AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER THREE
Friday, June 4
At six o’clock thefollowing morning, I jump on my stationary bike for my daily virtual spin class. I wash my laundry, mail out six more resumes and cover letters, apply online for three more positions, make a grocery list, change the sheets on my bed and try not to think about Connor.
I spend all morning debating whether or not to accept his invitation. Was it even an invitation? It had sounded more like a command. But a command for what? Did he want to see me again? Or did he just want me to return his niece’s clothing? Ugh, I wish I were better at deciphering this whole flirting thing.
I glance down at the jeans and T-shirt neatly folded on the kitchen table. I made a note of the brand of the jeans, but couldn’t find them online anywhere. I have to admit I’m tempted to keep them. They’re buttery soft. The seams don’t pinch, and they fit like they were made for my curves — or my lack thereof. When I look at myself in the mirror, I usually feel like I have the figure of a twelve-year-old boy. But in these babies, I feel like a sex goddess. Curvy, sultry and alluring. The kind of woman who gets kissed in broad daylight in front of bars on the streets of Atlanta. The kind of woman that could totally give in and be taken under by this wave of attraction I have for Connor Rose.
I’m almost worried that if I do go meet him, he’ll feel like he’s conquered me somehow, and I don’t want to be a woman who can be conquered with a growl and a kiss. Do I? If I don’t go, then … oh, what the heck am I saying? I’m totally going to go. If there’s even the slimmest possibility that he’ll kiss me like he did yesterday, I’d travel to the far corners of the globe to meet him.
I glance at the clock. It’s already after ten. I take a shower and then get dressed, donning the jeans again. If he wants them back, he’ll have to take them off of me. Now, there’s a thought that has my Inner Sex Goddess brushing off seven years of dust from her book of “how-tos.”
A sign on the bar’s front door says it’s closed and reserved for a private party, and it will open at three. But inside, the place looks dark. I give a sharp knock and see Connor’s broad frame begin to emerge from the shadows.
I’m ten minutes late. On purpose. I can’t have him thinking I’m too eager. Although I was dressed and ready at eleven. Man, I really suck at this.
He greets me with a warm smile, and my heart instantly begins to flutter. I study his mouth and the curve of his lips, remembering the way they felt on mine. He’s got a three-day stubble around his jawline that’s super sexy and his hair isn’t tied back today. It’s soft and slightly wavy and falls just past his shoulders in long dark blond locks just like I knew it would.
“Hey Lainey Bird, I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.” He gives me that happy little smirk of his. It’s his smile that’s melting me into a puddle right now, not the oppressive Georgia summer heat. I need to keep my guard up with Connor. He’s complete kryptonite.
I smile and walk through the door that he’s opened widely in invitation for me to come in further. Inside, I am immediately assaulted with the pungent smell of baking yeast dough, fresh garlic and melting cheese. My stomach growls and my Inner Foodie salivates. I’ve eaten two meals with Connor Rose and both have been stellar.
We walk through to a large corner booth toward the back of the restaurant and I see another large man emerge from the kitchen wearing a chef’s toque and a long white apron. He’s covered in flour and has a red sauce smear on his cheek. He smiles and I feel my eyes grow wide. I know this man. Hell, everyone on the planet knows this man. Posters of him and his rock band papered my high school bedroom.
“Ox Carr?” I gush, feeling my Inner Fangirl start to reach for her pom-poms. “You’re Ox Carr!” I stare, mouth agape, at the lead rocker of the world-famous band,Climax. Fangirl is now in full-on cheer mode as I feel my heartbeat ratchet up a notch and a pulsing heat sink into my cheeks and neck.
“Bryan Carmichael,” he corrects and extends his hand. “But you can call me Ox."
“Ox, I’d like you to meet my Lainey Bird,” Connor says behind me. I can tell by the smile on his face that his inner Tarzan is totally laughing at Fangirl. Thankfully, she is unfazed. How on earth am I standing in the same room with Ox Carr?
Ox is built exactly as his name would imply. He’s tall, pushing six-foot-six if I had to guess. He’s at least a few inches taller than Connor. And he’s broad and thick. Colorful ink swirls over his arms and neck. Blond hair, now streaked with a bit of gray, falls in waves around his face and down past his shoulders. He has deep creases around his green eyes that fold into happy crinkles when he smiles. He’s older than he was back whenClimaxwas in its heyday, but every bit as hot. Sexy has no expiration date on this man.
“Nice to meet you. Connor didn’t tell me he’d invited a friend.” Ox replies to me as if I’m not completely drooling over him. Which, of course, I am.
Fangirl deflates. “Oh?” I look back to Connor. Shit. He did just want me to give back the clothes. “I’m sorry if I’m imposing, I …”
“I don’t tell you every detail of my life, Ox,” Connor cuts in. “Now, how much longer on those pies. I’m starving.” Connor slides behind the bar, filling four glasses with ice and what looks like some sort of soda. Connor’s huge hands easily grip all four glasses and he carries them to the back booth.
Ox glances down at his watch. “Seven minutes and twenty-three seconds,” he announces.
“Ox here makes the best deep-dish pizza you’ve ever had. You eat pizza, don’t you, Lainey Bird?” Connor gives me a wink.
“Connor,” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper and hustle closer to the bar where he stands. “If you just wanted the clothes back, you should have told me. I can see you’re busy. I can drop these and …”
“Don’t you remember? I invited you yesterday, Lainey. You don’t want to stay and have lunch with me and a has-been rocker?”
I cock my head to the side and give him a skeptical look.
“My pizza’s great. You’re staying.” Ox says and turns to go back behind the swinging stainless steel door to, what I assume, is the kitchen. “And I’m not a has-been, asshole,” he adds in a sing-song voice from behind the door.
As his voice fades, a woman pushes through the front door. She’s stunning with long black hair that flows down her back in loose curls. Her eyes are the same fierce blue as Connor’s. She’s almost as tall as he is, too, with strong arms and a lean torso. She’s wearing black leather pants and a flowing tank in some sort of silver-gray that makes her look almost magical.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she says. Her voice sounds like a melody. She kisses Connor on the cheek and hollers to Ox in the kitchen. “I’m here, babe.”
“Be right out … five minutes and sixteen seconds,” he calls back.
“He’s got it timed to the second,” Connor explains, stepping to the side to reveal me to the new dining companion.
