I would have no idea what to do with a guy like Nick if I captured his attention, so best not to try.
“I was actually hoping you’d agree to come back and work the event,” I say. “And maybe we can…start over?”
“So, I’m un-fired?”
“You’re un-fired.”
“Then forget what I said about the smile,” he says with a wink.
“I’d rather not,” I hear myself say, surprising myself for the second time in less than fifteen minutes. There’s something about this guy that brings out the unexpected in me, which is also dangerous.
I don’t like unexpected things. Especially when they’re coming out of my own mouth.
Nick shifts closer, sending the soap, gasoline, and smoky campfire scent of him wafting my way. “What would your boyfriend think about that?” he asks in a husky voice that makes the hair at the back of my neck prickle.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I murmur, sounding drunk even though I haven’t touched anything harder than a wine cooler in months.
“Strange.” He cocks his head, considering me through narrowed eyes.
“What’s strange about it?”
“Girls like you always have boyfriends.”
“How do you know what kind of girl I am?” I ask, standing my ground when he moves even closer, until only a few inches separate us and I can feel the warmth of his body against mine. “We met ten minutes ago.”
“You’re a sweet, loyal, do-gooder type,” Nick says, his grin never wavering. “You never miss church on Sundays, make time to visit all your elderly relatives and listen to boring stories you’ve heard a million times, and you wouldn’t say shit if you had a mouth full of it. At least not in front of strangers. You’re fun, but not too fun, and always in bed before midnight. You work hard, strive for excellence, and have high standards. Sometimes, it pisses you off when others don’t, but at the end of the day you try to be kind above all else. And that’s why you followed me to hire me back.”
I frown, displeased by the accuracy of his description.
Am I that boring and easy to read?
“Sounds like you’ve got me all figured out,” I huff.
He makes a noncommittal humming noise. “Maybe. But there’s one thing I can’t pin down.”
“What’s that?” I ask, watching breathlessly as his lips move closer to mine
“Why you’re flirting with me,” he murmurs. “And why you’re going to let me kiss you.”
So, he thinks he’s going to kiss me, does he? the rogue voice in my head muses.
A beat later, before I’ve made any rational decision to make a move, I’m cupping Nick’s handsome face in my hands and pushing up on tiptoe to press my lips to his.
Our mouths meet with an intensity that sends a surge of delight rolling across my skin. Lips give way to tongues and before I can rethink the wisdom of pouncing a bad boy, Nick’s fingers are digging into my hips and I’m clinging to his shoulders as he presses me up against his car.
He kisses me like I’ve always wanted to be kissed, like he can’t get enough of my mouth, like he’s starving and I’m the only item on the menu.
No, like there are lots of other things on the menu, but I’m the only one he wants. I am the sole focus of his lips, his hands, his…
Oh wow. His hands are trouble. Especially the one cupping my breast through my tee shirt. I’ve only gone to second base with one guy and that certainly didn’t happen in broad daylight by the side of the road.
I need to rein in my crazy before I cause a scandal. If any of my mother’s friends see me like this, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Wait!” I shout against his lips, making him flinch and step back.
Taking advantage of the space between us, I scoot around him and head for the bug. “Sorry. I have to go,” I say, ridiculously flustered. I feel like an idiot—running from a kiss like it’s a poisonous snake—but I don’t know what else to do.
This isn’t like me. Nick was right. I’m a do-gooder. And when it comes to rounding the sex bases, I’m an excellent in-fielder. I don’t make the first move, I don’t kiss strange boys in public, and I don’t take boob touching lightly. Boob touching is a big deal for me, unlike for guys like Nick who probably touch a new boob every other night.
Also, I hate the word “boob” and need to stop using it, even in my brain, immediately.
“Gotta get to work,” I say with a thumbs-up so dorky I want to cringe, but I don’t. I reach for the door, fumbling with the handle while Nick watches me, a crooked smile on his face. “See you up there?”
“See you up there,” he says, “and Melody?”