AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Me, too.” Wes stepped out of the car and came around to open her door. A wide smile lifted the corners of his sensuous mouth as he extended his hand to her.
Bree slipped her hand into his. A slight shiver trailed up her arm and his scent enveloped her.
She’d been aware of his masculine scent as they rode in the car, but it was subtle. Standing toe-to-toe with him, she was enraptured by the scent. She inhaled the notes of lavender, orange and patchouli, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment. Bree withdrew her hand from his and stepped away, hitching her purse on her shoulder.
Wesley’s gaze dropped to the stretch of skin the movement left exposed at her waist. His eyes traced her tattoo. A butterfly alighting on a lotus blossom. Warmth filled her cheeks.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s a beautiful tattoo. The colors are exceptionally vibrant, and it fits you.”
“Thanks.” She tugged down her blouse.
You are not attracted to him. You are not attracted to him. You are not…
Who was she kidding?
Of course she was attracted to Wesley Adams. He was tall, dark, handsome and incredibly fit. A fact not hidden by the gray, lightweight sweater he wore over a pale blue button-down shirt. His dark eyes, framed by neat, thick brows, seemed to stare right through her, exposing her every thought and emotion.
Bree folded her arms and nodded toward a redbrick-and-glass building that looked like a converted warehouse. “This the place?”
A stupid question, but she needed to say something. Anything.
“You bet.” Wes placed a hand low on her back as he steered her out of the way of a group of people who’d spilled out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. “Just wait until you try the chopped barbecue and fried okra.”
Bree tried to ignore the heat seeping into her skin and the way her body reacted to his touch.
“Not a fan of okra. It’s so…slimy. Human food should not be slimy.”
The laughter that rumbled in his chest vibrated against her shoulder. “I don’t disagree. In fact, the only way I’ll eat it is fried.” He ushered her inside.
“I’m not eating anyone’s okra.” Her tone was definitive.
“That’d be a shame, ’cause our okra is awful good.” A gorgeous blonde with sparkling blue eyes flashed her brilliant teeth in a good-natured smile.
“I’m sure it is.” Bree tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s just not my thing.”
“We got a menu full of options. You’ll have plenty to choose from.”
They settled into their booth and Bree scanned the menu.
“We can order whenever you’re ready.” Wes sipped his water.
“You haven’t touched your menu.”
Wes grinned. “Don’t need it. I know exactly what I want.”
* * *
He hadn’t intended to, but as Bree studied the options, her gaze buried in the menu, Wes took the opportunity to study her.
For a moment, why he’d chosen not to call her escaped him.
Right. Because he didn’t want to be the asshole who broke the heart of America’s volleyball sweetheart.
Being the good guy didn’t always pay off.
Bree tugged her full, lower lip between her teeth as she studied the menu.
Sensory memories of that night in London flooded his brain. The flavor of Bree’s lip gloss. The warm, sweet taste of her mouth. How her body—with its perfect mix of lean muscles and sexy curves—pressed against his. His pulse raced and heat crawled up his neck.
I’m a bloody masochist.
No other way to explain why he’d torture himself by inviting Bree Evans on this trip.
“I’ve heard about this place.” Excitement lit her brown eyes. “It’s supposed to be really good.”
“One of the best around. I come here whenever I’m in town.”
“You’ve been living in London. How often do you get to Raleigh?”
“Whenever I visit my mother, we make it a point to come here at least once.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Truthfully? Not often enough. I usually fly Mom out to visit me. I haven’t been too keen on returning home.”
“Why?” Her intent gaze penetrated him.
He opened his mouth to deliver his usual excuse, that he had been busy, but there was something about Bree. He didn’t want to bullshit her. Still, there was no need to relive his entire life story.
