26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Spencer
I n the middle of July, I’m working on my outline for the following day’s wedding. Our corporate client lunch is wrapping up and I’ve already sent the clean-up crews to get started.
Something has changed in the last few weeks since the Grouse Grind hike. Lis and I flirt more, sharing more quick touches and hugs. Though she still hasn’t let us cross that line that she put between us, we’ve certainly made our way closer to crossing it.
“Okay. I’ve had enough.”
I look up to see Derek settling into one of my guest chairs.
“Enough of what?”
“You. Spencer, my friend, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to my computer. “You’re such a whore. Who are you even talking about?”
“I’m talking about Lis. I hate seeing you so moony-eyed over some chick who won’t date you.”
I turn back to Derek, surprised at the sudden anger welling up in me.
“Stay out of it, Derek,” I warn, and he must get the message that he’s crossed a line, because he holds up his hands.
“I’m just trying to look out for you, man. You’re practically dating her except you have no exclusivity and you’re not sleeping with her. She could start dating someone else at any time.”
“It’s my choice. If I want to wait around until she’s ready, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt.” He holds my gaze for a moment before dropping it to the side. “I remember what it was like. I’m worried you’re going to get your heart broken.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “It’s my heart to break.”
He considers me and finally nods. “Fine. But we’re still going out tonight.”
I turn back to my computer. This part of the conversation doesn’t need my undivided attention. “I work tomorrow.”
“We have an early night tonight and a late start tomorrow. The wedding is reception-only, so we don’t have to be here until three to start setting up. And the next two weeks are going to be a gong show. We’re going out.”
I roll my eyes. He has a point, though. We’re booked solid for the next two weeks. It’s going to be all hands on deck pretty much all day every day as we get through these events.
“Fine,” I say, returning my attention to him. “Two conditions: We’re not out past midnight and we invite the others.”
“You’re going to invite Lis, aren’t you?”
“She’s part of the others now, isn’t she? If I wasn’t interested in her, would you invite her?”
“Of course I would. She’s our head chef.”
“Then invite her. Or I will.”
He chuckles as he leaves my office.
Later that night, I meet Derek and Adalie at the bar where they already have sleeves of beer, with an extra one for me.
“Vic still at the office?” Derek asks as I slide into my seat.
I nod. “What about Lis? Did she say if she was coming?”
Adalie tilts her head toward the bar. “We didn’t know what she likes, so she’s getting herself a drink.”
I ache to turn and find her. But I stop myself. Friends. We’re just friends. And the last spot at the table is the one next to me, so I’ll see her in a minute. I don’t stop myself from turning when she gets to the table, though, and I drink in the sight of her. My gaze slides up the smooth skin of her legs to the hem of a silky red dress, over curves that my hands itch to touch, to lips coated in a red lipstick that matches the dress. Her blonde and rainbow hair is caught up in a cascading ponytail. Over the last few weeks, I’ve started stealing her clip, loving the way her hair tumbles down her back when I do. The colours aren’t quite as bright as they had been at first but are still just as distracting. Tonight, there is no clip, secured with some kind of hair tie instead, and I want nothing more than to untie it so it’ll fall.
I clear my throat in order to get my voice to start working. “What did you get?”
“Mojito,” she says, taking the seat next to me.
And then I lose track of the conversation as I wonder: if I were to kiss her, would she taste like mint? I may glance down as she sits and notice the skirt of the dress riding up her thighs.
“Toasts!” Adalie says. She leans toward Lis. “When we go out, we always start with toasts. Everyone has to make one. But it can be anything. I’ll start. To new friends and old ones.” She points her beer to Lis first and then to me and Derek. Then we clink and drink.
“To random Friday nights,” Derek says.
“To beer and mojitos,” I say.
Lis turns to me with an evil smirk and my heart is pounding as I wait for her toast.
“To dancing,” she says. We finish the last round of drinking and then she turns from me to… Adalie. “Come dance with me?” she asks.
Adalie grins and the women get up and make their way to the dance floor, laughing, linking arms, and leaning close together to talk. I watch them walk away and then quickly turn back to the table.
“Son of a fucking bitch.”
“What?”
“She’s wearing those shoes.”
“What shoes?”
“The ones she wore that first night. When I took her home. Her fire engine red fuck me shoes.”
I can’t help looking at her again on the dance floor. She’s laughing at something Adalie has said. And fuck if she isn’t gorgeous. I want to be out there with her, but she asked Adalie instead, so I remain in my seat and drink my beer.
“You’re going to be pining all night, aren’t you?” Derek asks.
I turn back to him. “Self-imposed torture. I’m a masochist. Who knew?”
He lifts a hand, indicating that he’d known, but doesn’t say the words. “By the way. Isn’t that yours?”
He points to a black garment slung over the back of Lis’ chair. And he’s right. Instead of bringing a jacket, she brought my hoodie. At some point, she has completely stopped trying to return it, eventually wearing it without me telling her to. It’s been a delightful form of torture, seeing her in my clothes and not being able to take it off her.
“It might be mine,” I finally say.
“Well, it was nice knowing you, man.”
I laugh, but I also realize I’m okay with it. The longer I spend with her, the more I’m certain: Lis is the woman of my dreams and I just have to wait for her to be ready. She’ll get there.
The women return from the dance floor. We finish our drinks and order more. We laugh and tell stories. And Adalie and Lis continue to dance together, never inviting me or Derek to join them. We talk about crashing their dancing party, but neither of us do anything about it. Derek because he’s checking out our waitress. Me because I want to a little too much.
I’m maybe a little bit drunk as the night gets closer to midnight—my self-imposed curfew. Derek and I have decided we’re on our last beers when I notice a couple of guys hitting on Adalie and Lis. My blood turns hot and I’m about to get up when Derek reaches over and stops me.
“Not yet,” he says.
But we both watch. We wait to see if the women are interested. They are both technically single, after all, even if I already think of Lis as mine. They shake their heads at the men, but are still smiling, still dancing. We watch as the smiles disappear because the men aren’t taking the hint.
“Now,” I say. And this time, Derek agrees.
Without needing to discuss it, he moves toward Adalie and I stalk to Lis. She sees me coming a moment before I reach her and I scoop her against me like I’ve wanted to do since I first saw her tonight.
“Hi,” I say.
She tilts her head back so she can look up at me, her hands on my arms, a slightly dazed look in her eyes. Damn the darkness of the bar. I can’t tell if they’re blue or green right now.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hey man,” the guy who had been hitting on her says.
I send him a cold look and he takes in the way she’s plastered against me, still looking up at me like I’m a fucking knight in shining armour.
“Nevermind,” he says and turns away.
Derek hasn’t been nearly as dramatic—he only has one arm draped over her shoulders—but he’s gotten the point across to the other man as well.
“I’m taking Adalie home. You guys want to share a ride?” he asks.
I look down at Lis, the question in my eyes. She gives the tiniest shake of her head.
“We’ll stay for a little bit longer,” I tell him, and he waves and leaves the bar with Adalie.
The beat of the music slows and suddenly we’re dancing together like we did that first night. I know we’re both a little drunk. Maybe a little more drunk than I had intended to be tonight. But watching her all night has done something to my brain and I can’t seem to make it function.
I could tilt my head just a tiny bit more and I would finally know if she tastes like mint.
“Hey,” I say, “You’re not usually this tall.”
She gives me that sassy smile that I love so much. “Well, the air is so thin up here. Honestly, it’s a wonder you survive.”
I laugh, my insides melting, all defenses falling. “I—”
I clack my teeth together, physically preventing myself from saying those three words. Even drunk, I know I can’t tell her. But in the darkness of the bar, with her pressed against me like a second skin, I feel it. I’ve only known her for three months, but I’m as sure as I’ve been of anything in my life.
I am in love with Amaryllis Stone.
And instead of terrifying me, the thought excites me.
“You what?” she finally asks.
“I was starting to get jealous of Adalie,” I say, coming up with anything else I can say. “You kept asking her to dance and not me.”
She pats my cheek like I’m a cute puppy. “Poor baby. You don’t have anything to worry about, though. I’m not into women. Thought about it for a bit when Daze came out, but it’s not for me.”
“That’s a relief. You’re going to be cold going home,” I say.
“I brought a sweater. This silly man refuses to take it back from me. So I’ve decided to make use of it.” She leans closer, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a secret. “It’s the warmest thing I have.”
“You don’t own a winter coat?”
“I do. But this particular hoodie is magic.”
“Is it?”
“It has the essence of the owner sewn right into the fabric and he is the warmest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of touching. I wear that hoodie all the time now. When I’m walking home in the cold. When I’m sleeping. All. The. Time.”
An image of her sleeping in my hoodie, surrounded by me, flashes through my mind and I tighten my hold on her waist. I dip my head a fraction closer to her.
Her eyes drift closed as she waits for me to finish closing the distance. One arm stays wrapped around her waist but my other hand slides up her body, cupping the back of her head. Her arms twine around my neck and she parts her lips, inviting me in.
She does taste like mint. And rum and lime. And I have missed these lips. I kiss her again and again. There is no way I could ever get enough. She kisses me back just as feverishly, pressing her body into mine, our tongues caressing, teeth nipping. My dick is straining to get out of my pants and just fucking into her.
“Spencer.” My name is a sigh on her lips that I can barely hear over the pounding beat of the music.
And then I say the hardest words I’ve ever had to say in my life.
“If I take you home with me, will you regret this in the morning?”
Her eyes blink open, hazy with lust and I want to take the question back. But I think it might kill me if she regrets it, so I wait.
“I—I don’t know.”
I nod, grateful that she didn’t try to lie to me or to herself.
I press a gentle kiss to her lips again. And then one more. Because I won’t be taking her to bed tonight and I need just a little more before this night is over.
“I’m sorry, Spencer,” she begins, but I stop her.
“Don’t be. I want you, Lis. But I’m willing to wait until you’re sure.”
I entwine our fingers and tug her with me back to our table. I order us an Uber and then finish the last gulp of my beer while she does the same with her mojito. Then I pick up the hoodie from the back of the chair and pull it over her head, loving the weirdly erotic feeling dressing her in my clothes gives me.
We go outside and the car I ordered takes us to her place first. I ask the driver to wait a moment while I walk her to her door. The rules have slipped for tonight, so instead of the kiss on the head or the cheek that I’ve been limiting myself to for the last few weeks, I kiss her properly, sliding my tongue along hers in a caress that she returns.
When I end the kiss, she watches me with green eyes.
“Sleep well, firecracker. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I’ve been walking her home almost every night we’ve worked together. I’m not sure she realizes I wait for her sometimes—I don’t mention it, and neither does she. Every time, when we arrive at her building, I wait for her to get inside and onto the elevator before I leave.
Tonight, I don’t. Because if I don’t leave right now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.