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“Okay, well, promise me this. If there’s no chemistry between you and Mr. Biceps out there, you’ll walk away.”
Kristen remembered the way she’d felt a rush of warmth as his gaze had slid over her. The way she’d gotten a little breathless when she’d imagined kissing him.
Chemistry wasn’t likely to be a problem. “I promise.”
Tori slid away from the counter and squeezed Kristen’s shoulder. “Well then, let’s get another beer in you for liquid courage and do this already.”
*
Had it beenan hour yet? Surely, he could duck out early?
Blake dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and checked the time. Not even nine-thirty. He’d only made it thirty minutes.
He looked around the room, searching for a way out of the conversation with the genetic engineer who’d been talking his ear off for the last ten minutes.
Shit.
Getting to hang out with Jack was always a win, but not being big on the party scene meant moments like these bordered on uncomfortable.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You said you’d dance with me.”
The soft, feminine voice behind him had the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. The engineer’s voice became a muffled drone as Blake slowly turned his head.
The short blonde smiled up at him, offering him the lifeline he desperately needed.
“I did.” He turned back to the engineer and gave him a friendly smile. “Good talking with you, man.”
Blake caught the blonde’s hand in his own and tugged her toward the portion of the living room that had been deemed the dance area.
The music seemed to be on some kind of ’80s playlist, and a Madonna ballad currently played. Kristen didn’t shy away when he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close.
He drew in the scent of her perfume, some kind of subtle tropical-fruit smell.
“Thanks for that.”
She smiled. “You looked pretty miserable, and rescuing people is kind of my hobby.”
He arched a brow, lips twitching in amusement. “You don’t say. It’s my job.”
Eyes that were a deep shade of coffee widened in surprise. “Oh yeah? What job is that exactly?”
“Firefighter slash paramedic. Though mostly doing the paramedic side lately.”
She gave another low, husky laugh. “Of course. And why wouldn’t the sexiest guy in the room be a firefighting paramedic?”
If there was any doubt that she’d been hitting on him, she erased it with that last comment.
He took in every detail about her again. Usually, she wouldn’t have been his type. Too petite when he liked them taller. Blonde when he had a thing for brunettes. Minimal makeup when his usual type didn’t leave the house without being fully made up.
But none of that seemed to matter. Cute in an understated way, and not a damn thing about her screamed high maintenance. It was refreshing.
“What’s your name, hero?”
“Blake. And you are…?”
She seemed to hesitate, maybe not quite sure she wanted to divulge that info, but then she softly said, “Kristen.”
Cute name. It fit her. “Are you a student?”
