Her eyes widen. “Why does everything end with me naked?”
I lift my beer, hiding a smile. “You did have a fondness for being naked as a kid.”
She shakes her head. “Right? I’m such a wuss now.”
“You totally are.”
“Hey!”
I chuckle quietly, and she shoots me a dark look. She’s not used to teasing. “I’m just agreeing with you,” I tell her.
A few minutes later, I watch as she takes her first tentative sip. “Mmm, it’s delicious!”
The protector comes out in me. “Careful, sometimes the sweet stuff disguises the alcohol and you drink it too fast.” I’m not sure if I’m protecting her or me.
She slurps again and presses her fingers to her forehead. “Brain freeze. Let’s split some lobster nachos. I skipped dinner.”
I straighten in my seat. “Chloe, never drink on an empty stomach.”
“Yes, sir,” she says sharply.
Did I come off too harsh? I’m the chill guy you party with. Man, this is fucked up.
I try for a friendly tone. “Sure, I can always go for nachos.”
She places the order and turns back to me. “I like having a guy friend. It’s like you’re a natural repellant to any other guy who might approach.” She inclines her head toward the two guys at the end of the bar. They’re in their twenties, probably locals.
I clench my jaw. Just what I always wanted to be—guy repellant.
One beer and I’m out of here.
I guzzle down a healthy amount. I’m starting to feel it, actually, because it’s my third beer of the night. I had a couple earlier at the poker game. Good thing we ordered nachos. I should slow down on this beer.
She pokes my chest. “Guess what?”
She’s touching me.
I look over. “What?” Oh, shit. Her drink is nearly gone.
“I feel super happy.” She gasps. “Is this what a buzz feels like?”
I stifle a laugh. “Yeah.”
She laughs and drains her glass. “Fantastic work here, Mr. Bartender. Can you bring another?”
He inclines his head and gets to work.
“That’s fine, but eat before you drink any more,” I say. “Got it?” I sound like a total buzzkill. I am a total buzzkill. I just can’t let this situation get out of hand.
“Bren-dan.” She stretches out my name in a playful voice. “I’m fine.”
“I say this as your good friend with experience in alcohol territory. You’re small and you have no tolerance.” And now I sound like I have a stick up my ass. I console myself that it’s the protective instinct she brings out in me. I’m still a fun guy. Really.
“Small,” she scoffs. “I pack a mighty punch.” She punches my shoulder and it feels like a tap. That’s not me playing tough. It’s like she’s never thrown a punch in her life.
I wince like it hurt, and she rubs my shoulder. “Sorry,” she singsongs. “Now you’ll have to admit I’m five feet three of pure power.”
The bartender approaches with her drink, and I shake him off. “Can you bring it with the nachos?”
“Brendan Rourke!” she exclaims.
“Dr. Travers.”
She sobers. “Am I acting embarrassing?”
“Just a little loud.”
“Okay, you’re the expert.” She nods at the bartender to hold the drink.
I relax. “That’s right. I’m the expert on Villroy breezes for virgin drinkers.”
“Oh, I’m not a virgin.”
Walked right into that one.
I shake my head as she leans close. I just know she’s about to overshare. “Don’t—”
She goes on in a loud stage whisper. “I lost it to Mike at biomedical engineering summer camp when I was sixteen. I had a full scholarship at Penn’s special camp for science enthusiasts ’cuz that’s how I roll.”
My shoulders tense. Was Mike another student or a teacher? And what is it with her and guys named Michael? “And how old was Mike?”
“Sixteen.”
I relax.
“He wasn’t very good at it at first, but—”
“No need to—”
She holds up a finger. “By the end of the summer, he finally found the magic button.” She pulls me by the shoulder to whisper loudly in my ear, “I’m being polite for mixed company. Of course, the correct anatomical term is…” She bursts out laughing, and I jerk back to save my hearing.
“I’m really feeling it now, Bren!”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m getting that.”
She sighs happily. “I like having a guy friend. Now you can tell me the guy point of view. Why do guys think a woman sitting alone at the library studying wants to talk about what she’s doing over the weekend?”
She looks perplexed. Does she not realize how beautiful and sexy she is?
She shakes my shoulder. “Come on, you’re a guy. Tell me why they do that.”
I blow out a breath. How did I end up being the guy friend again? This is hard work, not crossing the line. I keep it simple, stick to the facts. “You’re a pretty girl—”
“Woman.”
“You’re a pretty woman who’s sitting alone, so they think you’re single. They’re hoping to be with you.”
She shakes her head. “But it’s the library. Duh! Obviously I’m there to study.”
“That’s why they’re asking you out for later. Most people go out on the weekends.”
“Most people aren’t aiming for Harvard Medical School. Besides, my physical needs were already met. What else do I need a guy for?”
“Nothing.” I agree with her there. What else is there, unless you want to get into deep committed territory?
She smiles widely, and my heart thumps harder. She’s irresistible when she’s smiling. And when she’s not.
Ah, hell. I need to get out of here. But I feel responsible for her now. I didn’t think she’d get drunk just from one drink. Of course, I didn’t know she’d skipped dinner either. I can’t leave a drunk woman loose in the casino. She might do something she regrets later. As soon as she’s done her second drink (and no more than that, I’m putting my foot down), and eats her fill of nachos, I’ll see her safely back to her room. And that is that.
Hopefully, she’ll get a hangover and decide it’s not worth torturing a guy like this ever again.
5
Chloe
Brendan is being so-o-o gross. I’m glad I didn’t grow up with brothers. He’s got cheese string from the nachos caught on his chin beard. I’d tell him about it, but he doesn’t need to look any hotter, thank you very much. I like having fruity alcohol drinks with him. I’m a wee bit tipsy, but it’s okay. Brendan is being sensible enough for the both of us.
The nachos are delicious, and I devour more than my share. I take my time with my second drink, wanting it to last. No way I’m going for three drinks. Brendan said so. He’s the expert. I also drank a big glass of water. I’ll probably have to pee at three a.m.
“So what made you want to cure cancer?” he asks.
I chew and swallow. “It’s the scourge of our existence, and I want to help humanity. The whole world.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Dedicating my life to it.”
“Did someone close to you suffer from it?”
“No. My parents were hit by a drunk truck driver when they were walking on the sidewalk.” I turn at his silence. Oh no, not that, anything but that. He’s looking at me with sympathy in his eyes. I put my hand over his eyes.
He smiles and, dammit, he still looks gorgeous. “What don’t you want me to see?”
“I don’t wanna see you, Brendan-bo-bendan.” I drop my hand and pull the cheese string out of his beard and hand it to him. He pops it in his mouth. “Eww, boys are gross.”
“Men.”
I laugh. “Men are gross.”
“I’m very well trained. I always put the toilet seat down.”
“Your mother raised you right.”
/> “She did, but my dad is also a real stickler for manners and etiquette since he was raised here to be king. Seriously, though, what makes you so focused on being a cancer researcher? There’s other ways to help humanity.”
I go for the last nacho and hold it aloft for a moment, surprised he let me take it. “My high school had a science research course. I was matched up with a professional mentor involved in cancer research. It piqued my interest and, the more I read about it, the more I knew it was what I wanted to do. It’s my purpose in life.” I shove the nacho in my mouth whole and chew, closing my eyes as the lobster, cheese, and salty chip flavors melt in my mouth. Fantastic.
I open my eyes to find him staring at me. “Sorry, did you want the last nacho?”
He laughs. “Little late to ask.”
“We could get another order.”
“I’m fine. It’s cool what you’re doing with your life.”
I nod. “I’m pretty excited about CRISPR research in particular. Have you heard of it? It’s editing actual genes. They’re working on using a patient’s own immune system to fight cancer.”
“Haven’t heard of it. Tell me more.”
So I do. I can talk biomedical stuff for hours. And he actually seems interested and is following along, asking thoughtful questions. I’ve never had anyone in my life listen to me about my passion so well, except for Sara.
We talk for hours, until the bar closes. I’m not so tipsy anymore after sitting here for so long. Brendan told me about his family’s construction and real estate development business back in Brooklyn. I grew up in Brooklyn, so we talked about that for a bit too, arguing good-naturedly over the best places to go for pizza, bagels, and almost any country’s food you could possibly want. Brooklyn’s neighborhoods are a melting pot of nationalities. He grew up in a much nicer neighborhood than I did. Sara did the best she could for me with her two jobs and a piddly monthly check from our uncle after he abandoned us for Nashville dreams. He never did make it big. Serves him right. Not that I’m bitter.
“I’ll call for a car,” he says, pulling out his phone.
They’re probably still playing poker upstairs, but the bar closes to give the bartender a break when it’s slow like this.
He tucks his phone in his pocket. “You want to wait outside or in here?”
“Let’s go outside.”
We grab our coats and make our way to the exit. Brendan is quiet now and seems kind of serious. I’m suddenly swamped with concern that I talked too much.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Did I talk too much about my research?”
He shakes his head, giving me a small smile. “Not at all.”
I bite my lower lip. I definitely talked too much. I think I bored him silly. Way to show him a good time, Chloe. Talking his ear off about your own interests. I should’ve asked him more about himself.
He opens one of the glass front doors for me and I step out into the crisp night air. The stars are brilliant in a dark sky, the moon glowing almost full. I wait for him to join me. I’m about to ask what he likes best about his work when he surprises me.
“I’m so impressed by you, Chloe. You’re going to make your mark and help so many people. It’s…you’re extraordinary.”
My cheeks flush at the compliment and I look down, embarrassed. “I’m nothing special. There’s lots of people doing this kind of work.”
He tips my chin up. “You’re heroic in your noble cause.”
My breath stalls, my heart racing. “Thank you.”
He drops his hold and turns away. I’m surprised at how disappointed I am.
“What do you like about your work?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s not the same as yours, I’ll tell you that. I was born into the family business. I never even considered doing something different.”
“Do you not like it?”
“No, I do. I like working with my brothers and the crew. I can’t complain.”
“What do you like best about it?”
“I like working with tools. More recently, I scout out properties for development.”
“That’s cool too. People always need someplace to live and work.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, I guess.”
Shit. I thought we were having a fun night, but now he seems down because he thinks my work is important and maybe his isn’t.
“Everyone does what they’re good at,” I say. “I’d be shit trying to use a drill or whatever it is you do with pipes, and I’d be too scared to touch a wire.”
He chuckles. “You’re sweet, but there’s lots of people who could do my job.”
“Mine too.”
He shakes his head in disbelief.
“It’s true! No one works in a vacuum. There’s a global scientific community out there just like there’s a global construction workforce. The world needs all kinds of people in all kinds of jobs.”
He grins. “Just when I was thinking you weren’t a fiery redhead, you show me some spirit.”
I stare at him, trying for a comeback and coming up short. I’m blond and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s so hung up on redheads. Maybe an ex?
Our car pulls up, a silver Mercedes, and the driver gets out, opening the back door for us. “Thank you, Eli,” I say. I’ve been here enough to know the drivers.
“You’re welcome,” he says warmly.
Once we’re settled in the backseat, Brendan seems to perk up. “I guess you’ll be studying some more tonight, eh?” He’s teasing me again. I want to prove him wrong. I can have fun for an extended period. Or at least two days of my three-week winter break.
“Nope. Not tonight.”
“No?” he asks with a smile in his voice. “But, Chloe, it’s past midnight. Don’t you turn into a pumpkin?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
“It’s kinda fun to hear you live up to your hair.”
I grab the ends of my shoulder-length hair and toss it in the air. “What is it with you and redheads?”
He claws at the air. “They’re passionate.”
“I can be passionate. Sex is just biology and completely natural. I have zero hangups or inhibitions about it.” Fact.
“Are you still drunk?” His voice sounds strangled.
“No, it seems to have worn off. I had fun tonight. Will you be around tomorrow?”
He stares straight ahead. “I leave early tomorrow morning.”
Oh. I guess this is goodbye.
Dammit. I don’t want the fun to end.
I study his profile. His jaw is tense, but then I get distracted by his sensual lips. I’m itching to touch his short beard. Soft or coarse? What would it feel like rubbing against me? I’ve never kissed a man with a beard.
Brendan’s earlier words come back to me: that would be like kissing my cousin. So wrong.
I turn away, looking out the window. I need to stop lusting for him. Tonight he acted more like an overprotective big brother than a guy who’s lusting for me.
We drive the rest of the way in silence, but it’s a thick silence, almost like a question hanging in the air—will the fun continue? Or maybe that’s just me. I’m not ready for our time together to end.
Once we’re inside the palace, we head for the stairs leading to our rooms, still quiet. I catch him looking at me a few times, probably because I’m sneaking peeks at him.
We reach his room first. He stops in front of his door. “I’d offer to walk you to your room, but you said you could make it there on your own. Before, I mean.”
I search his features, his thick lashes framing the bluest of blue eyes. There’s a scar by his right eyebrow, a thin line. The only visible imperfection. I suddenly want to rip his clothes off and check him over for more. Oh my God. Cool it.
Then again, he’s leaving tomorrow morning, and I’ll never have to see him again.
No. We said we were doing the friend thing. It’s just that h
e’s so hot and he’s making me hot.
“Goodnight, Chloe. See ya around Villroy.”
I rub the side of my neck. “Yeah. See ya.” I take a step back, even though everything in me wants to get closer.
Screw this.
I close the distance, grab his head, and kiss him.
He’s not kissing me back. At all.
I let him go, my face flaming. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, grabbing the doorknob behind him and opening the door. “’Night.”
And then he’s gone.
I cover my face with my hands, so mortified I can’t even move. What’s wrong with me?
I drop my hands and stare off in the distance. Geez, he was a good friend to me when I needed one. Didn’t I learn my lesson with Michael? Friends with benefits ruins friendships.
I hurry down the hall to my room. I can only hope I don’t have to see him again until next Christmas. I’ll stay glued to Sara’s side the entire visit. I can’t bear to face him again one-on-one. Hopefully, a year will be enough time for him to forget all about that unwanted kiss.
6
Six months later…
Brendan
I don’t like living alone as much as I thought I would. My whole life I’ve lived with one brother or another. My current roommate, Beast, is house-sitting for our older brother Sean and his actress wife, Josie, while they’re off in Vancouver for a movie she’s in. Some kind of mystery, where she plays one of the suspects. That’s all she can share. Anyway, I can’t blame Beast for taking them up on their offer to house-sit. They live in a ritzy brownstone in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn. They even have a theater room with a huge screen that drops down from the ceiling by remote control. So it’s just me on a Saturday afternoon, watching TV and trying not to dwell on the fact that I’m solo.
My mind drifts to Chloe, as it often does in a moment of quiet. Okay, I’m man enough to admit it, I haven’t had as much fun with a woman since Christmas in Villroy with her. There. I said it. (In my head. No one needs to know that embarrassing shit.) I don’t know why she lingers in my mind, considering how different we are. I mean, yeah, she’s damn nice to look at and I admire her brains too. The great thing about a smart woman is you can count on her to have a rational, thoughtful take on things, instead of a big uncomfortable emotional outburst. She’d never throw a pointy stiletto at my head while she bawls her eyes out over me like some women. Mallory.
Rogue Devil Page 5