by Sarah Curtis
Especially not that.
The few times he’d tried a relationship had been disastrous. Women wanted a lot of attention and would tend to get upset when they didn’t get it. Not that he blamed them. He knew they deserved better than what he was willing to give. But they also never walked blindly into an association with him. He’d always been upfront. Either they didn’t believe him or thought they could change him. Whichever the case, when they eventually walked away, it had been on them.
For some reason, he didn’t want that for Ivy. Better to not get involved. He didn’t want to see her get hurt.
Mind resolved, he cranked up the speed on the treadmill until his thighs started to burn and his breaths came in harsh pants. Sweat trickled over his brow that he wiped with a towel and down his spine which he ignored.
He just wished it were as easy to ignore thoughts of Ivy.
“Wow. This place is nothing like I’d envisioned.”
Colt had just finished giving Ivy a tour of his house, starting with the kitchen and ending in the living room. “Not a mansion?”
“Goodness, no.” Her eyes widened. “I meant that in a good way.”
He dipped his head. “Of course.”
She’d arrived right on time, messenger bag in tow, wearing a shirt proclaiming: Always be yourself, unless you can be Gimli, then always be Gimli. He didn’t know who the hell Gimli was, but the crossed battle axes gave him a clue he was a warrior of some sort.
She also now sported purple streaks mixed with the pink. He’d done a double-take when he’d first opened the door—it’d been a little jarring and had taken a bit to get used to—but it suited her. Honestly, she could shave her head bald and still be beautiful.
She looked around, spying his guitar leaning in the corner of the room. “Do you play?”
“I do.”
“Ooh, multi-talented.”
He chuckled. “I said I played, not that I play well. Do you play an instrument?”
“Me? No. Well, not unless you count the recorder. On that, I can bust out a mean rendition of the Star Wars theme song.”
“I think that counts,” he said and smiled.
“I can also pound out Mary Had a Little Lamb on the keyboard. But that one probably doesn’t count.” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and inched her way to the fireplace mantel. “Your parents?”
Colt nodded. “And the picture next to them is my sister.” For some reason, he wanted to make that clear.
“She looks like your mom.” Ivy turned her head, a smile tipping her lips.
He took a step toward her and then another. It was like some magical force was drawing him closer.
“Who’s that?”
He looked to where she pointed. “Cujo. He was the sweetest damn dog you’d ever meet.”
She raised her brows. “And you named him Cujo?”
“Dad wanted a watchdog. He hoped the name would rub off.”
“Do you have any pets?” She glanced around as if expecting one to pop out.
He shook his head. “I’m on the road too much. Though I do miss hanging with Cujo. We had to put him down my senior year of high school.”
“I’m sorry. I never had a pet growing up. I wonder what’s worse, having one and losing it or never having one at all?”
“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
“Quoting Tennyson. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t know who wrote it, just the quote.”
“It’s from his Poem, In Memoriam A.H.H. The A.H.H stood for his dear friend Arthur Henry Hallam who died at the age of twenty-two.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
She blushed. “Sorry. I know my fact spouting can get annoying.”
“I never said that.”
“It was implied.”
“There was no such implication.”
That shut her up, for all of two seconds, before she burst out laughing.
His brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”
She didn’t answer, she was laughing too hard, doubled over with an arm wrapping her stomach.
His hands went to his hips.
She held up a hand, palm out, halting him or telling him to wait a minute—he wasn’t sure.
Her laughter turned to a few stray giggles and she wiped tears from her cheeks. “Sorry.” Her hand landed on her stomach as she took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I found that so funny.” Another stray giggle. “It just sounded so formal coming from someone like…” Her words trailed off as her eyes widened.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you implying jocks are stupid?”
“No!”
“Because that’s what it sounded like.” He was giving her a hard time. He couldn’t help it. He loved to watch her squirm.
“I didn’t mean you as a jock.”
He raised a brow. “So you just meant me in general?”
“No! Oh, poodoo. I’m shutting up now.”
He decided to put her out of her misery. “Relax, I know what you meant.”
“Maybe it’s a good idea if I get started on my presentation. You know, talk about something I’ve actually rehearsed so I don’t stick my foot in my mouth again.”
He chuckled and swept an arm toward the couch. “Is here okay?”
“Yes.” She pulled her laptop from her bag and set it on the coffee table.
Colt sat on the couch and after a second’s hesitation, Ivy sat on the cushion next to him. She reached over and opened her laptop.
After a minute passed, she apologized, “Sorry, it’s a little slow.”
“No problem.” He also noticed one of the keys was missing.
She double-clicked on an icon and tapped a couple more keys. A PowerPoint presentation popped up.
He paid close attention as she went through her spiel, talking to him about revamping his logo and tagline for better impact, using eye-catching colors for the website, utilizing other forms of social media, and a few other things that, Colt had to admit, were a really good idea. He realized hiring a professional should have been one of his first priorities and was kicking himself for not doing it sooner. If even half of what she proposed panned out, he could reach a much broader audience.
“You said you do charity fundraisers. I checked online. There are very few photos of you interacting at those events. I’d like to change that. People respond to positive visual stimuli.”
“It just so happens we’re having one next Saturday at our center. It’s the last major event before football season starts. Feel free to come and hang out.”
“That’s perfect. I can get some great shots to add to your social media.”
They went over a few more things, nailed down the colors to use for the website, and brainstormed ideas to revamp the branding.
She closed her laptop. “Let me go home and start working on this. I’ll have more to show you tomorrow if you have time to look at it.”
“Why don’t you just work on it here?” He surprised himself as much as her. “I mean, wouldn’t that be easier? That way if you had any questions or wanted to run an idea by me, I’m right here.”
“Yes, having you around would be handy, but I don’t want to occupy your whole day.”
“I planned to hang out at home anyway. Come on, I’ll show you where you can set up.”
He took her to his office.
She stepped inside, her eyes zeroing in on his top-of-the-line desktop. She walked over and fingered the keyboard. “Wow. Is it okay if I use this?” She looked a bit guilty. “I’ll need to save a couple of programs to your hard drive. Would that be okay?”
“Sure. I rarely use it. Make yourself at home.”
She felt along the side of the monitor and clicked the start button before taking a seat in the leather chair. The computer blinked to life.
He lost her attention.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Shout out if you need me.”
She gave him a preoccupied nod, and he backed out of the office to leave her be to play with her new toy.
Colt must have walked by his closed office door at least twenty times in the past hour, trying to think of an excuse to enter.
He wasn’t sure if she’d been at it long enough to have something to show him.
He couldn’t think of anything he needed from his office that he could make a pretense of grabbing.
His eyes bore a hole through the closed door. He should just walk in to check if she needed anything. Maybe she was thirsty. He could offer her some coffee.
Shit. Did he have any? He didn’t drink the stuff, and he couldn’t remember if he had any tucked away in a cupboard somewhere.
He tapped on the door then poked his head in. “I’m going on a coffee run. Do you want one?”
Her head had been buried in the computer screen but popped up at the word coffee.
Bingo.
“I’d love a vanilla latte.”
“Be back in a few minutes. Just call if you need anything while I’m gone.”
“Will do.” She gave him a thumbs up, and he shook his head as he backed out the door. Too fucking cute.
In the car, he typed Starbucks into his car’s navigation system. There were five of them surrounding his house. He tapped on the closest one and was there in under three minutes even getting stopped at one red light.
The drive-thru line wrapped around the building. He debated parking and going inside but nixed that idea pretty fucking quick. If he were recognized, it would take even longer.
Four songs into Imagine Dragons’ Evolve album and he was pulling up to the order speaker. He flipped off the radio and pushed the button to roll down the window.
“Welcome to Starbucks. How are you this fine day?”
Not expecting that question, he answered with a throwaway. “Fine.”
“Great. How can I make your day better?”
“Um…” What the fuck? Was he supposed to answer that? Too many thoughts of Ivy floated through his head. Lots of things she could do to make is day better. “Pardon?”
“What can I get started for you?”
Ah. “I’d like a large vanilla latte.”
“Venti?”
“What?”
“A venti vanilla latte?”
“If that’s large, then yes.”
“Hot or iced?”
Shit. He didn’t know. To be on the safe side, he’d order one of each. “Both.”
“A hot and iced venti vanilla latte?”
“Yes.” Since when did ordering coffee get so complicated? He also now knew why the line was so damn long.
“Will that complete your order?”
“Yes.”
“Great. That will be nine thirty at the next window, please.”
Colt did the math in his head. Five bucks for coffee, the non-stop line of cars, and all the locations… That was the kind of revenue he wanted to make for Colt’s Kids. He would love nothing better than for every abused child in America to have access to some form of support. Hell, why stop there? His dream should be every child in the world. And Ivy was the first step to making that happen.
Once back home, he rounded the corner to his office. “I come bearing—” The sight before him stopped him in his tracks.
Ivy still sat hunched at his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen, but instead of the slight gloom that he’d left her in, now a bright beam of sunlight shone through the window. The light surrounded her like an aura, making her glow.
She’d piled her hair atop her head leaving wispy, baby hairs to brush her exposed neck. The strands had a life of their own, almost translucent. He wanted to touch them, find out if they were as soft as they looked.
Her head raised, a smile transforming her face and reaching her eyes. “Ah, nectar from the gods.”
He was frozen in place.
Her smile fell. “Everything okay?”
He shook himself. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted. Hot or cold.”
“Hot is great. Thank you.” A line formed between her eyes when he still hesitated, then cleared when she said, “Come here, I want to show you something.”
He set both coffees down as he rounded the desk, their cheeks almost touching as he leaned over to get a look at the screen.
“I’ve bookmarked all the new accounts I’ve added so you can easily find them. I’ve written all the usernames and passwords down for you.” With a few clicks, she’d opened several browser tabs. “You’ve never accessed Facebook on this computer. I’ll need that info to log in.”
“I don’t know it. I’ll need to make a phone—” they both turned their heads at the same time and their faces were so close, their noses almost touched, “—call.”
Staring into her eyes, her mouth right there so tempting, without thinking, he closed the distance. Soft and yielding, her lips parted. He tasted honey as he licked at them, sucking the bottom one into his mouth.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Reaching for her, he captured her under the arms, lifting. Her chest collided with his sternum then grazed his chest as he raised her higher, never breaking the kiss.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging in to hold on.
He moved them a step, sitting her on the desk. Hands now free to roam, he cradled her head, his fingers diving into her hair to tip her head back farther. She opened for him, and he didn’t hesitate to take more of what she offered. Passing her lips, his tongue explored, and she tasted so damn sweet it brought a growl from his chest.
Her legs circled his thighs and she caught herself, hands planted on the top of the desk, as he bent her back, tasting her deeper.
It still wasn’t enough. Her taste. Her scent. The velvety feel of her hair against his fingertips. Her soft moans making his dick so hard it screamed for relief.
Shit.
He pulled back, trying to catch his breath as his chest seized. What was he doing?
With sultry eyes at half-mast and lips dewy and red from his assault, she gazed up at him.
His hands shook as he untangled them from her hair and stepped away.
Her eyes opened, spearing him. “Holy Sith.”
He took another step back, giving her room to stand, and raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he did know, kissing Ivy had been a mistake. A huge one. Because that kiss was something he would never forget.
“Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Ivy
“Don’t be sorry. Do it again.” For once, she was happy she had no filter. She wanted his mouth back.
“I can’t.”
“Since your lips haven’t fallen off, I think you can.”
She saw a glimpse of a smile before he hid it. “I meant, it’s not a good idea.”
She was distracted from answering when warmth hit her thigh. She looked down to see her coffee had spilled and was soaking into the material of her jeans.
She leapt from the desk with an eek. Craning her neck, she saw the ass of her jeans was wet, too.
“Let me grab a towel.”
He was gone and back again in under a minute, a roll of paper towels in his hand.
He handed her a few sheets then went to work mopping up the spill on the desk and carpet. The air smelled of vanilla and coffee and she would’ve been sorry she missed out if the course of events leading to the spill hadn’t been so kriffing fantastic. There was still the iced one left. Not her favorite, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She patted at her jeans with no effect, the towel coming away dry. She squatted instead to help with the carpet. “This is going to stain if we don’t use a little soap and water.”
Their faces were close once more as he looked up, and for a moment, she thought for sure he was going to kiss her again, but instead, he stood.
He looked as if he were about to say something, but then his eyes snagged on her jeans. “I�
��ll take care of it in a minute. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” He led her upstairs to his bedroom and connecting bath. “I’ll grab a pair of sweats you can change into.”
Ivy had gotten a quick peek at the bathroom on her tour earlier, but waiting for Colt to return, she was able to look her fill. Even with all the marble, it felt warm. She attributed that to the brown and tan color scheme and size—not small, but definitely not large. A walk-in shower encased with frosted glass took up a substantial portion of the space, followed by the two-sink vanity, and a toilet in the corner. All the fixtures were brass, adding to the warmth.
“These will swim on you, but it’s better than wet jeans.”
He handed over a pair of black, jersey sweats with a logo in silver of a scythe encased in a circle. A double meaning perhaps? Not only was his team the Phantoms—with the Grim Reaper being the big daddy Phantom of Death—but maybe it also symbolized how they killed out on the field. Something she’d need to ask him about when she wasn’t standing in wet jeans. “Thanks.”
He backed out of the bathroom, shutting the door. She turned on the water and peeled off her jeans while waiting for it to grow hot. Finding a washcloth under the sink, she wet it, then used it to wash the sticky coffee from her leg. That’s when she discovered the ass of her underwear was wet. Stepping out of those too, she ran them and her jeans under the tap so they wouldn’t stain. Then she stood there wondering what to do with them. The jeans weren’t embarrassing, but she couldn’t leave her panties lying on the counter for him to see them. She stuffed them in the pocket of her jeans. They’d have to dry out later.
Colt was right, his sweats were too big. Not only did the legs extend past her feet, but the elastic waist hung low, barely catching on her hip bones. She searched for the little string that was usually found in the band, but there wasn’t one. She tried rolling the waist, but by the time it was tight enough to stay up, the crotch rode too high and without underwear, it was not a good look. On to Plan B.