by Sky Corgan
Colton: My lips are sealed, then.
“Jerkface.”
Why did I ever agree to go out on a date with him? This guy is impossible.
Briefly, I think about canceling the date, but deep down inside I know I really want to go on it. Colton is interesting and exciting and unlike any other man I've ever met. Not to mention that he is drop dead gorgeous. Never in a million years did I think I would catch the attention of someone like him. And now that I know I have it, there's a part of me that's scared to lose it.
Still, I fear the unknown. Fear the kind of man that he is. He's very capable of hurting me if I let him get too close. That's why I can't let him get too close.
I have to see this for what it is, probably just a few dates to pass the time. As soon as he figures out that I'm serious about not putting out, he'll likely move on to the next woman who is more than willing to spread her legs for him. I'm just going to ride it out and enjoy his company until then. It's not like I have anything better to do.
Tired of trying to settle on a dress on my own, I do eeny, meeny, miny, moe with my current selections and land on a black lace shift dress. To be honest, it was the least favorite of my three choices. The least likely to seduce Colton. But I shouldn't be worried about seducing him anyways, I remind myself.
I pull it over my head and sigh as I look at my reflection in the mirror. The high neckline and long lace sleeves leave a lot to the imagination. The only thing sexy about the dress is that it's short. I pair it with black sandals and wear my hair down in waves. All of my makeup is done in nude tones. The goal is to look as unsultry as possible, and I've accomplished it well, making me seem more like a girl than a woman. Hopefully, it will keep him from advancing on me.
The memory of his kiss is still fresh in my mind. I recall the moment that he walked out of my office and closed the door behind him. I was so flustered, so overwhelmed with a mix of forbidden cravings. I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip, wanting to taste him again. He left behind the faintest hint of mint. It's gone now, though, and a deep part of me wants it back.
I flit my tongue across my lips and taste the waxiness of my lipstick. Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I realize that I'm projecting what I feel inside. An inexperienced girl who is terrified of everything in relation to men. I look innocent, but the truth is that my body has been soiled. Moving to Houston was a way for me to start fresh, to try to put the past behind me—pretend it never happened. A large part of the last three years has been spent building up an impenetrable wall and refusing to let anyone get close to me.
I never thought I would want to let anyone get close to me after what I've been through.
I never realized that a time would come when I'd get tired of being alone—when I'd know that I had to make a change to truly heal. This is all part of that. Going to therapy. Starting to date.
Up to this point, I've only been willing to go on dates with men whom I'm certain wouldn't overstep their bounds. Colton Larsen is dangerous in that regard. He's a loaded gun with no safety, and I'm the stupid child who thought it might be fun to play with him. He's so pretty and shiny and new. Surely, it won't hurt to take the chance. Famous last words.
There's an uncomfortable feeling in my chest as the clock ticks down to seven. It feels like indigestion, but I know that it's nerves. The closer it gets to the time I'm supposed to see Colton again, the more I think it's a bad idea. If things get too intense, though, I can always put on my snarky mask. That has served me well thus far. My words are my weapons, and I can be brutal with them. Brutal enough to scare most people away.
The doorbell rings five minutes before seven. I'm already ready, sitting on the sofa in my living room with my clutch in my hands. My palms are sweating. My whole body is sweating despite the fact that I've turned down the air conditioner twice already.
I open the door to a man in a driver's uniform. He smiles at me politely and escorts me to a limousine downstairs. I roll my eyes at it before getting in. Rich guys and their pretentious gestures. He probably rented this thing just for our date. Or maybe he owns it. I don't care. I'm not impressed. As soon as I agreed to go out on a date with him, I expected this much.
When I duck down into the limo, the first thing I see is Colton's smile. It stops my heart for a split second. Literally, stops my heart.
He looks different from earlier, has changed out of the stuffy suit. Now he's wearing navy blue slacks and a matching jacket on top of a light gray dress shirt. The most noticeable difference, though, is that he's wearing glasses. Holy sexy nerd. I never knew that glasses could look so good on a guy.
“There she is,” he sounds genuinely pleased.
I sit as far away from him as possible. Thanks to the roominess of the limo, it's not hard to put space between us. “You look different.”
“My eyes were dry.” He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Why are you sitting so far away?”
“Because I don't trust you.”
“Ouch.” He acts hurt.
“Well, you have been lying to me about your identity all this time.”
“You act like I'm the only one who lied.” He smirks, resting his arm across the back of the seat. I'm painfully aware that if I were next to him, that arm would likely be across my shoulder. A twinge of desire rolls through me to feel his touch, but I quickly push it back.
He looks so casual and confident, oozing sexual energy. It fills the limo like a powerful pheromone, makes me weak. The fact that his cologne smells delicious doesn't help. The scent is masculine and expensive. His bottle of cologne probably costs more than the dress I'm wearing. The rich jerk can afford whatever he wants. Must be nice.
“So where are we going?” I ignore his jab at me.
“To a restaurant.”
I nod. “Somewhere outlandishly expensive, I presume.”
“You presume a lot about me for someone who doesn't know me.”
“It's easy to presume when you project that you probably wipe your ass with Benjamins.”
Laughter bellows out from him, and I have to admit that I like the sound. Anyone else would be offended.
“Would you rather I take you to McDonalds?”
“At least, I can pronounce the things on the menu there. If you're expecting me to be cultured, then you're going to be highly disappointed.”
“I expect you to be human, Ember.”
His words catch me off guard. They're oddly soothing, like he doesn't want me to pretend to be anything that I'm not for his sake. Not like I was planning on that anyway.
“Well, I bleed red, if that qualifies me for being human.”
“You're too far away. Come over here.” He motions for me to join him on the other side of the limo.
“Only if you promise not to make a move on me.”
“I make no promises, especially when you look like that.” His gaze falls to my legs, the only exposed part of me. Instantly, I press them together tighter.
“Maybe I should have worn jeans and a turtle neck. My goal for the night was not to fill your head with perverted thoughts.”
“You could have come out in a paper bag, and I would still be fantasizing about you.”
I grin and against my better judgment make the transition to sit next to him. If I was hot before in my apartment, it's nothing compared to how I feel now. His gaze is like a heat lamp. I can feel him looking at me, undressing me with his eyes, doing unspeakable things that my body secretly craves.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” He rubs my shoulder lightly with his index finger.
“Yes,” I admit, keeping my hands in my lap. My posture screams stay away from me.
“Why?”
“Because I'm not used to this. Not used to guys like you.”
“Guys like me,” he chuckles. “You think you know me so well.”
“All I know of you is BoxPup.” I brave looking over at him. The charming smile hasn't faded from his perfect face. He seems highly amused an
d so in control. It's sexy as hell. I absolutely hate how my body reacts to him.
“BoxPup is only a part of me. Tonight, you're going to get to know the real me.”
That's what I'm afraid of. That the real you will be someone horrible. That I'll add tonight to my list of regrets. Regrets that I've spent years trying to get over.
“No sex tonight,” I say sheepishly.
“No sex. Unless that's what you want, of course.”
“It won't be,” I insist.
“If you say so.”
We pull into a shopping center and stop in front of Sushi Choo Choo. Guilt fills me for thinking that he would take me somewhere over the top, but the bigger feeling that assaults me is dread. I don't like seafood. I probably should have told him that when we were in the limo, but I had just assumed he'd take me somewhere with a variety of cuisine.
I give pause outside of the restaurant, staring up at the colorful sign that depicts a cartoon drawing of an Asian man saying Choo Choo. My expression is a tell-all for the lack of excitement that I feel.
Colton gives me a queer look. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I lie.
“You don't like sushi, do you?” He wrinkles his nose, catching his mistake.
“Not really.” I recoil slightly.
The limo is already pulling off. Colton takes out his phone to call the driver back, and I'm surprised when I hear him speaking French. Minutes later, we're back inside of the limo headed to another unknown destination.
“Do you have any other food preferences or allergies I should know about?” he asks, not sounding the least bit bothered by the fact that I shot down his first idea.
“Maybe you should take me to McDonalds after all.” I sink down into the seat, wishing I could just disappear.
“Nonsense. These things happen when two people don't know each other well. I should have asked you if you liked sushi instead of assuming. Assuming does not appear to be our strong suit.” He smiles at me, and suddenly everything feels okay again. It's unexpected how soothing he is—how kind.
“No. It doesn't.” I'm quiet for several moments before I speak again. “So how do you know French?”
“The same way anyone learns another language. I studied it.”
“You're such a smartass.” I roll my eyes at him. “Why did you study it?”
“Because I wanted to.” The amusement is plain on his face.
“Is your driver French?”
“No.”
“Then why did you speak French to him?” I quirk an eyebrow, confused.
“Because I didn't want you to know where we're going. He speaks French. I speak French. I assumed that you do not speak French. Was it a safe assumption?”
I'm only mildly offended that he figured out on his own that I'm not multilingual. While I do know a bit of Spanish, it's hardly enough to carry on a conversation. Learning different languages has never been of any interest to me since I don't intend to leave the United States.
“Are you taking me to McDonalds?” I tease, ignoring answering his question for fear of sounding stupid.
“No.”
“Not going to give me a clue, huh?”
“What will you do for a clue?” he hums at me.
The connotation behind his words makes me blush. I know he's thinking of something perverted.
“I guess I'll just have to wait and see when we get there.”
“Well, you're no fun.”
“I could have told you that.” I smirk.
“Maybe some wine will loosen you up.” He draws a circle on my knee with his index finger. Electricity shoots up my leg from the contact. Part of me doesn't like that he's touching me, but a needy, neglected part of me does.
“I know better than to drink around you.” I stare at his hand, considering brushing it away.
“I promise I'm not the monster you're making me out to be.”
“Oh?”
“I'm worse.” His grin turns wolfish, and my nerves spike thinking that he's going to advance on me. He doesn't. Instead, he keeps his distant. That teasing distance where he's close enough to touch me. Close enough for me to inhale his scent.
We pull onto South Shepherd Drive and stop in front of the Backstreet Cafe, a large 30's-era house that's been transformed into a restaurant. As I gaze up at the lighted windows, immaculate landscaping, and tall trees, I can't help but think that this is a lot closer to what I had originally imagined when he said we were going to a restaurant. A lot closer, but not quite.
“This is nice,” I mumble as I step out of the limo.
“You approve?” He glances over at me.
“That depends on the menu.”
“It's not sushi. I promise.” He winks at me, and I feel the butterflies in my stomach flutter. What he can do to me with just one look. I hate to think how I'd feel if things got intimate between us.
The hostess leads us through the building and onto the patio. It's a perfect night to dine outside. The sun has been down just long enough to cool the air but not make it too chilly. We're seated next to a large fountain, which gives the place a romantic feeling. It reminds me of a date that Richard would take me on. That sours my mood a bit. I wonder if I have as little in common with Colton as I do with Richard. If that's the case, I might not want to see him again. While the physical attraction between us is out of this world, if I don't feel like I can connect with him on some level emotionally, this definitely won't work.
Why are you thinking about that? Dating him is just temporary, remember. You shouldn't be taking this so seriously.
When our waitress places the menus before us, I'm thankful that everything on them is somewhat familiar. For the things that I don't know, there's a description printed next to the item.
Colton orders a Moscow Mule and then glances over at me to see if I'd like any alcohol. I politely decline and order water instead.
“I wouldn't take you for a fruity drink kind of guy.” I watch him continue to look over the drink menu even though he already ordered.
“I like to live a little from time to time. Drinking the same thing all of the time gets boring.”
“So you don't have an old faithful?”
“An old faithful?” he laughs.
“Yeah. Something you would normally order.” I make a circular gesture with my hand.
“I've never heard it called that before.” He pulls his chair in a bit closer to the table. The metal legs make a scratching sound against the brick floor. “If I had a drink of choice, I'd say it's brandy. That's my go-to when I'm too lazy to make myself something else. Generally, I tend to drink whatever I feel in the mood for at the time. But I'm certainly not a snob about alcohol. I can enjoy a cheap beer just as much as an expensive bottle of wine. I'm really not picky.”
“Hm. Whoda thunk it?” I continue looking over the menu to avoid making eye contact with him even though I already know what I plan on ordering.
“What about you? What's your poison?”
“If I'm out with co-workers, margaritas. If I'm at dinner, wine, typically.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I'm not much on margaritas. A lot of places make them too tart. Gives me reflux.”
“That makes you sound like an old man,” I laugh.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh?”
I glance at him over my menu and immediately regret it. His charming smile makes something inside of me melt, and that wetness goes straight to my panties. He looks like a model sitting lounged back, his leg crossed over his knee and his elbow resting on the arm of his chair with just the tip of his index finger touching his jaw.
Thankfully, the waitress saves me from having to respond by coming to take our order. I order the fried green tomato salad, and Colton orders the lamb shank. He asks if I want anything else, and when I decline he adds an appetizer of duck spring rolls to our order.
“I refuse to allow you to eat like a bird around me,” he tells me once the waitre
ss has left.
“Demanding much,” I huff at him, though I'm not really annoyed. I'm too nervous to have much of an appetite, despite the fact that everything on the menu looks delicious.
“Sometimes.” He winks at me.
“Are you always this bold?” I place my napkin across my lap.
Colton cocks his head to the side in thought. “Most of the time.”
“So tell me a little about yourself. You told me I'm going to get to learn about the real you today.”
“You'll learn about the real me later.” His eyes suggest a different meaning.
I give him a sarcastic look. “I'm being serious. How did you get to be so rich and arrogant?”
“Wow. You make me sound like a total snob,” he chuckles.
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, if I'm being completely honest, I was born to privilege. My parents own the mineral rights to about two dozen oil wells in West Texas. On top of that, they also collect real estate. Ambition runs in my family.
“I have two siblings, both older than me. Mary, my eldest sister, is a doctor. My other sister, Joyce, is a model. She's currently in Jamaica doing a photo shoot. And then there's me, immersed in buying out struggling companies and turning them into profitable ones.”
“I wasn't aware that Full Hearts was struggling.” I take a sip of my water. “Then again, Freddie almost never talks about the business in regards to profits and losses and what not.”
“He doesn't strike me as the most competent person when it comes to effectively running a business.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He kept you on to scare away customers, didn't he?”
The comment is biting. It makes me feel like a bad employee and even worse...a bad person. Colton is making it sound like I'm the reason the company has been suffering.
“He could have always just fired me.” I allow my agitation to shine through.
“I can see why he didn't.” He swirls the ice in his glass.
“And why is that?”
“I think that somewhere beneath that snarky, rude exterior is a nice person.”
“I was only doing my job, you know?” I avert my eyes.