Chapter 2
Cienna
How I found myself tiptoeing toward an appointed male target was a blur.
When Kennedy chased me with an eye-shadow brush, I finally caved, but my hair was up in a messy bun as an act of rebellion.
I was rewarded with my coffee, as promised, endured rowdy whoops as we gallivanted to the bar, and even donned my light-up penis necklace—with the plan to accidentally leave it in the bathroom.
Drinks were ordered, shots were tossed back, and somehow, the conversation turned from Jenn’s honeymoon plans to me.
The term cat lady was tossed around, there was a double dare, and the next thing I knew, I was standing a few steps back from a man at the bar, gaping at him and dying from nerves.
Sounds from the sports channel, hollers, clinking glasses, and chatter swirled around me as I stared at the back of his head.
The collar of his crisp cornflower-blue shirt grazed copper curls, his neck muscles straining as he dipped his head to take a sip of his drink.
When he turned to the side, I studied his silhouette, an angular jaw, carved cheeks, and protruding brows. The most beautiful shade of tawny stubble stood out on his fair skin, dotted with perfectly scattered freckles.
My stomach fluttered—not with soft butterflies but with, like, blind dragonflies. Just flapping around, knocking into one another. And no matter how hard I swallowed, my mouth stayed dry, but I knew what I’d return to if I didn’t see this through.
After one last glance at my friends, I took three big steps. I inhaled deeply and let out a breathy “Hey.” Not an attractive, raspy hey. More like an I-need-my-inhaler hey. You’d think I just ran a freaking marathon with how winded I was.
The man smiled, immediately melting my insides, then cocked his head and swiveled his stool toward me. “Hey.”
I looked down at my fidgeting hands and then back up with a bite of my lip. “Um, this is weird, I know. But can you just pretend I said hi to you.”
He smirked, and my face blazed with heat. “You did just say hi to me.”
“Ha,” I blurted out, smacking his arm, then reeled back immediately, my stomach dropping as I realized I’d touched him. With a shaky breath, I said, “You’re right… okay. Sorry to bug you. It was a dare.”
My gaze lingered on the movement of his thumb fondling the rim of his glass. How did something so simple look so sensual?
I’d die to be that glass right now.
His tongue peeked out to give his lower lip a lick, and the heat spread from my cheeks down my neck.
“Ah, that bachelorette party over there.” He nodded toward the table of my obnoxiously loud friends. As if on cue, Darcy started banging on the table while she and Kennedy chanted “Chug, chug, chug,” watching Jenn gulp down the last half of her Corona.
I’m not going to survive four more days with these feral females.
“I thought the bride was supposed to be the one doing the dares?” he said, commanding the return of my attention as he quirked a brow.
I’d never been good at talking to random people, let alone an insanely attractive man. I wanted to give him a thumbs-up and run back to my friends. With the minimal amount of discretion I could summon, I wiped the sweat from my hands down the front of my skirt.
Play it cool, Cici.
Apparently, playing it cool translated to doing a full-on “snap and point” straight out of a cheesy ’80s sitcom.
That was definitely not cool, Cici.
“Well, apparently, I have been deemed the group’s future cat lady, so I have been dared to say hi to the hottest guy in the room.”
Oh shit, I just told him he’s hot.
Not just hot, the hottest.
That’s humiliating.
Can I please crawl into the fetal position now?
I leaned my elbow on the bar, attempting to appear relaxed, and a twinkle of amusement sparked in his green eyes as he said, “And now I get the pleasure of talking to the hottest girl in the room.”
Oh, pfft.
A snort dared to escape from me before I played along. “Oh, who?” I pretended to scan the room curiously. “I make a great wingman.”
His smirk shifted into a wide smile, followed by a chuckle while he looked me up and down. “Beautiful and funny.”
A jolt of electricity zapped through my body as his eyes locked with mine. The warmth on my skin turned feverish, and I dipped my head, unable to hold his gaze for fear that my insides would combust.
Staring down at my flip-flop-clad feet, I used my chipped nail polish and the gleaming hardwood floors as a poor distraction from how my body reacted to him.
He tapped my arm, and I peered back up, ready to burst from a mixture of torture and intrigue as he tilted his head. “So was there anything else you were dared to do? Like get me to buy you a drink?”
My toes curled, practically crawling out of my sandals. “Oh, no, that’s it. I’ll get out of your hair.” My haphazardly thrown-together bun slipped from its place, and loose tendrils flooded my peripheral with how frantically I shook my head.
I started to turn away, half relieved that the torment was over but also already missing the feeling that this man’s stare jolted through my body—something I hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever.
I should probably just get cat insurance now.
A hand grazed my arm, and I halted.
“I guess I’ll just have to ask, then. Can I buy you a drink?” The intensity in his gaze had softened. And that adorable smirk returned, forcing me to break eye contact and peer down at where his gentle grip was wrapped around my wrist. When I look back up at him he wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
“Um, sure. Thanks.” It was nearly a whisper, not having enough of my breath to fully speak.
“What will you have?” he asked, giving the counter a quick knock to get the bartender’s attention.
Pondering this for a moment, I rubbed my lips back and forth, pretending to be indecisive when, in reality, I had no idea what one should order when offered a drink by a guy way out of one’s league.
Something cool sounding, maybe something on the rocks, something with a sexy name, but I couldn’t name a drink to save my life.
Something about this ginger adonis of a man completely liquefied my brain.
My mouth—and apparently ten-year-old me—took control and blurted out, “Oh! Something with an umbrella. Oh! And pink.” I clapped excitedly.
I. Just. Freaking. Clapped. About. A. Tiny. Umbrella.
Mr. Hottiepants fought to hold back a grin while he leaned over the bar to speak into the bartender’s ear.
His shirt lifted, exposing a tiny peek of skin.
For all my libido knew, that sliver of tanned, freckled skin was more salacious than any part of the male body I’d ever laid eyes on.
I had to give myself a quick pep talk on how we don’t go around licking people, because I’d never wanted to taste something more in my life.
He turned back to me, and my gaze flicked back to his face.
God, I hoped he didn’t notice my ogling.
His face lit up with a knowing smile.
Of course he did.
He held the grin for a moment, then put me out of my misery. “So where are you from?”
Leaning against the bar became the most painful act of casualness I’d ever attempted.
Blinking a few times, hoping it would trigger the magical brain reboot I needed, I reached for a piece of hair on my shoulder to fiddle with, but my hair was still in a frumpy pile, slowly making its sloppy descent down my head.
Dammit, Kennedy was right. Hair down! Always hair down.
Without my go-to coping mechanism, I clasped my hands in front of me, then finally formed words and answered, “Originally Seattle. But I live in Kelly Grove. It’s this little town outside of Sacramento.”
“Nice.” He nodded. “My sister lives in Kelly Grove, actually. And I’m, like, thirty minutes away from there.”
My hands were having a—hopefully hidden—thumb war while I tried to smile and breathe. Talking was still unpredictable, even though there were so many options of what I could say in response.
Wow, small world.
Fancy meeting you here, neighbor.
Did you fly or drive?
Apparently, dead silence and a bit of gawking was all I could manage.
“So you’re here with a bachelorette party? You’re in for a fun few days.” He raised an eyebrow, eyes full of curiosity. He must be used to talking to people. Not tiny human people like I spend my day doing, but actual grown-up people.
“That’s one way to put it.” I smiled and looked around nervously, unsure what to say next. “Are you here with anyone?”
Oh shit, that was not the thing to ask. Abort, abort!
Certain my face was the color of a maraschino cherry, I reached up to cover my mouth. “Oh, not that I’m trying to hit on you.” My voice rose another octave, and words spilled off my lips. “I’m just curious, making conversation… Wow, I really suck at this.”
Okay. A hole to crawl in would be great right now.
With another deep chuckle, he asked, “What is ‘this,’ exactly?”
Shrugging my shoulders, essentially imitating a turtle attempting to hide back in its shell, I fumbled out more words in a clusterfuck of nonsense.
“Um, the thing where I talk to people. I talk to children all day, but talking to adults is clearly not my forte.” I gave him an awkward smile, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bartender bringing over our drinks.
The guy placed little square napkins down on the bar and set our drinks on top, and I breathed out a sigh of relief at the brief interruption.
My drink was frothy and pink, with a tiny magenta umbrella and a fruit kabob of watermelon, strawberry, and cherry.
My inner child let out a squeak of happiness, earning myself a chortle from Mr. Mesmerizing Strip of Skin.
“Children? All day?” he asked as he turned back to me.
“Yes, I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
He gave me a curious look before his eyes darted to my lips, watching me sip my drink. We stood in silence for a moment before panic seeped in as I realized I was likely missing some kind of social cue.
“Okay, so thanks for the drink? I don’t know how this works. Do I just go sit back down? Do I do something in return?”
No, no. Not the helium voice.
I looked around like a caged animal seeking escape, until he simply replied, “No, nothing in return.” He leaned in a little, and my breath hitched.
“You can go back to your friends. Enjoy your drink. And each time you take a sip, you can remember that someone here enjoyed your company.” A turn of his head brought his mouth closer to my ear.
“An actual adult… one who would love it if you were hitting on him. And who is, in fact, here alone.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t even sure how that one small word made it out of my lungs. His smell, lingering gaze, and deep-timbred voice all left me breathless. Not knowing what to do, I turned on my heels and fled.