me closer. “This is what we’re doing. One more kiss, then this party. After that, we’ll figure out the next step together. Okay?”
“Your wish is my command.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
When we disentangle moments later, I’m surging with more confidence than I’ve felt since I had my face buried between her legs two weeks ago. I straighten my collar while she swipes on a new layer of lipstick and then, with her arm threaded through mine, we stroll to the front door.
“By the way,” Lily mutters just before the door opens, “I don’t drink whisky, but I’m good at faking it.”
I just laugh.
The first hour or so is finger foods and chat. Lily and I are becoming pros at this part. We float around the room together, saying hello to whoever we meet. God, parties are different with a date on my arm. I flash back to the first Sonce event, the one I’d gone to solo, the one where my fake girlfriend was only a vague idea. Not flirting with the single women had taken a lot of effort. It’s my MO at parties, and it’s gotten my foot in the door for a good lot of business connections in the past.
But with Lily beside me, I don’t think about circulating or making sure to dole out attention equally. With Lily beside me in that smoldering hot black dress, I can barely see any other women in the room.
The first chance I get, I bend to her ear and let her know it. “You’re stunning tonight, my dear.”
She leans into me as I whisper, a smile lighting up her face. “Stop that,” she says, but the look in her eyes says something quite different.
I dust a kiss on her lips and straighten up—just in time to catch eyes with Nate and one of the marketing execs. They both give me a smile and a nod, then turn away to speak to someone else. Lily and I trade a look of silent agreement that that was a good sign.
Small tables are set up around the great room, and a while later we’re invited to find our designated one. Calder Ross & Lily Maldonado are scrawled on a placard on a two-top in the corner. Lily picks up the cardstock and purses her lips at me.
“So fancy,” she whispers.
“Keep it as a souvenir.”
“You read my mind.” She drops it in her purse and slides into the chair I pull out for her.
Two lines of Glencairn glasses sit on the table, filled with whiskies of varying color. Lily’s brows furrow as she gazes at her four pours, but I take her hand and squeeze. “This is where I teach you about whisky.”
“I told you, I don’t like it.”
“Only because you don’t know how to drink it.”
“I do though. With sour mix.”
I recoil, hand on my heart. “Shut that yankee mouth right now,” I hiss, getting her giggling. “And open your mind. Let me show you what you’re missing.”
“If I hate it, do I have to finish it?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine. Teach me.”
I gesture to the glass on the far left. “We start here. Look.” The descriptions are printed on a menu, so I show her the first pour’s profile. “If you swirl it in the glass, you can watch it run back down. Those are the legs. Now, take a tiny sip but don’t swallow. Just kind of chew it, let the taste coat your mouth.”
She obliges, the line of concentration between her brows utterly adorable.
“Now, swallow. It’ll burn—the first sip of the day always does. But it won’t after that.”
She cringes as she swallows but then says, “Caramel and vanilla. That’s what I tasted.”
“Brilliant. Moving on.”
We work through the next two slowly. With each sip, Lily looks more practiced. She decides she likes the second one best. But when we get to the last glass, she lifts it to her nose and immediately slams it back down on the table.
“Oh god. It’s one of those that smells like a fireplace. No. No, I’m drawing a line.”
“Take it easy. It’s the peat. Peat comes from the bogs; they toast the grain over a peat fire to make it so smoky.”
“Hmm, interesting. I didn’t know that. I’m still not drinking it.”
I laugh again. “Give me a chance. Open your hand.”
She does, so I take a dropper from the vial of water and pull a little of the whisky into it. I squeeze a single drop on her open palm. “Close your eyes and taste it from your hand. Tell me what it makes you think of.”
With her eyes closed, Lily obliges. Again, that furrowed brow as she says, “When I was a little girl, my mom would make banana s'mores."
I squint at her. "What on earth are banana s'mores?"
Lily flashes that flustered smile that makes my dick throb. "You've heard of regular s'mores, right?"
I nod.
"Banana s'mores are when you leave a banana in its peel but cut it lengthwise. Then you stuff it with chocolate chips, min
i marshmallows, and graham cracker bits. You wrap it in foil and set it on an open fire for a couple of minutes."
Her eyes sparkle as she speaks. I don't think she's ever talked about her mom with such fondness, such joy. She looks so pure and happy in this moment. This time it's my heart that's throbbing. “Sounds messy,” I say.
“Incredibly so, yeah. But so much fun, too. Anyway, we would sit outside on summer nights and eat them around a bonfire.” She sniffs her palm and frowns. “I don’t know why I just thought of that. It didn’t taste like this at all, but that’s what I thought of.”
I nod. “That’s the idea. Now, have a sip from the glass. Tell me what you think.”
She sips, lips puckering. “I-hmm. I think it’s not nearly as awful as I imagined. But I don’t really want to drink more of it.”
“Fair enough. Finish your favorite, if you like.”
And so we sit there and talk about whisky while the waiters offer us another pour of our choice. By the time her glass is empty, Lily’s eyes are bright. Her cheeks are flushed. I’m certain I’m the same, given how warm my face is. More than that, I can’t stop smiling.
“Okay, so I guess I drink whisky now,” she says as we finish up. “Sonce whisky, at least. Hey, speaking of that, what does Sonce even mean? I thought at first it was supposed to be sconce, but then wondered why you’d name a whisky after a wall fixture.”
She claps her hand over her mouth as I bark a laugh, which has to be turned into a fake coughing fit to avoid drawing attention. I chuckle into my fist for another long moment before I’m able to say, “Ah, good point, although I’m sure with enough of the ‘water of life’ in you, you could come up with a good reason to use a wall fixture as the name of a drink. But, no. Sonce is derived from Gaelic. It’s a catch-all for good luck, good health, prosperity to ye, all that.”
“That’s definitely more clever than sconce.”
“Indeed.”
Lily studies the now-empty glass again. “So now I drink Sonce whisky. Who knew?”
“I could tell you had it in you. Keep talking like that and they’ll bypass me and make your beautiful face their icon.”
She blushes. “Yeah, right.”
I reach across the table and lace my fingers in hers. “Don’t play the ‘you-don’t-know-you’re-beautiful’ game.”
“You’re the model. I’m just me.”
“I am the model, which means I know beauty when I see it. Objectively, darling, you’re a stunner.”
She bites her lips, then blurts, “Harmony used to tease me in elementary school about how I looked. I know we were just kids, but she… well. Never mind, except to say I always just think I make the best of what I have. But beautiful?” She shrugs to finish the thought.
My eyes narrow. “Harmony? As in the future wife of what’s-his-name? She seemed to be working hard to be kind to you. I thought—”
Lily waves a hand. “Yeah, I know. I don’t get it, but hey. We all grew up, I guess. It’s fine.”
“Sound a wee bit more like you’re fibbing, and your nose will start to grow.” I huff out a breath and drain my whisky. “Fuck it, and fuck whatever she told you. I want to hear you say you’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” Lily’s eyes go wide as she claps a hand over her mouth. “Damn whisky,” she mumbles.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Try again. You’re beautiful. Say it.”
“You’re beautiful.” This time, she laughs and reaches for the half-full first pour.
I swipe it from her in time. “No, Professor. Don’t be daft—and don’t hide behind the liquor. It is a bit of truth serum, maybe, so I’ll take the compliment, but that doesn’t change our focus.”
“Ugh, I hate moments like this, when guys try to be cute and pay compliments. Fine. I’m beautiful. Happy?”
Her eye-rolls and petulant tone make me smirk, but I shake my head, too. “Not on this point, but we’ll get there.”
She eyes the whisky. “I really did like this. I’m full of surprises these days, aren’t I?”
“It seems so.”
“No, it is so. Since when do I drink straight whisky and tell hot guys to—shh, damn, people are around, Lily. Watch your tongue, young lady.” She claps a hand over her mouth, but her eyes are still smiling.
I cock a brow and lean closer. “Once we leave, I’d love to hear the end of that thought.”
Her eyes glow a little brighter. “Okay. Hmm, but in the meantime, I was thinking that I wish I could do something like this with you. Introduce you to something I’m good at. Oh, like art!”
Her glazed-over eyes shine bright. I’m godawful at even drawing stick figures, so I know without a doubt I’d be a terrible student, even with a brilliant teacher like Lily. But I’ll say anything to keep that glorious smile on her beautiful face.
“Sounds like a fair trade to me. Maybe next weekend?”
“If you’re good, maybe.”
“I’d love to know what being good means in that brain of yours, Lily.”
She looks down, then up again. Her pupils are dilated. “When you flirt with me, Calder, I—”
“Shh. People.” I nod as the waiter heads our way to clear the table.
“People,” she whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”
We say a quick goodnight. In the car, I lift Lily’s knuckles to my lips. She watches as I dust another kiss on her hand.
“Professor Lily, it is not the whisky talking when I say that I want you to come home with me tonight.”
Before she can do more than open her mouth, a rap on my window makes us both jump. Nate is grinning down at us.
“After-party on the beach. You all interested?”
“Of course.”
I turn to Lily, who’s just spoken for us, and then look back at Nate to say, “Well then, I suppose that’s a yes. We’ll follow you.”
He disappears, and Lily shrugs. “I want to go to your place, but this is a good chance to be seen.”
“Must you be so right so often?” I sigh, and she laughs.
We drive to the beach and park. I take one glance at Lily in that sleeveless black dress and jog around to my trunk to fetch the blanket I keep there. Lily rubs it between her fingers when I open her door, humming appreciatively.
“Scottish wool, love. We do this right—along with, you know, everything else.”
She laughs and takes my hand. “Do you miss it?”
“What?” I ask as I lead her to the dark path out to the beach.
Her hand clamps tight on mine in the darkness. “Scotland.”
“Nah. Well, it’s home, if you know what I mean. But I’m not sorry I left. I knew what I wanted to do, and I’m doing it. No sense in homesickness if that’s the case, eh?”
“Makes sense. I—shit!” She stumbles on a loose plank and lurches forward, but I pull on her hand and have my arms around her in a heartbeat.
Lily’s shoulder lands on my chest as I steady her and turn her to face me. She’s gripping my arms tight, and I don’t give her a chance to even look up at me before bending to capture her lips with mine. Her tension disappears, her body melts into me, and I’m rocked by this insane need to touch her.
‘As long as we both like it’… I don’t know what in the bloody hell you want from me, Lily, but I want to be it to you.
The thought opens my eyes even while I continue to kiss her. Why is she so compelling? What is it about this woman that’s had me operating from a whole different set of rules since day one? She needs a fake boyfriend; I need a clean image to get this gig. Why can’t that be enough?
I have no idea, but I’m beyond sure it isn’t.
“Calder,” she murmurs. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I pull her tighter.
In the distance, an orange blaze drags us both out of the moment. Cheering follows, and she and I pull apart and catch our breath as we gaze at the growing bonfire.
“Right. People,” she mutters, and I chuckle.
We walk
gingerly toward the party and are greeted by Eileen with beers for both of us. I help Lily settle on a wooden bench and wrap us in the blanket. She snuggles against me, but her hand slides to my inner thigh.
“Watch it, Professor,” I hiss in her ear.
She squeezes, and I have to fight off a moan. “But I want to.”
Fuck. “Then you shouldn’t have brought us here.”
Her musical laugh has the dual effect of arousing me further and making me laugh. “I regret my choices. But come on, this is awesome, right?”
I kiss the top of her head and breathe deeply the sweet scent of her shampoo. “Darling, I daresay every moment spent with you is awesome.”
“Oh, hush. The bachelorette party wasn’t awesome.”
“Ah, but if not for that hot pink dress and the call for ‘shots, shots, shots,’ we might not be here right now.”
“True. Hmm. I have a higher opinion of that pink dress suddenly.”
“You’re a fool. That pink dress is a godsend.”
She laughs and smacks my leg.
That’s the night. The conversation fluctuates between the whole group, led primarily by Nate’s and my stories from our teen years which entertain everyone, and one-on-one chats between all the couples.
I learn about Lily’s childhood. I learn about art school. We talk about art, museums, favorite pieces. I learn her favorite color. I learn about her childhood cat’s name. She laughs herself silly as I recount the first time I was well and truly drunk. She laughs even harder as Nate and I trade insults, our accents stronger and stronger until half the group has no idea what in the hell we’re saying. And when I translate the back-and-forth, my girl giggles until she’s got her face buried in my shoulder, helpless with mirth as I hug her close and admit to myself that there has never been a lass I liked nearly as much as her.
It’s not a night of moans and sweat and tangled sheets. But it is one I’ll never forget.
18
Lily
I hazard another glance at Calder as he sits on the floor in the middle of the classroom. His left leg is bent up and his left elbow rests on his knee. His right leg rests flat on the ground, along with his right hand. The sound of charcoal dragging slowly across sheets of paper is the only sound that fills this space. Just then he darts his eyes to me, and his mouth twitches up.