Chapter 2 #2
The volume of Cherry’s laughter turned the heads of several people dancing nearby. ‘Okay, where is your mother? I need to thank her for raising you and ask her permission to marry you.’
‘It’s true though, right?’ His expression was so sinfully earnest that she could have kissed him there and then.
‘It is mainly true. But it’s not all about biology. I’d like someone to be part of the journey.’
‘And your ex. He’s…?’
‘An alcoholic. Still plays poker, badly. Drinks too much and sways around tables, putting people off their game. There are reasons he’s like that, but it’s hard to sympathise when he’s such an arse to people, me included.’
Sean sighed, pulling her a little closer, the rough wool of his kilt brushing her leg.
‘Alcohol is a fucker. My uncle Archie was an alcoholic. Drinking killed him, lost him his wife to his brother and left a permanent mark on our family. His sons – my brothers – are lucky to have grown up with our dad. We were all lucky…’
Cherry caught the tendon in his jaw flexing as he trailed off. ‘You okay?’ She was glad for the focus to be drawn away from her.
‘Aye... Aye. Cal is the first of my siblings to get married, and we’re doing it without my dad. All a bit weird, but it’s not meant to be a time of me sobbing into my whisky or, even worse, your whisky.’
‘Sob into my whisky all you like.’ She imagined drawing her glass under his chin, like with buttercups in the school playground. If it weren’t for the neat brush of stubble, the golden glow of the drink would surely reflect off his skin.
Sean smiled. ‘I’d rather focus on moving forward and making things better for other people. My siblings and I are cycling a hundred miles down the Kintyre Way in September for an MND charity.’
‘That’s incredible.’ A philanthropist too. This man kept on giving. ‘I can’t wait to meet them.’
And she’d said the right thing because Sean’s face illuminated. ‘No time like now,’ he declared. ‘Come on…’ He tugged her away from the dance floor into a whirlwind of Butler siblings.
Cherry tried her best to remember the names.
There was Cal, a bar owner, and his new wife – a stunning redhead – Bea.
Jamie, the second eldest and CEO of Butler’s whisky.
Niall was a keen surfer, like Sean, and his partner in crime as teenagers.
And then came the triplets: chilled vet Nate, exuberant actress Cara and Eilidh, a teacher, who seemed possessed of an untamed energy.
Clearly a lot of alcohol had been consumed, but handshakes and hugs were offered.
The only person Sean didn’t introduce was his mother.
But that was fine because meeting the mother was the big gun.
‘Did you know,’ Cherry said as they danced again, ‘that there was this psychological study in the nineties where the participants asked one another a list of questions, stared into each other’s eyes for three minutes and some of them fell in love?’
Sean leaned in, everything else fading out again as his voice vibrated in her ear. ‘I didn’t, but go on…ask away.’
‘I can’t remember all the questions, but one is: Tell your partner something you like about them already.’
‘Hmm, okay…’ Sean wasted no time. ‘I like your hair, I like your sex-crazed bucket list and I like that you’re not afraid to go after vol-au-vents when you see them.’ He winked at her. ‘Your turn.’
A smile lifted Cherry’s mouth before she spoke. ‘I like that you’ve not entirely dismissed me for ram raiding your life tonight. That you’re a “yes, let’s” type of guy. And as previously discussed, I like your gorgeous, swimmable green eyes that I’d go skinny dipping in if they were lakes.’
Sean lifted his brows as if to give her a better view. ‘I’ve never heard that before. Come skinny dip anytime.’ He glanced at the table then back to her. ‘Want to do it now for three minutes? See if you fall in love with me?’
‘You bet I do.’ Cherry let him lead her back to their seats, where she placed her tumbler down, looked at him and was slammed with a realisation.
Staring into this man’s eyes for three minutes was an entirely superfluous part of the process of falling in love with him.
It was like wondering what cards your opponents held when you were already staring down at a Royal Flush.
The second the elevator doors closed, their lips collided, tongues entangled, hands everywhere – Sean’s hands sliding over her backside, hers buried in his hair.
‘Fuck, Cherry.’ He pushed her up against the gunmetal wall, the heavy fabric of his kilt hot and scratchy against her knees, the furnace of his skin burning through the white cotton of his shirt.
Everything in this tin box was rising – the temperature, the glowing numbers ticking upwards as they rose through the floors of the hotel and the heat between them.
Clutching at the shirt, Cherry tugged Sean towards her, needing to feel him – badly.
And feel him she could. There was enough there for its magnificence not to be tempered by the barrier of his kilt.
How far they could go was out of their hands, but who cared?
The only thing that mattered was this moment with this incredible Scotsman, whose evening she had serendipitously ambushed. Everything else was background noise.
‘You sure you want to do this?’ Sean spoke hoarsely into her ear as he ran his touch inside her dress. Damn, no man’s hand had ever felt as good as this. One of Sean’s placed on her thigh was doing more for her than the whole body of anyone she’d been with in the past.
‘Yes…’ Cherry grasped at his kilt. ‘I want this. I want to fuck in an elevator with you, Sean Butler.’
‘Let’s get those items checked off your list then.’ He hoisted her dress up, and she lifted her leg and hitched it over his hip. He’d be able to see now how wet she was through her white underwear.
And to see his face as a low ‘fuuck’ emerged, it soaked her even more.
‘Jesus, Cherry, you’re this wet for me already. Say you’ll marry me.’ He did at least meet her eye as he spoke.
‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’ Cherry lifted the edge of Sean’s kilt. Absolutely she would marry him because look at what she’d get for the rest of her life. The Butler genes played a strong game, it would seem.
But something changed in Sean’s expression. Seriousness took over. What had she said? She dropped the kilt.
‘I’m not doing this here,’ he said.
‘What? Why?’ Cherry lowered her leg, suddenly feeling exposed.
‘Because it should be better than this. The first time. It won’t be a quick fuck in a lift with someone else walking in and seeing you with your leg round my waist. I know that sounds daft and possessive, because I’ve known you a few hours, but…
Well, I dunno what’s going on, to be honest. I just know I’m not doing this with you here. ’
He must have clocked her confusion.
‘I’m serious, Cherry. I know we’ve joked about getting married, but it doesn’t feel like a joke. It should, but it doesn’t.’
‘Are you religious?’ What guy who was ready to have sex in an elevator stopped as the ride was beginning?
Sean stroked her dress down over her hips. ‘I think I might be about to get pretty fucking religious about you. You deserve better, Cherry.’
On a curious head tilt, she asked, ‘How do you know what I deserve?’
‘Okay, I phrased that wrong. I want to give you something better. How does that sound?’
She couldn’t deny that it made sense, but it didn’t make it any less surprising. ‘I don’t know what to say. No man has ever said those words to me before.’
‘Well, that’s a fucking disgrace.’ Sean traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. ‘But here we are, and here I am with my words. You can decide whether to find out if they have substance or not.’
The sincerity in his eyes blew Cherry away.
Men could lie. Men did lie. And she had fielded a thousand lies from less than a handful of men.
But most of the time, she’d known they were lying – poker had given her the skill to discern a thousand tells.
Sean Butler was either entirely sincere or the best liar of the male species she’d ever met.
‘Okay, so what are we doing then?’ She adjusted her breasts inside her bra cups. ‘Going to bed in separate rooms with a cup of hot cocoa?’
At that moment, the elevator doors pinged and slid open. Level twenty-five. Where Cherry’s room was located.
‘Let’s get off.’ Sean reached for her hand.
‘Or not.’
Ignoring her dig, he moved out of the lift and into the corridor. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.’
Outside Cherry’s room, her hand still in Sean’s, she sensed him watching her as she unlocked the door with her keycard.
She swung round and leaned against it, pushing it open with her back, gaze fixed on him, lips parted, lids laden, anticipating his response.
This seductiveness had worked in the past.
But Sean examined her with a pained expression that suggested he was fighting against every atom of desire in his body. He wanted her, but he wasn’t going to take her. The man had principles. She should admire him for that.
But, hell, she wanted him. Like, achingly wanted.
‘Are you coming in?’ she asked. Goddammit, say yes.
‘No. Do you have a pen in your bag?’
Cherry sighed, fished into her bag and handed Sean a ballpoint pen.
He lifted her hand to his. ‘Here’s my room number.’ Sean wrote the number 3707 on her skin, and next to it his name. If you wake up and still feel the same as tonight, come get me. I’ll take you to breakfast.’
Cherry considered the rather surprising number. ‘It almost looks like love,’ she said.
‘Pardon?’
‘The numbers: three, seven, zero, seven. They almost look like L, O, V and E, when you’re reading upside down.’
Sean looked down at her hand still resting in the confident hold of his own, considering her observation. He ran the wide pad of his thumb under the numbers. Low-level electricity zinged through her.
‘Aye,’ he murmured deeply. ‘It’s all a bit backwards and upside down, but it does kind of look like “love” alright.’ The dismissal or humouring that Cherry had expected wasn’t there. Only a man on exactly the same page.
Only a concurrence that this could indeed be love, delivered in an encrypted way but there to see if you knew how to decode it.