Chapter 6
WREN
“I’m meeting friends at the library.”
Finally… I finally dig up some words from my hindbrain.
“That’s lucky. I’m on my way over there.” He gestures with his chin in the direction I’d been going in the first place. “Shall we then?”
“What?”
His brows knit together. “I’m walking with you to the library?” As he says it, he jerks his head and starts to move, taking the umbrella with him.
That has me scurrying to fall into step at his side. “That’s a lie. You’re not going to the library.” Rain continues to fall all around us, the drift of damp swirls against my lips even though I’m now staying perfectly dry thanks to his help.
“This direction is me, also.”
“Unless you’re a mature student…” I arch an eyebrow, to which he fights a knowing smirk at the clear and obvious fact presented.
We both know that he’s much too old to qualify as the average college student.
“You do not have a class or any reason to be in the library. Your train—I mean, the closest gym is in the other direction.” Forming words is a bit of a tangle, only managing to catch myself at the last second before giving the game away.
Nearly admitting right then and there that I know where the pro rugby players’ headquarters are for training.
Which in turn would reveal that I do, in fact, know exactly who this man is.
“Who says I’m going to the gym?” Connor wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“You’re dressed like…” With a gloved hand, I gesture vaguely at his sweats and gym bag slung across his chest. God, gray sweatpants? Is he trying to kill me? Don’t look down at the bulge at his groin situation.
“I’m dressed like…?” he counters.
“A gym rat,” I huff.
“Other activities require this kind of attire.” He chuckles.
Looking him in the eye is a stupid decision as he says those words. My body instantly heats, with no regard for the detail that it’s sheeting with icy rain beyond the sanctuary of this bubble beneath his umbrella.
Other activities. Right. Yeah. There are plenty of ways to get the blood pumping, and in this case, it obviously isn’t going to be thanks to a treadmill.
Swallowing, I let my gaze drop to the path ahead. “Oh, well, of course. It’s never too early for a campus booty call, huh?”
He goes silent as the grave, only our footsteps crunching over the gravel path for a long, drawn-out moment, before he finally replies, “That’s not the kind of person I am, lass.”
Something in that hints at a sweetness underlying the confident, bold exterior.
Damn it. Now I feel bad.
“So, this is your regulation getaway outfit, I take it. You spend your free time lurking, ready to steal drinks from unsuspecting café-goers and run? A café cat burglar by day?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
He chuckles. “Call that specific scenario a very unique coincidence. I often use a fake name, too.”
“Two Bambis walk into a bar…” I try to hide my smile in the collar of my coat.
“Something like that.”
We walk on in silence for the next part. Drawing nearer to the grand stonework facade of the library. It’s a beautiful old building, straight out of a period movie.
“So, for the next time we bump into each other, what’s your real name?” he murmurs as we reach the wide steps leading to the front doors. Even though there’s no one else around, he keeps his voice soft.
“The next time?” My teeth catch my bottom lip. It’s a terrible idea to tell him a detail like that, and yet I suddenly can’t think of a reason not to.
“Well, from the looks of it, we’re likely to end up running into each other and possibly poaching one another’s to-go orders if the Acorn is your local.”
My heart does a little skitter thinking about the probability of seeing him there more regularly.
“C’mon, I don’t bite.” We reach the top of the steps, and he stands there looking down at me with a glimmer in his ocean-blue eyes. “Unless asked politely.”
If I perfume right now, I think I might die. The heat between my thighs continues to blossom, my skin tingles, and I have to swiftly bite the inside of my cheek to keep those sorts of visceral reactions locked down.
“For what it’s worth, because I know you’re dying to ask… I’m Connor.” He sticks out a big paw, a hand like a dinner plate, that will undoubtedly swallow mine with ease. The size of his palm would be enough to span my entire thigh.
A detail I should absolutely not be noticing or appreciating.
“Bambi.” I tilt my head to one side and give his hand the briefest of shakes. He tries to squeeze tight and hold on, but I slip my gloved hand away before I end up saying something I’ll regret.
“You’re cute when you lie.” He smirks. “Maybe I’ll have to make it my mission to escort you around until you tell me.”
“I don’t need a shadow, big guy.”
“Just the services of his umbrella, perhaps.” The wink he flashes should be criminal. I hate the fact that I’m immediately swooning on the inside. One flicker of that mischievous glint in his expression does unspeakable things to my body.
I’m no better than a popsicle facing down the midday sun in the height of summer.
“No services required, thanks.” As soon as I say it, the wave of embarrassment hits. Did I just tell him inadvertently that I haven’t gone through a heat yet? Or is he going to read into that that I do currently have heats and choose to have them serviced at a clinic?
Oh god. I really need to cut this conversation off at the knees.
There is no way I should still be standing here.
I’m not gonna be one of those rugby lurkers, no better than a puck bunny at an ice rink.
No matter how easy it feels to get on with this man, and damn it, he’s actually charming to boot.
Connor Renfro isn’t the playboy idiot with barely two brain cells to rub together that I initially assumed him to be.
He clears his throat. “Are you a rugby fan by any chance?” There’s that hint again of something sweet and slightly vulnerable hanging around just below the surface. A far cry from being cocky and crowing about his accomplishments on the field, he’s almost avoiding bringing it into the conversation.
Again, another tick in the mental column of positives that I’ve accidentally started tallying in my mind.
“Rugby?” I repeat the word slowly. Trying to make it sound as if he’s speaking a foreign language. “Is that some kind of Scottish delicacy? Sheep’s testicles and mashed vegetables? Don’t you call it haggis?”
That draws another roguish smirk to crease the corners of his eyes. I like that he has laugh lines there. I like that he’s a man who can withstand all the pressures of international-level sports and be a little unserious.
And you’re not supposed to be liking him at all. So, stop it, Wren.
“Again… cute with the lying.” He circles a forefinger at my face, as I do my best to bite back a small smile. “There’s a match on this weekend. You and those friends that you’re meeting gonna go to it by any chance?”
While saying it, I see his eyes flick to the windows behind us.
When I take a glance over my shoulder, I’m ready to be swallowed whole by the ground at my feet.
Both Nikita and Gabbie are sitting right by the window, staring at the two of us from behind the glass with chins propped in their hands, batting their eyelashes.
I barely contain the squeak wanting to burst out of me, turning back to face him with heat flashing up my neck and landing squarely on my cheeks.
“If we’ve got nothing better to do. Maybe. Although I’m pretty sure this weekend I’m washing my hair.”
His blue-gray eyes dart to the window at my back again, and I hate to think what he’s seeing there that makes his smirk stretch wider. I’m so toast once I get inside.
“In case you do... I hear number fifteen is a lucky number to wear.” He leans down and says it quietly, oh so close to my ear.
I’m already shaking my head and turning on my heel to reach for the door to the library—possibly needing something solid to grab onto in order to remain upright—ready to escape whatever this is and mentally preparing myself for my feet to be put to the coals by the girls once I get inside.
“Fifty-one, did you say?” I call back over my shoulder.
“Fifteen, Bambi.” His voice drips into a low tone. One that, if I paid too close attention to, might sound a little desirous.
“See ya round, big guy.” With my heart ready to leap into my mouth, I disappear into the hush of the library. Daring one last look over my shoulder as I pull my gloves off.
Connor Renfro is still standing there, looking right at me.