Chapter 5
FIVE
What are you doing, Millie?
Seriously—what the hell are you doing?
I don’t know.
All I know is that thirty seconds ago, I had every intention of slamming the door in Dean’s face and now I’m moving out of the way and inviting him in. Holding my breath while he brushes past me, his bicep grazing my shoulder as he moves into the room.
His very hard, very muscular, tattooed bicep.
Sitting at the bar, talking to him earlier, I don’t think I realized just how much bigger than me he actually is.
Turning to watch after him, I contemplate leaving the door open.
It would be the smart thing to do. Safest. Most practical.
I don’t know this man or what his real intentions are.
All I know is the name he gave me, which sounds completely fake, and the fact that he’s willing to take his shirt off and flirt with my sister’s bridesmaids for money.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
“You can leave the door open if you want,” he says without looking at me while he wanders around the room. “It won’t offend me.”
Standing here, hand re-anchored to the knob, I hear the shrieks and splashes coming from the pool area.
One of them will come looking for him eventually and make some snide comment about how he’s wasting his time.
How I’m not worth the effort. How I don’t know how to be spontaneous. Live in the moment.
Closing the door, I stare at the wide, heavy plank of it for a moment. Take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
Talk.
All he wants to do is talk.
You know how to talk. Been doing it most of your life. You can do that. You can talk to him, Millie. He’s just a man.
Turning back around, I find him across the room, studying the painting hanging over the sofa in the sitting area.
“It’s called Summertime with MollyMae,” I tell him, taking a nervous sip of wine while mentally pushing myself to move.
“My mother loves art—she’s fanatical about finding new artists.
Cari Gilroy is her current obsession.” Finally moving my feet, I make my way toward him. “She lives in—”
“Boston.” He gives me a quick, over the shoulder smile.
My face must fall into a how would you know sort of expression because he chuckles a little under his breath.
“I met her when I tended bar for the Gilroy-Halston-Day wedding, last year. The governor was there.” The smile goes wicked around its edges. “I even got to keep my shirt on.”
Embarrassed by my cousin’s behavior, I let the breath I’m holding out on a panicky laugh. “I’m sorry...” Shaking my head, I lower myself onto the sofa, tucking myself into its corner. “Paige can be awful.”
He gives me a shrug before turning back to the painting he’s studying. “Paige is typical.”
Because I don’t know what that means, I don’t respond. Just take another gulp from the wine in my glass and pray it makes me brave.
Talk.
All he wants to do is talk.
You know how to talk.
You can do it.
“I was there,” I blurt out. When he gives me a puzzled look, I shake my head.
“At the Gilroy-Halston-Day wedding. I went to high school with Henley after she and her mother moved to New York.” I’m rambling.
Jesus, help me, I’m rambling and I can’t stop.
“Her step-father and my father are close. They were in Skull and Bones together at Yale. We were invited to her wedding, so I was there—” You already said that Millie.
Just stop talking. Praying that I bite off my own tongue, I shake my head.
“Not that you’d remember me or anything. ”
The puzzled look melts away from his face while he makes a faint noise in the back of his throat. “If I met you, Princess, I’d definitely remember.”
Oh boy.
Change the subject, Millie, before you pass out altogether.
“Are you from Boston?”
“Yeah.” Hands dug into his pockets, Dean nods his head on an indifferent shrug. “Grew up in Fenway.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I swallow hard and look away. “Uhhh… so, do you like being a bartender?”
He gives me another indifferent shrug. “I like being able to pay rent and eat.”
I let out a slow, steady breath before taking another sip of wine.
This isn’t going the way I imagined. I mean, I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
I can’t be 100% certain but I think he was flirting with me no more than five minutes ago and now he’s acting like I’m holding him hostage.
Sure he’s bored and changed his mind about wanting to be here, I look at him and nearly swallow my own tongue.
This would be so much easier if he wasn’t so good-looking.
“Look—”
When I say it, he turns to aim his gaze in my direction. “Dean.”
“Okay...” Fighting off a wave of embarrassment, I set my half empty glass on the coffee table in front of me before looking up at him again. “Dean—”
“Why did you shut the door?”
His question catches me off guard. Has me shifting my gaze to look at it across the room. “I...” Shaking my head, I force myself to look back at him. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Yes, you do, Emily,” he gives me that smirk again.
The one that says he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Exactly why I shut the door, even if I don’t.
“I told you that you could keep the door open if you wanted to—that it wouldn’t offend me.
You were clearly debating the safety of closing it with me inside but you did it anyway. Why?”
“My name isn’t Emily,” I tell him, my forehead crumpling while my neck begins to ache. “Will you sit down? Please—my neck is starting to cramp.”
His expression softens. “Sorry.” Pulling his hands out of his pants pockets, he lowers himself onto the couch next to me. “Better?”
“Yes.” I give him a prim nod. “Thank you.”
He waits a beat before tilting his head slightly to the side. “Answer the question. Why did you shut the door?”
I briefly consider lying but honestly, any lie I could come up with is just as embarrassing as the truth.
“Because sooner or later, Paige or Gwen, or one of her friends is going to come looking for you and when they do, they’ll see you in here—with me—and laugh.”
Dean scowls at me. “Why would they laugh?”
“You heard them,” I say, suddenly frustrated and more embarrassed than I can possibly stand. “Because I’m uptight—allergic to fun.”
“Yeah...” Giving me a nod, he reaches for my wine glass and drains it. “I heard that. I didn’t know you did.”
I didn’t but I know my sister. I know what she thinks.
The sorts of things she says about me when I’m not around.
The only reason I’m her maid of honor is because I’m obsessively organized and detail-orientated.
With me at the helm, there was no reason to hire an event coordinator.
Never mind that I just started working at our father’s investment firm, full time.
Millie doesn’t have a life. She’ll plan my wedding.
She was right.
I don’t have a life and I did plan her wedding.
Setting it down, Dean sits back, studying me the way he did the painting. “Is that why you were crying when you opened the door?”
“I wasn’t—” Feeling like I’ve been caught with my pants down, I look away from him. The sting of tears for the second time tonight, burning their way through my sinuses, I shake my head. “I thought we were going to finish our conversation.”
“We can do that,” he answers me quietly, the shape of him moving closer in my peripheral. “Or... you can let me kiss you.”
When he says it, my lungs seize up and my vision starts to swim. “You want to kiss me?” Cheeks stained red, I look at the man sitting next to me. “Why would you want to kiss me?”
He looks at me like he doesn’t understand the question.
“Because you feel sorry for me?” I answer my own question, temper and embarrassment mount in equal measure.
“Because I’m stick in the mud Millie and you feel like doing your good deed for the day?
” Looking at the door I just closed, I feel a flutter of panic in my belly.
“Did they put you up to this? Is that why you’re here? Because—”
“No.” If I offended him, Dean doesn’t show it. “I’m here because I want to be and I asked to kiss you because—”
“You don’t want to kiss me,” I scoff. I don’t know anything about this man but I know that much. “You just—”
Before I can finish, Dean leans forward, lifting his hand from his lap to wrap it around the back of my neck. “I think the only thing you’re allergic to is answering my questions, Camilla.”
“That’s not my name.” Heart pounding in my throat, I shake my head, helpless to stop my gaze from dropping to his mouth.
As soon as it touches his lips, he makes that noise in the back of his throat again.
Bouncing my gaze back up to meet his, I shake my head against his grip.
“And you haven’t actually asked me a question. ”
Afraid.
I should be afraid.
But I’m not.
When I say it, the corner of Dean’s mouth tips up in a smirk. “May I kiss you, Millie?”
No.
It’s what I should say, but not what comes out of my mouth. “Because you feel sorry for me.”
“No…” Something flickers across his face. A jumble of thoughts and feelings that move too quickly for me to read. Closing the space between us, he brings his mouth to within a breath of mine. “Because I want to.”
Tell him no.
You’re seeing someone.
You’re seeing Allister.
But... are you? It’s only been a few dates, and he hasn’t asked to kiss you. He hasn’t even tried.
Letting my gaze drop back to his mouth, I nod my head before I can talk myself out of it. Talk myself out of doing something reckless and impulsive. Something beyond my control. Something for me. Just me.
“Yes.”
The moment I say it, my eyes slip closed and my breath flutters in my throat, my heart hammering against the base of it.
The heat of his mouth hovers above mine for just a moment before I feel the soft, lazy trace of his tongue along the edge of my lower lip, the sweep of it tilting me in my seat.
Making me dizzy. Glad I’m not standing when my knees start to shake with anticipation because I know the instant I feel it that I don’t just want him to kiss me.
I want everything.
Everything this man is willing to give me and he won’t have to ask.
I’ll beg for it if I have to.
Dean makes that noise in the back of his throat again. A sound that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Exactly what I want and what I’m willing to do to get it.
“Mill—”
The sound of my name is cut off by a loud knock, the sudden intrusion of it jerking me back in my seat and flooding my cheeks with color. For a second, all we do is sit here and stare at each other.
Another knock—this one louder and sharper than the first. “Millie, It’s not even midnight,” Paige’s voice calls out to me, muffled by the thick wooden door.
“You better not be sleeping.” Her tone makes it clear that she’s prepared to drag me out of bed if she has to.
The thought of it reminds me that while I shut the door, I didn’t lock it.
Shit.
Jumping up from my seat, I rush across the room. Practically throwing myself at the door before she has a chance to open it, I grab the knob and hold it, not at all surprised when I feel it start to twist in my grip. “What do you want, Paige?”
She laughs. “I want you to stop hiding and get your uptight ass out here and have some fun before you throw your life away on Mr. Boring Banker Guy.”
Tossing a quick look over my shoulder, I find Dean where I left him.
Still sitting on the couch. Easing himself away from the edge of it, he sits back.
Sinks back into the cushions with another of his unreadable expressions.
Whatever he’s thinking, one thing is clear.
He heard what she just said, and he’s not happy about it.
I’ll explain.
As soon as I get rid of Paige, I’ll explain.
Yes, I’m casually dating someone but we’ve only been out a few times. He’s never even kissed me. It’s not nearly as serious as Paige is making it sound.
Turning the knob, I ease it open just a crack, wedging my foot behind it in case she tries to bulldoze her way through it. “I’m done for the night,” I tell her firmly. “Gwen made it clear she doesn’t—”
Before I finish my refusal, Paige’s gaze shoots up and away from mine, a second before I feel a hand graze past my cheek to wrap around the edge of the door, pulling it open all the way.
“Breaks over, I guess,” Dean says, his tone laced with insolence as he moves past me while I flounder. “Back to the grind.” Stopping, he reaches up and back to hook his fingertips into the neckline of his shirt. Dragging it over his head, he laughs a little before he looks at me.
The guy who flirted with me at the bar earlier and asked to kiss me just a few minutes ago is gone—so completely gone, I’m sure he never really existed. “Make sure you finish that wine before it gets warm, Princess.”
An act.
Just an act.
I didn’t see him at Henley’s wedding, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t see me. Women like me—shy, awkward women from wealthy families—are easy targets.
You’re a Blackwell, Melisandre. You need to be careful about who you associate with. People aren’t always what they seem, especially when there’s money involved.
I’m not sure what Dean hoped to gain by pretending to be interested in me but it doesn’t really matter. Whatever it is, he’s not going to get it.
Not from me.
I close the door in Paige’s face without answering him, shutting them both out.
And this time, I lock it.