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“Pleasing my father doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. Especially when disappointment is a common feeling my father harbors for me. I didn’t play his pawn and go through with the wedding, so he’s not very happy,” I say, and want to take the words back the minute they are out.
“I’m sure you know exactly how to please.” He emphasizes the please in his statement. And his words feel dirty, the best kind of dirty.
“Do you live around here?” I ask, nodding behind him. When I bring my eyes back to him, I can’t help but track them down his abs again. “Where’s your shirt?”
“I was about to work out, but the noise.” He nods back to the house. The party hasn’t calmed at all. “Why are you here?”
“I’m rebelling.” I smile.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“If you say so.” I smile. And when I do, I know tonight, something just changed for me.
In more ways than one.
CHAPTER 3
LOTTIE
“You should invite me in for a drink.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. He raises a perfect brow and locks eyes with mine.
“Do you think that’s wise, kid?” He always used to call me kid when he came over. I assumed it was because he didn’t know my name, but now I’m thinking it was something else entirely.
“Do I look like a kid to you?” I ask as I step backward, spinning around in a circle. When I stop moving, my hands fall to my hips, and I look him dead in the eyes.
His eyes slowly trail over my body as I twirl, and something heated passes over his expression. He reaches over and stops me.
“No, you certainly don’t look like a kid.” A smile tugs on my lips as he turns without saying a word and stalks back to his house.
I don’t budge, confused. That is until he stops and yells over his shoulder.
“Come on woman, let’s go!”
I falter at his words but follow him, the leaves crunching under my boots. He stays a few strides ahead of me but stills when he reaches the front door, and holds it open for me. I step in and stop, seeing white marble flooring as I look down at my docs.
“Should I take my shoes off?”
“Yes.” He drops down in a crouching position, and his hand comes up and reaches for the back of my calf. What is he doing? He lifts it, placing one boot on his thigh as he starts to undo the lace. I’m too stunned to form words, so I settle by following his lead.
Not once has he looked up my skirt, which in his position, he could easily see from his vantage point I am not wearing any underwear. I want him to look, and I am also really hoping he no longer sees me as the kid he once knew but a woman standing in front of him. When he pulls off the boot, I see a small smile form on his lips, and he lets out a laugh just as he reaches for my other foot.
“What’s funny?” I ask him.
“Your socks have bunnies on them.”
“I like bunnies,” I tell him. “It’s the ears, you know. Cute.”
He pulls the second off and stands, and unfortunately, he doesn’t look up my skirt. I kind of wish he did.
“Cute.” Those are not the words I was hoping for. Cute is not sexy. And cute is not how I want Whiskey picturing me. He turns and walks off into his house, not waiting for me to reply.
“But I thought we came here for a drink,” I tell him.
“I think you have had enough to drink,” he says with authority.
“Is that so? What if I want more?” My hand goes to my hip, and his eyes fall to my hand.
“It’s not going to happen,” he says. “You’re welcome to join me.”
