Chapter 7 #2
If I didn’t already know I was in over my head, then the surge of protective instincts that riot inside of me at her statement would have made it abundantly clear.
I keep my tone light—hiding in the frivolous is how I roll.
‘You’re welcome to catch an Uber, beautiful, but I’m heading that way anyhow. ’ I shrug. ‘Up to you.’
To underscore that, I place my half-empty beer glass down on a nearby table. ‘I’m off,’ I say to the others.
Katie glances in my direction, then Bailey’s, a small frown on her lips. I touch the brim of my hat. ‘Night, all.’
Consternation is clear on Bailey’s features as I rejoin her side. She doesn’t say anything, until we get out of the bar and the quiet of the night enfolds us, a welcome reprieve from all that talking and music.
‘This really isn’t necessary.’ The way she keeps doing that—pushing me away—is driving me crazy, and despite the fact I’m usually the guy you can rely on for a quick joke, something inside of me snaps.
‘Bailey James, has anyone ever told you that you can be completely insufferable?’
She stares at me, obviously surprised by the question.
‘I just don’t like you waiting all alone out here. Is that a crime?’
‘Treating me like some kind of child?’
I exhale, trying to get a hold of my temper. I’m known for that, on the tour. I’m the guy who’s unshakable. Unflappable. But I don’t feel remotely like either of those two things now.
‘You and I are stayin’ at the same hotel, right?’ I demand, moving toward my truck and opening the front passenger door for her. ‘I’m going there now. You’re going there now. There is no earthly reason for you to take an Uber.’
‘You’re only leaving because you feel some completely unnecessary obligation to look out for me, and I hate that,’ she says, but she does at least start walking toward me.
‘Shows what you know,’ I mutter. ‘I told you, one drink is all I ever come here for.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘You done making assumptions about me yet?’
She just glares at me, like she’s feeling the same frustrations I am.
‘And here I thought you were a reporter. Isn’t your job to look out for the truth?’
Her lips move like she can’t breathe, like I’ve hurt her.
Which is the last thing I intended, and if I’d been thinking straight, I might even have apologised for saying something stupid.
But she’s driving me crazy. Not Bailey, but the way just being near her rattles parts deep inside of me.
The way she keeps pushing me back even as she obviously wants to pull me closer.
The way she’s insisting nothing can happen between us, when it’s goddamn obvious that we both need to scratch this itch.
‘I am looking out for the truth,’ she responds, eventually.
‘That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Following you around like one of those women in there.
Your problem is that I don’t stare at you with drool coming out of the side of my mouth.
Your problem is that I don’t look at you like I want to jump into your pants. ’
Well, fuck me, if that isn’t both a distracting thought and a clear dare. I hold my ground—I don’t need to move. She’s come to stand close enough to me, anyways. Toe to toe, like she wants to have this fight more than anything.
‘Oh, honey, you think that’s not how you’ve been looking at me?’ I ask, dropping my head a little, so there’s barely a hair’s breadth between us. ‘You can say the words, but that don’t mean they’re true.’
She gasps, and when her eyes meet mine there’s something like a plea in their depths.
A plea to pull away from her and put a stop to this.
Well, she doesn’t need to be scared. I’m not gonna kiss her; not without a gilded invitation first. But I’m also not going to stop her from giving in to temptation, if that’s what she wants to do.
Because I know we’re both fighting a losing battle here, pushing one another away. I know that even when we both know what’s right, this thing is bigger than us, and the only way to get past that is to surrender to it. To get under it.
‘You really think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you?’
There are a thousand jokes on the tip of my tongue, but something holds me back from saying any of them. ‘We were talking about you.’
‘No, you were telling me I’m drooling whenever I look at you.’
‘Hey, if the shoe fits …’
‘Are you delusional? Do you not remember, two nights ago, me telling you this was never going to happen?’
‘I remember you telling me it couldn’t happen, because of your job.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s the same thing.’
‘Is it?’
Silver moonlight bathes her, showing me the pink of her cheeks, the wide-set of her eyes.
Showing me the thousand-and-one feelings that quickly flit across her features.
‘You know what, Beau?’ She reaches up then, grabbing my shirt in her fist, surprising me—and herself, I think—with the rapid, urgent action.
‘You don’t know a damned thing about me. ’
I’m about to remind her that we have a deal to remedy that, but before I can say a word, she’s pushing up onto the tips of her toes and closing the distance between us, kissing me as though she’s been wanting to all night.
Kissing me like it’s the one and only thing on her mind.
And hell, it is everything I need in that moment.
Her mouth is soft, just like I thought it would be, those full lips melting to mine as her body closes the distance between us and my hands move from the car door to her, wrapping around her waist and pressing her hard to my body, holding her there, running over the soft fabric of her shirt like my life depends on it.
She whimpers, a sound so raw it tightens all the muscles in my body.
In the back of my brain, something is yelling at me to pull back and give her a second to breathe, to think. To let the fever of need calm down.
‘This is— It doesn’t— mean— anything—,’ she says breathlessly, into my mouth. They’re words I usually say, albeit couched a little more gently, so I wrap them up and press them into my heart, telling myself that meaningless things are safe things, for both of us.
‘It means I was right,’ I can’t help volleying back though, grinning against her lips. My thigh slides forward, nudging her legs apart, and I move to push her against the side of the truck, so her body is more fully surrendered to mine.
She groans, tilting her head back, breaking the kiss, but only so my mouth can seek the soft, sensitive flesh at her throat and kiss her there, my stubble leaving pale-pink marks that stoke some ancient, primal beast to life inside of me.
My hand shifts to her hip and separates her silky shirt from the waistband of her pants, my fingertips brushing over her warm, soft stomach.
I can hardly breathe, the heat inside of me is so absolute.
‘Yeah, you were right,’ she pants, and her eyes find mine, that same look of helplessness in them, but a sense of hunger too. ‘So, what are you going to do about it, cowboy?’