Chapter Three #2
She tucked her cell phone in her pocket, leaving her purse with her friend. Then she placed her hand in his outstretched palm as they strolled the perimeter of the restaurant/bar. “So…what made you jump in? Did I look like a sad spinster, so you decided to end my singledom for a night?”
“No. I’m a sucker for engagement parties. Can’t you tell? I saw all the white balloons with the cute pictures of the bride and groom attached and I couldn’t resist. If I’m lucky, maybe we can catch another sappy speech and drink some terrible champagne.”
She sent him a skeptical glare. “Have you ever been to an engagement party?”
“Not since my neighbor’s daughter married an alpaca farmer. I was twelve,” he admitted.
Bristol laughed, and Jesse loved hearing the light, lyrical sound. That giggle was a music all its own. “Made a big impact on you, huh?”
“The cake did. But the marriage lasted about as long as I think your sister’s will.”
“It took me longer to decorate the ‘save the date’ cookies she asked me for tonight than they’ll be married, I suspect. The wedding is next month. Mama wanted her to be a June bride. Presleigh isn’t ready to be anyone’s wife.”
“And he’s no Prince Charming.”
She nodded. “There is that.”
“Why did you date him?”
Bristol hesitated. “He found me after I broke my ankle and took me to the doctor.”
“You felt as if you owed him?” Jesse asked.
“No. I liked him—or I thought I did. But that was before I actually knew him.”
“How did you get hurt?” Even in the dimming light, he saw the flush in her cheeks, and Jesse sensed a story. “Okay, ‘fess up.”
“Well, I bought this aerobics video and I was trying it out but…”
“Your ankle snapped, did it? Were you doing some crazy athletic shit?”
She twirled a section of her hair around one finger and looked anywhere but at him. “Not exactly.”
“So…what exactly were you up to?”
Biting back a smile, she sent him a coy glance. “It was supposed to be pole dancing, but I didn’t have a pole, so I used a column in my apartment. I didn’t know it was hollow and wouldn’t hold me. I landed wrong and…it was embarrassing.”
He gave a hearty laugh. “I don’t mean to make light of your pain, but you have to admit that—”
“No, it totally sounds funny. And if anyone could have seen it, I’ll bet it would have been hysterical.”
Maybe, but he’d bet that before her fall, he’d have found her sexy as hell. “So he took you to the hospital?”
She nodded. “He also brought me roses while they set the cast. Then he filled my prescriptions and took me home. He even tried to pet my cat, Shakespurr.”
“That’s seriously what you named your cat?”
“Yeah, he’s a feline so he’s clever and creative. And just like the Bard himself, before I had Shakespurr fixed he liked older women.”
“Right.” Jesse enjoyed her sense of humor and quick wit.
He wondered how many of the women he’d taken to bed over the years he might have liked if he’d bothered to get to know them.
Maybe none. They’d been more like groupies.
Bristol seemed really different. “So you decided you liked him because he tried to pet your pussy?”
She tsked at him, hands on her hips. But the fact that she was about a foot shorter, coupled with the smile she couldn’t repress, took all the starch out of her censure.
“That’s not all. Hayden also told me that he had a crush on me in high school.”
“And you fell for him?”
Bristol heaved a long sigh. “Well, I had one on him back then, too. So…yeah. I sound like an idiot.”
Jesse didn’t like hearing her put herself down when she’d done nothing wrong. “No. You sound like a woman who trusted the wrong guy because you wanted to believe the best about him.”
“I really did.”
Now she sounded sad, and he wanted to turn her frown into another smile.
“Since you’ve been so honest, I guess I’ll tell you something true.
” He squeezed her hand. “I saw you sitting on the barstool talking to Jayla and thought you were beautiful. If you’ve once thought you’re not simply because the ex-jackass tossed you over for your younger sister, trust me.
It’s not you; it’s him. I can already tell you’re way smarter.
I also suspect you’re a better human being.
When you shined a spotlight on his deficiencies by being you, he bailed because he didn’t like the comparison. ”
She scoffed. “He’s not that deep.”
“You’re right. He not aware of that realization because he didn’t come to it consciously.
But I can almost guarantee he felt it. And he didn’t like it.
So if anything he said or did made you feel lousy, forget it.
And him. I’ve traveled all over the world and met a lot of people, women especially. You seem pretty awesome to me.”
She blushed again. “Thanks.”
“Like I said, just being honest.”
A comfortable lull fell between them, and Jesse finally scanned his surroundings.
He’d played a number of places with this vibe when he’d first started singing.
It hadn’t taken long before a random YouTube video had brought him to the attention of record producers.
Back then, he’d been too nervous to appreciate the valuable learning experience and too young to join the revelry that would probably happen here later.
Right now, a band dragged in their instruments and readied themselves for their Saturday night set.
Besides maturity and experience, the other thing that made his trip to this joint different was the fact that he held Bristol’s hand in his.
He liked the simple touch, liked knowing she was there with him.
She didn’t have any expectations that he’d find the nearest room away from his screaming public to get in her panties.
Bristol seemed perfectly content to simply be with him.
Conversely, the fact that she wasn’t squealing to sleep with the Jesse McCall really made him want her. Or was there just something about her that did it for him?
“So…since you saved me from social hell tonight, are you expecting money?”
If she only knew how much he didn’t need it. “Nope.”
“Sex?” She quirked a brow at him.
Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t turn it down, but no.”
Her smile dipped. “Are you interested in Presleigh?”
“God, no. She’s pretty in that plastic way, like a Barbie doll. Sure, she’s got a nice bod. But I’ve met a million girls like her. She’s not interesting.”
“And I am?” Bristol raised a skeptical brow.
“So far, yeah.”
“You don’t really know me,” she pointed out.
“Fair enough. But you seem real. Unlike your sister, it’s pretty clear you didn’t spend all afternoon preening in front of the mirror and dressing for attention.”
“What does that mean? Maybe I did.”
“I guess that messy ponytail with the chunk that didn’t make it up—nice scrunchie, by the way—was on purpose.
And who wants to wear a skirt so short that a stiff breeze could reveal your underwear when you could go the rumpled jeans route?
Much sexier. And that patch of flour on your neck here.
” He swept his fingers over the spot and felt her pulse jump. “Hmm, honey. It’s a turn-on.”
She gave a tsk of self-disgust and swiped at the flour, then dragged the elastic band covered in pink polka-dotted fabric from her hair.
The multi-hued brown strands bounced past her shoulders and brushed her arms, the ends a shade much closer to blond.
It wasn’t any sort of ombre dye job, simply a natural byproduct of the sun. Her tresses framed her delicate face.
“Okay, so I’m not Vogue ready.”
“But like I said, you are pretty, no matter what you’re wearing,” he told her. “You know, since I’m your boyfriend for the evening, shouldn’t I know more about you? You know, in case people ask? At least the vitals.”
“That’s a point. My mother may have paused her interrogation, but she’ll be back.
” Bristol seemed to gather her thoughts.
“I’m twenty-four, my middle name is Alexa.
My dad died when I was ten. We used to bake together when I was a kid.
I dropped out of college in my sophomore year to start a little coffeehouse in my hometown called Sweet Cinns.
Making ends meet each month is touch and go, but I love what I do. What about you?”
“I’m still trying to find myself,” he said honestly, scrambling to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t give away his identity.
“I got a GED at sixteen. I had this crazy idea, but it didn’t work out the way I thought.
So…right now, I’m seeing the country and trying to figure out where to go next.
Where’s your hometown?” He changed the subject before she could ask him for details.
“Lewisville. That’s in Arkansas, about thirty miles east. You’ve never heard of it.”
“I haven’t,” he admitted.
“It’s a tiny town, so small that we had to come here to find a restaurant big enough for the party.”
“Do you have a lot of competition in the restaurant biz there?”
“Well, Starbucks hasn’t come to town yet, so that helps.
But we also don’t have a morning rush hour.
I’d love to have cars wrapped around my building, but it isn’t equipped with a drive-thru.
No other place in town is open for breakfast or makes everything from scratch.
I don’t stay open for dinner because I can’t compete with Burge’s Pit Bar-B-Q or Scooter’s Pizza Shack. ”
He nodded as they meandered closer to the band. “Wise business decision. I’ll bet your goodies are delicious. I’d love a taste.”
His voice had gone low and husky with his rising interest. Had she heard that? Noticed it?
She raised her gaze to him, lashes fluttering flirtatiously. “Is that right? Well, my hot buns are fabulous.”
“I have no doubt they are.” He winked. When she giggled, he found himself wishing he could stay around long enough to take a bite of whatever she offered.
The collection of musicians grabbed their instruments and started playing a lively contemporary country love song with a three-four meter. It wasn’t like anything he played in his vault of songs.
“Dance with me?” he asked, stopping at the edge of the floor and drawing her closer.
“You waltz?”
Not really. “Sure.”
Mostly, he just wanted an excuse to hold her close.
She bit her lip. “I can’t guarantee your toes will survive. I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I’m decent. I’ll go easy on you. Say yes.” He skimmed a palm down her back. “Promise.”
She exhaled, her breath shaky as she scanned his face. “Okay. They’re your toes.”
“You’ll do great.”
Jesse took her hand and brought her closer.
Every one of her curves seemed to align perfectly with him, each contour fitting to his like pieces of a puzzle.
That sounded cheesy, even in his own head, but he’d never been more aware of a woman’s every dip and swell, of his heart racing simply because she stood near and their palms touched.
He wasn’t at the eighth grade formal, slow-dancing with a girl for the very first time.
He’d long ago lost track of how many women he’d fucked.
But Bristol made everything seem new again.
Were his palms actually sweating?
They fell in time to the music together, Jesse mimicking the sort of waltz his grandparents used to dance. Bristol seemed a bit stiff at first, but with every step she relaxed more into his arms.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked.
He couldn’t say that his very first manager had hired dance instructors to work with him to perfect his on-stage moves and that, more recently, he’d hired a male stripper to show him how to make his moves sexier. Instead, he opted for something he could tell her.
“My grandparents owned an Arthur Murray dance studio. I spent my summers there. When I was thirteen, I thought it would be the happening place to pick up girls, so I paid attention. I learned a lot.”
“I’ll bet you were smooth even back then.”
“I thought I was.” He sent her a self-deprecating grin. “I see the pictures now and think ‘dork in braces.’”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine it.”
“True story.”
Because he didn’t like even the small bit of distance between them, Jesse flattened his palm against her back, sliding down to the sway in her spine, bringing her petite frame and sweet curves even closer.
Usually, he didn’t have any trouble controlling his cock.
Now it had a mind of its own, and he ached to slide all of her against every inch of him too badly to care if she felt that.
When he arched into her, she gasped, then flattened herself against him.
The friction as they swayed together blew his mind.
She glanced up at him, and he curled a finger under her chin to bring her face beneath his.
He restrained himself from grabbing her ass—barely.
Public displays didn’t bother him, but that sort of thing might bug her.
And he wasn’t supposed to be drawing attention to himself.
“If you don’t want me to kiss you, say something.”
“I…I can’t.”
Jesse eased back, trying not to let the surprisingly visceral disappointment consume him. “You can’t let me kiss you?”
“No, I can’t say anything to stop you.”
The urge to press her against the nearest wall and find out exactly what sounds she made when she came nearly undid him. But he stopped.
Of course he liked sex. He fucking loved it. But this compulsion to take off Bristol’s clothes and make her scream out his name felt way beyond any normal urge.
When he cupped her face, he was surprised to see his hands shaking.
She blinked up at him. God, she was so small. Delicate. Warm. Her stare clung, her green eyes so open and earnest. She wasn’t playing a game, wasn’t merely interested in him because of who he was. She seemed to like him.
When was the last time anyone had cared about the man under the persona? He didn’t like the answer.
Now was a really crappy time to decide that he seriously liked a girl. And liked who he was around her. He should walk away; Jesse knew that. But Deke had advised him to make all the parts of his life meaningful. And Bristol Reese might be the most meaningful thing he’d felt in years.