Chapter Four
Rowan
The plastic crinkles under my hand as I suck up the last drop of water from the bottle. Before I can even set it down, another bottle appears. This time she sets it down next to me on the bench before sitting herself.
I smirk as I pick up the water bottle and say, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“I think you might be averse to bringing your own water bottles.”
I turn to my left and find her studying me. Her eyes wander over my body but not in a perverse way. More like I’m a puzzle she doesn’t have all the pieces to yet. “No, just averse to bringing more than one.”
“Does that make you shortsighted or a daredevil?” she asks, seriously.
She may be the most blunt person I’ve ever met. But I don’t hate it. There’s something refreshing about a complete stranger not bullshitting with you. “Daredevil for sure.”
“Hmmm, I could see that. You’ve got a certain kind of vibe to you.”
“What kind of vibe is that?” I ask, now more curious than ever. I’m fully invested in this conversation because it’s the most fun I’ve had all week, and we’ve only been talking for two minutes.
Her pouty lips pucker as she tilts her head to the side. “Like you would have no problem taking a girl on the back of a motorcycle and showing her a good time.”
My mind immediately goes to a different kind of “taking”. One I’m sure she didn’t mean to imply by the way she innocently studies me, but I can’t help but have a little fun of my own with her.
“Hard or soft?”
Her eyes crinkle in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“The ride? Would you like it hard or soft?”
“Don’t you mean, smooth or bumpy?”
I smirk as I lean toward her, making sure to hold her eyes the entire way.
I see her cheeks flush at my proximity, and that only eggs me on further.
I run my tongue across my top lip and watch as her eyes dilate at the small gesture.
I drop my voice down an octave. “Slow or fast?” I ask another question instead of answering hers.
I watch her swallow; my eyes follow the long, slender column of her throat, up past her chin, and snag on her plump lips.
Now it’s her turn to lick her lips; the movement has my heart speeding up, excitement that I haven’t felt in a long-ass time courses through my veins.
I’m completely captivated by this almost-stranger who has pretty honey-brown eyes and lips that I suddenly seem to want to kiss.
“Are we still talking about the ride?”
I nod and ask, “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”
She shakes her head, then answers, “No.”
I suddenly pull back, breaking whatever spell she seems to have put me under. “Me either.”
She throws her head back and laughs. Jealousy flares to life in my chest just watching as she gives herself over to the emotion completely. I used to be able to do that.
“You almost had me there. I thought you meant—oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“You can say it. I won’t judge, and maybe I meant exactly what you thought I did.”
She squirms a little, then reaches up and touches her cheeks with her hands. “Why are my cheeks so hot?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I welcome the lightness that fills my chest. “Probably because I was giving you sexual innuendos instead of real answers.” I figure Millie will appreciate bluntness in return, and she doesn’t leave me hanging with her response.
“We don’t even know each other’s last names, and the sexual innuendos have already started. Color me impressed.”
My right hand reaches out to shake hers. “Rowan Pierce.”
She smiles as she slides her tiny hand into mine. “Millie St. James.”
I roll her name around in my head. Something close to giddiness fills my chest at the idea of knowing another little tidbit of information about this girl, so much so that I crave to know more just to keep this feeling alive.
“What’s your favorite horror movie?”
She blinks slowly before tilting her head to the side to once again study me. “Scream, the original.”
“Interesting choice. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the stab-and-slice kind of girl.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Hey, I thought this was a judge-free zone.”
I raise my right hand and place it over my heart in a gesture of solidarity. “It is. I’m just surprised, is all.”
“You shouldn’t be; we’re practically strangers. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”
I raise one eyebrow as I dramatically make a show of looking her up and down. “You? A serial killer? Of what? Teddy bears?”
She giggles, “I totally could be! And that’s just mean to think I would hack up a teddy bear.” She actually looks offended for a second before she giggles again.
“My case in point.”
“Okay, tough guy. Your turn. What’s your favorite scary movie?” She drops her voice low and deep to mimic Ghostface. I’m sort of impressed at how well of an impression she does. She must really be a true fan.
I laugh, “Oh, I see what you did there, and I’m not falling for it. I’m no damsel in distress.”
“Oh, come on! Don’t you like scary movies?” She throws her voice again, and I think I might die from the laughing fit that started right after her first impression.
“Mission: Impossible or The Bourne Identity are more my jam.”
“Erkkkk. Wrong answer!” This time her impression is broken up by her own laughter.
I grab my chest because my ribs are starting to hurt from laughing so hard. “Millie, what is wrong with you?”
“A lot of things, Rowan. A lot.”
“Fuck, Millie. I think I like you.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Life shouldn’t be boring. It’s too short.”
“Well, Millie St. James, looks like you’re succeeding at life then because boring is the last word I would ever use to describe you.”
She bats her eyelashes. “Oh, shucks.”
We’re quiet for a moment before she asks, “Okay, my turn. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Is it your turn? I thought you already asked your question.” I push back, not because I care that she asked the last question but because the question she did ask is one I have no desire to answer.
“Oh poopy, I guess I did. Okay, your turn. Shoot.”
I chuckle as I take in the bright-eyed and slightly weird girl beside me.
She’s pretty in a natural way. There isn’t a lick of makeup on her face.
Most of the puck bunnies I know would have layered the makeup on just to come out here and work all day in the sun, in the off chance that they would see someone they know.
Who am I kidding? They wouldn’t step foot on this worksite for fear of breaking a fucking nail.
Millie is the exact opposite of that. You can tell she wants to be here.
She smiles, and I notice a sprinkling of freckles that dot her nose and both cheeks, which crinkle when her lips pull up.
My gaze finds hers, and I realize just how expressive her honey-brown eyes are. They draw me in and hold me captive.
But the thing that I think I’m drawn to most with her is that she’s fun. I realize that I haven’t thought once about hockey, or Stella, or any of that other shit that’s been plaguing me since we started talking. My chest feels lighter than it has in months.
But I can’t seem to figure her out. She rolls with the punches when I’m borderline inappropriate with sexual innuendos but says words like poopy. I find myself wanting to unravel more about my quirky new friend.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done, Millie?”
Her smile dims slightly as she looks off toward the other workers, who are starting to come back from their lunch breaks. “Does coloring outside the lines count?”
I can tell my question hit a nerve, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I lean over and gently bump my shoulder into hers. “Totally. I feel like you have to be a real rebel to break the confines of what society expects.” And I’m not pulling her chain.
If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that expectations can be brutal and suffocating.
Her eyes search mine—for what, I’m not sure—but when she smiles, something deep in my chest flutters. “I’m pretty sure the answer is supposed to be, ‘No, Millie, that doesn’t count.’”
I smile back, wanting to see that light return to her eyes that was just there moments ago. "You want to do something wild and crazy?"
Her hand comes up and grazes the skin on her neck before she suddenly drops it back into her lap. "I do."
I nod as I watch her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Then let me reword my question. Millie St. James, what is the craziest thing on your bucket list?"
She instantly lights up, her eyes crinkle with happiness as she brings her hands together in front of her, but she hesitates, like she has to think about her answer. "Skydiving!"
I laugh in surprise. "Really?"
"I've always wanted to see what it feels like to fly. To have that kind of rush of adrenaline? Gosh, it has to feel amazing. Have you ever gone?"
"No, I guess I'm too chicken for that. What else is on this bucket list of yours?"
"Mostly places and food, but I also have cave diving, scuba diving, and sword fighting."
I throw my head back and practically howl. "Sword fighting? Like medieval times?" I sit forward on the bench and completely turn toward her. "On a horse? In full armor? I have so many questions."
She laughs, the sound causes another flutter in my belly. "Horseback riding is also on the list, but that's separate from sword fighting. I kind of had fencing in my head more than metal armor."
I nod like that makes perfect sense. Who is this girl? And why do I like her so much? "Fencing makes so much more sense."
She laughs as she playfully shoves me on the shoulder. "Don't make fun of me. It's just something that I always thought looked fun. What's on your bucket list?"
"I don't have one."
She gasps as her eyes go wide in disbelief. "That's blasphemy! How?! Why?!"
I chuckle and shake my head. "I guess I've just always been focused on one thing."
"Let me guess, girls?"
"Nooo, Ms. Smarty-pants. Hockey."
"Hmmm, it's all starting to make sense now." She nods her head along like she knows a secret I don't.
"What makes sense?"
"I mean, now that you say it, I can see it. You've got that hot hockey player vibe going on."
I flutter my eyelashes and place my hand over my heart. "You think I'm hot?"
She laughs, "Have you seen yourself in a mirror? What kind of silly question is that?"
"My sister says I'm only one step up from Shrek."
She tilts her head as she studies me. "You do kind of have a big nose."
The bark of laughter that bubbles up from my chest surprises me. "Fuck, Millie. And here I was thinking you were cool."
"I am."
"You just told me I have a big nose!" Not the least bit offended. Quite the opposite actually. Her bluntness only intrigues me.
"That has nothing to do with my cool factor."
"You two ready to join back in or are you done for the day?" Joe, the foreman and a really good guy, asks just as I was about to ask Millie another question.
I look over and realize the whole crew is back at work. I was so absorbed in our conversation that I didn't notice the crew hammering and sawing away.
I stand up quickly, embarrassed to be caught slacking.
That's the last thing I want to do when every single one of us is volunteering our time for a great cause.
If one of us isn't pulling our weight, that means someone else is going to have to pick it up.
I don't want to be that guy. "Sorry about that. We were just about to get back at it."
"Yeah, sorry Joe. Lunch just got away from us," Millie says, sounding just as remorseful as me.
Joe smiles, "No worries. I just wanted to know so I could readjust assignments if need be."
"Nope. We're all good!" I answer as I pick up my tool belt I laid on the ground when I first sat down.
Joe tips his head down and turns to walk toward the crew handling all the framing, trim work, and drywall, where I've been working.
"I better get back." Millie hikes her thumb over her shoulder toward a separate crew that must be working on the yard, painting, and other finishes in the house.
"See you around, Millie St. James."
Her smile causes a funny reaction in my chest. "Catch you later, Rowan Pierce."