Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
brIAN
Gabe
Hey man, is Liv still at Fireside? I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer.
Glancing towards the back of the bar, I see Liv bent over her laptop where she’s been for the last two hours.
Her eyes are glued to the screen, her chestnut hair piled on top of her head, and she’s tapping a pen to her lips, drawing my gaze directly there.
All the blood in my body rushes directly to my cock as I think about the many things I’d like to do to that mouth. That I’d like that mouth to do to me.
I need to get a fucking grip.
It’s been three years since the first time I laid eyes on her, and she still has the power to bring me to my metaphorical knees.
I’m pretty sure she thinks of me as one of her brother’s irritatingly overprotective friends, and I long ago tried to put her in the never going to happen column, but my heart just doesn’t seem to care.
It’s completely crazy and, like, ridiculous, romance novel shit to say my heart reaches out to her, but that’s the way it feels.
And there’s been a little ache in the time since she told me she’s leaving for six months.
It's not forever, but the thought of going that long without seeing her dropping into the bar or hanging around Gabe’s house when I’m over there has my traitorous heart throbbing in my chest.
Tearing my gaze away from Liv, I type out a response to Gabe.
Me
Yeah, she stayed here to work after Jeremy left. Why?
Gabe
Have you looked outside?
My gaze immediately drifts to the front window, and holy fucking shit. The few inches of snow we were supposed to get tonight seems to have turned into a veritable blizzard.
Me
So much for 2-4 inches, I guess.
Gabe
They’re saying it’ll be more like 18 by the time this is all over. I don’t want her driving in this. Can she crash at the loft tonight until the roads are clear?
I wince a little at the way Gabe is going all father-figure over Liv, like she’s not twenty-five years old and capable of making her own plans.
I know how much she would hate that even as I consider how much I like the idea of her sleeping in the guest room right downstairs from me.
Being alone with her. At night. In a snowstorm.
Get your brain out of the gutter, dude.
Me
I’ll ask her. She’s welcome to stay.
Gabe
Thanks, Bry. We gaming this weekend?
I smile, thinking of my gaming nights with Gabe.
Out of all of our friends, we’re the only ones who like video games, so we made it a kind of weekly tradition on Sunday nights.
Director of Football Operations for an NFL team means that, during the season, I’m running around from before the sun rises until well after it sets on Sundays, and hanging with Gabe has been my favorite way to unwind at the end of those very long days.
Just two former founders nerding out over Fortnite like we’re eighteen again.
And if Olivia happens to stop by to see Gabe’s kids while I’m there?
Well, on those nights I feel like I’ve won the lottery.
Me
You know it.
Gabe
Awesome, see you then. And thanks again.
Me
No thanks necessary, seriously.
I have the thought that I should be thanking him as I slip my phone into my pocket and consider how to approach this with Olivia. She can be prickly when she thinks someone is trying to make decisions for her, and I really don’t want her to think of me as one of the people who do that.
I want her to think of me as more.
I always have.
Even if my best friend would probably hate me for it.
Shaking off the thought, I tell the assistant manager to send everyone home early and close up, then walk over to Liv’s table.
I slide into the chair across the table from her, smiling a little when she doesn’t react, entirely lost in whatever’s on her screen.
“Am I remembering right that snowstorms are your favorite?”
Liv’s head jerks up, and she lets out a breath when she sees it’s me. “Sorry,” she says a little sheepishly. “My head was somewhere else. What did you say?”
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table, ignoring the little thump in my chest I always get when she looks at me. “What were you working on?”
She shrugs, closing her laptop and leaning back.
“It started as the menu for the Kids Play gala in a couple of weeks, but then it devolved into packing lists for Italy, finalizing stuff for the flat I’m renting, and the million other details that suddenly become necessary when you’re spending six months abroad. But did you ask me a question?”
I swallow down the urge to beg her not to go like a freaking weirdo and focus on tonight. “I asked if snowstorms are still your favorite. I remember a couple of winters ago when you first moved to Pittsburgh, you laid in Gabe’s backyard like a lunatic for an hour the first time it snowed.”
She beams at me, her entire face lighting up, and I have to stop myself from rubbing a hand over my chest because Jesus, that smile.
“Yes! I think it’s because I lived in San Francisco for my first eighteen years where the weather pretty much never changes.
I’ve been east for seven years, but the novelty of snow still hasn’t worn off.
” She leans back in her chair, rolling her head from side to side like her neck is stiff from sitting hunched over for the last couple of hours, flashing me that grin again.
“I don’t think it ever will. I still like to lay in the backyard like a lunatic when it snows. ”
“Same. Even though I grew up in Maryland where it snows at least once a year, I still love it. Come on,” I say, holding out a hand to her.
She eyes my hand warily. “Come on where?”
I tip my head to the back of the bar and the stairs up to the loft. “I want to show you something.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s trying to figure me out, then shrugs, putting her hand in mine.
The second our palms slide together, a buzz of electricity hums from the place our skin touches.
I curl my hand around hers and look up at her.
She eyes me consideringly, a question in her gaze that makes me sure she felt the same thing I did, and I don’t hate that at all. “Okay, lead the way, mystery man.”
I snort as I lead her towards the back and up the stairs, her hand still in mine. “Mystery man?”
“Felt right. You’re being all mysterious right now, and you’ve got that tall, dark, and broody thing going for you.”
I smile at that, pushing open the door to the loft, and Olivia immediately gasps, dropping her bag and making a beeline for the floor to ceiling windows that line that back wall.
“Oh my god, look at that!” With her face practically pressed to the glass, she stares outside at the snow falling in thick flakes.
Leaving the lights off so the glare doesn’t ruin her view, I stride over to the windows and stand next to her, glancing down at her face as she watches the snow blanket Carson Street. “Isn’t it great?”
Her soft smile has my heart squeezing in my chest. With the falling snow reflected in her forest green eyes, an excited flush on her face, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. “It’s gorgeous. I thought we were only supposed to get a couple inches. That looks like way more.”
A piece of hair falls from her bun, and I can’t resist the urge to reach up and run the silky strand through my fingers, tucking it behind her ear and skimming my fingers down her jaw.
Her quiet little gasp makes me unreasonably happy.
Dropping my hand, I shrug. “Looks like it’s going to be at least a foot. Maybe more.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I guess I better go then.”
I feel a glow of victory at the uncertainty in her voice.
I happen to know that she learned to drive in California and then didn’t have a car for the four years she was in D.C.
, which means she’s only been driving in the snow for three years and likely isn’t the most comfortable with it.
“You don’t have to. There are three guest rooms in this loft.
” I wave a hand towards the hallway leading to the extra bedrooms. “Pick whichever one you want and crash here. You can drive home tomorrow once the roads are clear.”
She looks at me with relief and uncertainty warring in her eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way.”
Please, please get in my way.
“Of course I’m sure. My bedroom is upstairs, so literally no one ever uses the ones down here. No use digging your car out of the snow now when they’re all just sitting there unused.”
Before Olivia can answer, her phone chimes and she tugs it out of her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she rolls her eyes. “Get a hobby, Gabe,” she mutters, unlocking her phone and typing out a message.
“Everything okay?” I ask, even though I’m like ninety-nine percent sure her brother is texting to make sure she’s not out driving in the snow.
Huffing out a breath, she slides the phone back into her pocket.
“It’s fine. Gabe was worried I was out in this, like I would be dumb enough to attempt driving in a foot of snow.
I swear, sometimes he forgets I’m not fifteen anymore.
Anyway, I told him I’m crashing here for the night so he would leave me alone, so I guess you’re stuck with me now. ”
I shrug again, trying to be casual, but there is nothing casual about the way my heart slams against my chest. I suddenly feel like this night is what I’ve been waiting for for three years.
Like every You can’t have her and She’s perfect and She’s too young and She’s gorgeous and Gabe would murder me and She was made for me thought has all been leading me here, to this quiet moment standing in front of the window and watching the snow with the girl of my dreams. “Happy to be stuck with you. I’ll even make hot chocolate. The real kind.”
Olivia gasps, pressing her hands to her chest, and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. “Like, with real chocolate and everything?”
I scoff. “Like there’s any other way to make hot chocolate. Stick with me, Liv. You’ll never have bad hot chocolate ever again.”
Olivia turns to face me, smile lighting her face.
“I think I may do just that.” With my gaze locked on hers, I try and smile back, but with her words hanging in the air between us, I can’t quite get there.
I know she didn’t mean them in any way other than playful, but my traitorous brain hasn’t gotten the memo.
With our eyes still tangled together, the air grows heavy with anticipation and a kind of knowing that wraps itself around us, tugging us closer.
Olivia’s smile vanishes, her chest rising and falling as the space between us slowly disappears.
Her eyes darken with an emotion that has my stomach tightening with need, and a shiver works its way down my spine as I imagine what it will feel like to finally have her lips on mine.
The ding of Olivia’s phone shatters the moment and she jerks back, face flushed and eyes wide, staring at me as she yanks the phone out of her pocket.
Breaking eye contact, she takes a long, slow breath as she looks down at her phone, and I take one of my own, trying to get my shit together and my racing heart under control.
“Fucking brothers,” she mutters, clicking off the phone and shoving it in her pocket, finally raising her eyes back to mine. When she speaks, her voice is far steadier than I feel. “Any chance you have a sweatshirt or something I can borrow? Sleeping in jeans is the seventh layer of hell.”
My eyes involuntarily drop down, taking in the jeans that look like they’re practically painted on and the deep green sweater that skims over tits I want to cup in my hands and curves I want to run my fingers over.
Then I get a flash of what she would look like in my clothes.
Yeah, I definitely have a sweatshirt or something she can borrow.
“Sure, I’ll grab one. Just a sec.”
Jogging up the steps to my room, I rummage through my drawers, grateful for the few minutes alone.
Kissing Olivia is all I want, and from the way she reacted, I think she might want it too, even if maybe she doesn’t quite understand.
The thought makes me unreasonably happy and has me settling the rest of the way down.
That might not have been our moment, but our moment is coming. I know it for sure.
Back downstairs, I hand Olivia a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, and while she goes to change, I start the hot chocolate.
Ten minutes later, she comes back into the kitchen, and I swallow hard at the way she looks in my clothes.
The hoodie hangs almost to her knees, and the sweatpants bag around her hips, covering her feet as she walks.
She looks cozy and comfortable, and I want to wrap my arms around her and sink right into her warmth.
Mine.
“Wow, when you said you make hot chocolate from scratch, you weren’t kidding,” she says, surveying the ingredients lined up on the counter.
I grin at her. “I absolutely was not kidding. Hot chocolate from scratch or not at all, Liv.”
She studies me, sliding into one of the barstools and resting her elbows on the island, propping her chin in her hands. “You have a really nice smile, Bry. You should use it more.”
Her use of my nickname does something to me, and I can’t help but think that all of this feels so wildly right.
Her in my clothes, in my kitchen, sitting with me as I cook and the snow falls outside.
It’s been a long time since anything in my life felt this good, and it makes me want to hold onto this moment for as long as I can.
Leaning on the other side of the island, I reach out, running a finger over Olivia’s hand, smiling inwardly as her breath hitches, and I decide to take a chance.
“You make me want to smile all the time.”
Olivia’s flushed face and the way her eyes flash at my words have a sense of rightness settling over me, and as we talk, drink hot chocolate together, and stare out at the still-falling snow, I think that no night has ever been as perfect as this.