She looks up at me curiously, but deciding to play along, lays her head back down. “Pink. And orange, but not burnt orange. Bright orange.”
“You mentioned reading. Who’s your favorite author? No, wait! Before you answer, let me guess.” She smiles up at me. She likes this game. “Bronte?” She neither confirms or denies, so I take it as a no. “Hemingway?” Still silent. I run my hands along her hips and pretend to take my time thinking. “No, okay, hmm, who’s that guy who writes all those books?”
She smirks.
“Nicholas Sparks? Nora Roberts? You seem like a romantic.”
When she smiles at my assumption, I continue on that theme. “Ooh I know.” I lean in close to her ear. “Are you into that Fifty Shades stuff? Are you freaky, Kit?”
She blushes a deep crimson red, which has my dick twitching against her stomach. “Okay, back to the romance,” before I embarrass myself. “Classics. Jane Austen, maybe?”
Her eyes flash with fun. I’ve got her now. “Ah, Jane Austen, okay. So, the next part’s easy, your favorite book is Pride and Prejudice?”
Her dimples pop when she laughs. “You’re alarmingly knowledgeable on romance authors, Bobby. That’s different for such a…” She searches for the right word. “I dunno… aguyishkinda guy. But you’re mostly right. I’ve actually read and love all of the above. And Pride and Prejudice is pretty high up on my favorites list. What about you? Do you like to read?”
I shrug and slide my hands around her hips. Every now and again, I stretch my fingers around and get to feel her ribs or the top curve of her delicious ass. I’m certain she can feel my dick against her stomach, but she doesn’t seem to mind and she doesn’t mention it. “Harry Potter’s kinda bomb, though I don’t make time to read unless my friends make me.” I bring my right hand up to skim over her jaw. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Chocolate.” She smiles. “And cheesecake. Oh, and pizza.”
And on we continue.
I ask about her childhood pets, favorite cars, dream holiday destinations, and millions of other seemingly unimportant questions, and something I notice almost immediately is her desire to be humble. She doesn’t rattle off three-hundred-thousand dollar Aston Martins as dream cars, or Prague or Paris for holiday destinations.
She leans on me comfortably as we dance. Her stammering and nervousness are gone, her blushes are fewer and less often, her clammy hands disappeared. After what feels like several hours and mere seconds at the same time, when she leans too heavily from exhaustion, I concede defeat, take her hand, and lead her off the dance floor and back to her seat.
I look around in search of my brothers. Aiden and Jimmy dance with a group of girls not far from where Kit and I stood, and Jon sits at the bar with his eyes on the bartenders.
Well, on one bartender in particular.
With dread for the inevitable, I check my watch and note the time. One in the morning. I get a feeling Kit’s not a party-all-night-all-the-time kinda girl. And just like I know that about her despite having only just met her, I can also tell she’s not a one-night-stand kind of girl.
I came out tonight looking for a good time, and though I know she could be that for me, I know that’s not whosheis. Not only that, but I know one time with her in my bed might not be enough. I’m not a long-term kinda guy, but Kit’s too good for short term.
So that pretty much leaves me fucked… figuratively.
At my continued silence, she begins rifling through her purse, and I’m pretty fucking sure it’s not for a condom. She pulls out a set of keys attached to a furry pink keyring, and bracing herself, looks up and meets my eyes.
Shy Kit is back. “I had a nice time, Bobby. Thanks for introducing yourself, and for the drink. And for the dance…”
I lean into her space before she bolts. “Where are you going now?”
She holds her keys up between us, almost like a shield. “I’m… Home.”
“But how are you getting there? You can’t drive. You’ve been drinking.”
“No, I’m okay. My last drink was over two hours ago. I’m good to go…” With an awkward hesitance when I don’t break our stare, she thrusts her hand between us to shake.
What the fuck?
No way in hell am I shaking her damn hand and letting her escape that easily.
Instead, I take her hand and pull her against my chest. “I’ll walk you to your car. Come on.” I pull her through the crowd slowly. We shimmy around dancing bodies and dodge spilled drinks. I catch Aiden’s eyes on the way past him and a blonde chick, but instead of my usual ‘catch you tomorrow,’ I simply tell him ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
I know that’s odd to him, but I’m not stopping right now to explain myself. With Kit’s hand securely wrapped in mine and our fingers twined, I lead her through the heavy security door, away from the noisy club and out to the silence of the middle of the night.
Our steps are slow, our arms swing gently. I let her lead us, and when we step into the same furniture store parking lot that Jim parked in, I smile.
Small world.