Chapter Two #2
“What?” she asked. “We’re not. You and I work in the same place, but we don’t,” she flapped a hand in the air, “hang out or anything. We’re not buds.
We’ve never had a conversation that didn’t revolve around work.
And we barely talk when we drive to events.
You’re always listening to your dumb country music. ”
“People can talk while they listen to music, Charity, and don’t call my music dumb.” He pointed his index finger at her. “Country songs are poetry about real life.”
This time she did roll her eyes. “Your taste in music rivals your taste in women. It’s no wonder you know nothing about me. I’m not the type of girl you’d ever look at, much less talk to.”
She finished her drink and glanced across at him. A pronounced frown covered his entire face, along with something in his eyes she once again had no clue about.
“You know it’s true.”
“Which part?”
“What?” She shook her head, the motion causing her to grip the table so she wouldn’t fall from the chair. She really shouldn’t let herself get so dehydrated.
“Which part do you think is true? That I have bad taste in music? Women? Or that you’re not my type?”
“All three.”
He considered her for a beat, then picked up his beer and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Sorry about the wait,” their waitress said, materializing in front of them. “It’s gonna be a few more minutes. Want another?” she asked Charity.
“Please,” she said at the same time Kolby said, “No.”
The server’s gaze bounced between them.
With first a withering stare for Kolby, then a smile for their server, Charity said, “Yes, please. I’ll have another one. Thank you.”
“You good, Kolby?”
“All set.”
Charity crossed her arms over her chest when they were alone again. “I seem to remember having this conversation already, but you are not my keeper, O’Brian. If I want another drink, I’m going to have one. I’m over the legal drinking age – -"
“You don’t act it.”
"—and I’m not driving.”
“Thank God for that.”
“But even if I were, I’d take car service, so just stop trying to,” her fingers splayed in the air again, “whatever, and let me enjoy myself. I’ll remind you, I wasn’t the one who drove us here.
I was perfectly content to head straight home.
At least there I could have a drink without you looking at me with condescending disgust.”
He continued to regard her through those eyes that made her feel like he was undressing her, even though she knew it was more likely he was plotting her demise. No way did he care what she looked like naked. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she wasn’t his type.
Nope. Not even close.
Kolby went for leggy, skinny, busty, and experienced women, who weren’t looking for anything more than a few hours of sexual release, not a height-challenged, flat chested, emotionally fragile wedding planner assistant looking for a lifetime commitment with her soulmate.
“I’m not looking at you with disgust, Charity.”
“You need a mirror because it looks that way from where I’m sittin'.”
He stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if you think that. And I’m sorry if you thought I stepped over a line with the drink comment. I was simply worried about you drinking alcohol on an empty stomach after working like a dog for over thirteen hours.”
His repentance looked sincere. And cute.
Really cute.
And hot.
So freaking hot.
And speaking of hot...certain parts of her body were getting a little steamy, too, as he kept staring at her.
Her drink arrived just in time to help cool her down.
When she took a big gulp, Kolby shook his head again. “If I say slow down until you get some food in you, are you gonna bite my head off?”
“I’d rather bite something else,” she said, and immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, horrified. A huge hiccup erupted from her and spilled around her fingers.
“I’m...I mean...” Hic. “Forget I said...” Hic. “I mean...” Hic.
Kolby’s eyes lasered onto her face. Narrowed.
“I didn’t mean that.” Hic. “I mean, well...” Hic. “I don’t want to bite it. You! I mean, you, of course." Heat rained down from her scalp to her cheeks and then neck, blazing over her skin. “I’m not a biting kind of girl.”
Why couldn’t the floor just open up and drag her down to hell so she could stop talking?
“Charity?"
“I mean, that I’m not gonna,” Hic, “yell or be mad at you if,” Hic, “you say something. I’m really not that kind of girl.” Hic. “I don’t carry grudges. And I don’t yell. Not usually,” Hic, “at least. With you, for some reason, all bets are off.”
Another hand clamp, this time accompanied by a huge eye roll that had her swaying with dizziness in her chair.
Lordy. What had gotten into her?
Stupid question, Baby-girl. Blame it on the alcohol was a hit song for a reason.
Kolby was sitting upright on his stool, his face a myriad of conflicting emotions. Confused eyes; embarrassed cheeks; mad mouth.
And he still looked good enough to...bite.
Stop. STOP!
“Char—"
“No. Don’t speak.” Hic. She held up a hand in a halt motion. “Just...just...” Hic. She jumped down from the chair and grabbed his arm. “Dance with me. Until the food comes.” Hic. “You’re right. I drank too much too fast. I need to burn it off. Come on.”
She tugged on his arm, subconsciously surprised when he rose and came with her to an open patch of land on the dance floor.
With no thought as to why this was the worst idea in the history of ideas, she realized, a bit too late, the song was a ballad and not a heart-thumping rock tune the band had been playing since they’d arrived. They’d switched sets at the worst possible time.
Slow, instead of fast, was not how she was going to dissipate the alcohol from her system.
Nor get the idea of laying her lips and teeth on Kolby from it.
“You know,” she said, adding one more hiccup, “maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” She turned and slammed straight into his wall of a chest. Kolby’s hands rose to settle around her upper arms.
Her bare upper arms.
The room revolved like a penny spun on its edge.
“Whoa,” she said, trying to get everything back in focus as she blinked a few times, her body swaying with the effort.
“Steady. I’ve got you.”
Effortlessly, Kolby slid one meaty hand around her waist, the other taking her hand and drawing her near enough to him that she could feel the natural heat wafting from his body, but not touching.
She really wanted to be touching.
So, she thought, what the hell and slid up against him, rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
Okay. Better. This was infinitely better.
Another hiss of air pistoned between his lips. Then, his body relaxed.
The strong, quiet drumming of his heartbeat against her ear muffled the slow music playing in the noisy room.
She could listen to it all night and never grow bored if it meant she could just leave her head right here.
The rhythm, so soothing, so calming, had her wanting to drift off to sleep with it thrumming against her cheek.
The hand Kolby had placed against her waist was now rubbing up and down her back in a tempo matching his beating heart. Slow; soothing; seductive.
Her nose nuzzled the gentle depression between his pecs as she burrowed into him like a bear snuggling down for the winter.
She’d thought more than once over the years that the man had a simply fabulous body.
Whether from lifting heavy photographic equipment and lights every day, or from a gym, his muscles were prominently on display bulging against the never-ending supply of T-shirts he wore, every last one of them looking as if they were painted on to his sculpted form.
Charity sighed.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mmm.”
His quiet chuckle sent a river of yearning cascading down her spine, firing like a thousand flares throughout her system. She thought she heard him say, “Lightweight,” but wasn’t sure.
With no memory of how they'd come to be that way, her arms had crossed around his neck, resting on his broad shoulders.
She found her hands playing with the long hair at the back of his neck.
Too short to run her nose along the column of his throat, which is what she wanted to do, she nuzzled into his chest instead.
And sniffed.
“You smell really good,” she said. She had to tilt her head way back just to see his face. He was a bit blurry around the edges, the lighting in the room seductively low. Kolby’s arms tightened when she leaned back so far she was in serious danger of falling on her ass. “What cologne do you use?”
“Irish Spring.”
She squinted. “Isn’t that soap?”
“Give the girl a prize,” he said.
His lips were a crooked smirk, those damn dimples she’d fantasized about deep and on broad display.
“You’re really good looking, too,” she said, simply, the hiccups finally flown.
“Thanks.” The dimples deepened.
“But you know that, which is why I never tell you.” She rested her head on his chest again and closed her eyes. “Your ego is big enough already.”
Gently, their bodies swayed to the music.
“So is everything else about you,” she murmured. “You’re so big.” She sighed. Kolby tightened his hold again. “It’s no wonder women throw themselves at your feet. You don’t even need to try.”
The words came out in a quiet rush.
“Must be nice, never having to worry about what you look like. One smile and you can have any woman you want. It’s so easy for guys like you.”
Another sigh.
“You sound bitter,” he said softly.
She thought about that for a moment as she reveled in how wonderful it felt to be in his arms.
“Not bitter, just...” She tried to lift her shoulder but couldn’t. She was so tired. Tired through to her bone marrow. Tired like she could sleep for a week. A month.
“Charity?”
“Mmm?”
“Babe? Are you falling asleep?” A laugh stifled his voice.
“Mmm. No. Just...resting.”
Now he did laugh. A quiet, deep chuckle that even in her exhausted state had every part of her body tingling.