Chapter 1 #3
He pats the empty space next to him, and I only hesitate a second at his request. Setting the cherries and beer down, I slide across the sticky vinyl, my knee brushing his thigh as I angle to face him. Reaching into the cup, I fish out the longest stemmed cherry I see.
“Prepare to be wowed.” And I pop it into my mouth.
His gaze sweeps across my face, landing heavy on my lips while I concentrate on this so-called party trick.
It takes a few seconds, but finally I push the stem between my teeth, showing off the perfect knot.
I flinch when he reaches up and snatches it.
The pad of his thumb brushes across my lower lip, and it takes all I’ve got to tamp down the spark that heats my blood.
“Hey! That’s my stem!” I gasp, grabbing his wrist.
“So demanding.” He holds up the stem to inspect it. “I was only admiring what a very…talented tongue you must have.” His voice drops an octave, low and teasing.
Meanwhile, I’m focused on his mouth forming the words. Full lips with the perfect cupid’s bow that most women would kill for. Lips made for kissing.
Fuck me, where did that come from?
“You’re new here.”
Dragging my gaze from his mouth, I reach his eyes which are sparkling with interest.
“Yeah? And what gave me away?”
“Lived here my whole life. Think I’d remember seeing you.”
Well then. This guy is ballsy.
“You just passing through or here for a while?”
Chewing my lip, I deliberate over his question. Am I staying here? “Undecided” is what I finally land on. “Hey, did you know there’s a group in town that buys Powerball tickets?”
“Shit. I almost forgot. Gotta get my money to Henry in the morning. You want in?”
I arch a brow.
“It’s not like I’m asking if you want in the town’s MLM or Ponzi scheme. It’s just lottery tickets. Something new Henry started doing. I think he called it team building to boost community morale.”
Shrugging, I dig in my purse for a twenty and hand it over.
“When in Rome, I suppose.”
I take a long sip of my IPA, eyes locked with his. Just to mess with him, I lick the beer from my upper lip and watch as his gaze follows the slow movement of my tongue. His mouth parts, eyes going hazy.
Well, hello there, Flirty Cassie. Haven’t seen you in a while. Instead of the cowed down, obedient girlfriend of Alan the Attention Whore, I’ll just be Cassie. I used to have plenty of confidence, and it feels good to flirt. Great, even. And this guy seems to like it.
He reaches beside him to where a pack of Marlboro Reds sit and produces a silver Zippo from his pocket, bringing the filthy cancer stick to his lips.
“What the hell are you doing? You can’t smoke in here.”
Eyes glinting in the low light, he says, “Angel, I can do whatever I want.” Like I said, ballsy, with a voice like silk. And then he surprises me by adding, “I own this place.”
Flicking the lighter, a bright orange flame hisses to life, but right as he’s about to bring it to the cigarette, I lean across and blow it out. His lips quirk and he flicks the lighter once more. And just like before, I blow it out.
“I could blow that all night,” I say, and once again, my face heats at what I just said.
He lets out an amused hum, leaning into my ear. “Aren’t you a dirty girl? I bet you could. And I guaran-fucking-tee I’d letcha.”
The flush deepens, but I refuse to look away.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Okay,” he says, setting the lighter down, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. “Let’s say for tonight I don’t smoke. Just for you. What do I get in return?”
I lift a brow and hold up one finger. “First, my respect. You’re being inconsiderate of your patrons.” His face shifts, a flicker of guilt, so to soften my delivery, I add in a lighter tone, “I’ll also throw in the pleasure of my company. I promise you, I’m a delight.”
Look at me feeling bold tonight, flirting with this tall, dark, and handsome stranger.
He rumbles out a laugh that ignites a flame in my belly, slowly traveling lower. But I’m not about to let him know the effect he’s having on me.
Crossing my arms, I eye him down, until finally he puts the cigarette back in its pack and stretches an arm across the back of the booth.
His fingers brush my bare shoulder as he does, and for one traitorous second, I go still.
My breath hitches and I pray he doesn’t notice the goose bumps that spring up on my arms at the contact.
“What’s your name?”
I hesitate and look at my hands resting on the table.
He’s still a stranger even if he is a gorgeous one.
But it’s just a first name, I reason. And if he comes back and Dexter’s me with a name that screams I have a collection of women’s hair in my freezer—something like Gary or Roger—I’ll find a way to bail.
“You first. What’s your name?”
“Liam,” he supplies, easy as you please.
“Liam,” I repeat. Okay, not a stalker name. A name that actually fits him perfectly. “Well, Liam, I’m Cassie.”
I stick out my hand and Liam envelopes it in his. “Cassie, short for Cassandra, I presume? You don’t know how glad I am to meet you.”