AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Let me look," he says, taking my foot in his hand gently. "I think it's just a sprain."
"Ouch," I say, grimacing, but knowing he is right. It is tender, but not any more serious than that. Someone is already leaning down and offering Mike a bag of ice.
"Here, this will help," he tells me, his voice like butter, and I am melting right there on the steps. My resolve to get this man out of my head, to let the wind guide my sails isn't working.
Apparently, the wind wanted me right back where I started. In Mike's arms. I sigh, letting a smile crest on my face. It's not so bad, sitting here with him holding my foot like he's Prince Charming, offering me a glass slipper.
"Hey, that's what I like to see," he says with a grin, those dimples shining through. "A smile."
"I think I'm going to be okay," I say. "The shock of the fall is the worst part. And my ass will probably be bruised tomorrow."
"Maybe, but you shouldn't stand on this ankle for a few hours."
Nodding in agreement, I press a hand to my forehead. "I'm such a dork, it’s the first time I was invited to Millie's house and look what I go and do. Cause a whole scene."
"Not quite a scene, Clementine. It was a fall, that's all."
I take a deep breath. "I just hate looking like an idiot in front of all of you," I admit as he lifts me up by my hands and wraps an arm around my waist. With him holding me, I hop over to an Adirondack chair and then set my foot on a stool in front of me. Mike places the ice on top of it and leaves to retrieve me a new glass of wine.
"Here ya go," he says a few minutes later, offering me a fresh glass of Pinot Grigio. In the distance, I see Millie and Mox whispering and pointing at us. I'm suddenly realizing this might have been a setup.
"So, I take it Millie knows all about you asking me out the other day?” I say as Mike takes a seat next to me, fishing for information.
"Hell yeah, I thought we were going out until you canceled on me. So, of course, they knew all about me meeting you and wanting–-"
I cut him off and whisper-yell, "They know about us hooking up at the shop?" My cheeks burn, and I can't bear to look over at Millie.
"Hold your horses, Cutie, of course, I didn't tell him that. Though," he adds with a smirk, "I'm sure they can make a few guesses."
"I see, so you hook up with lots of girls in the shop?" I ask, giving him the stink eye. Not quite knowing if it should be a serious one or a fake one.
"No," he scoffs. "I don't do that. We covered that already, didn't we? I don't have time for other girls. I have Louisa think about."
"Exactly," I say softly, remembering again why the idea of him and me, together, is absurd.
"But luckily for you," he says, leaning closer to me, "you're not like other girls."
"Oh, yeah? And what am I exactly?" I ask. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered. Hearing his compliments makes me feel wanted and desired and, honestly? It feels really good.
He shrugs and answers me as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "You're the kind of woman I've always wanted."
"Well," I say, smoothing my still wet dress and thinking about the fact I am leaving town soon, starting a career and never looking back, "I'm not marriage material."
That makes him laugh, and he slaps his knee, letting out a roar. "Oh honey, I don't think you have any clue what you are."
His cocky arrogance is both infuriating and intoxicating. "Oh, yeah? And you know what I am?" I roll my eyes playfully before taking a sip of my wine.
"I think I do," his says, his voice low and gravelly and making my belly do flip-flops. I want him closer. As if reading my thoughts, he inches closer still, and I breathe him in -- he smells like gasoline and Old Spice and snickerdoodle cookies. Manly and yet delicious. Dirty-cute, through and through.
"Clementine, I think you're scared to say exactly what you want. Maybe it's because you've been burned too many times in the past, but darling, I know what you want. And I know what you are."
"What's that?" I ask, the words airy on my lips and I feel caught up in this man's spell.
Mike tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He turns my cheek, so his mouth is pressed tight to my ear, so he can whisper words only meant for me. "You're mine, Clementine." Then he takes my hand, pulls me to stand, and wraps his arm around my waist. "And it's time we got out of here."
