Текст книги "When We Met"
Автор книги: Christina Lee
Соавторы: Molly McAdams,A. L. Jackson,Tiffany King
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
“Are you—”
“Yes,” I said, cutting him off. “I want this. I want you.”
Leaning forward, I teased his lips as I climbed onto the bed, placing a knee on either side of him. He smiled through the kiss and scooted back on the bed before lying down and bringing me closer to him. I took the tie out of my hair, letting it fall down around my shoulders and back as I curled my body over Kier’s and positioned myself above him. He ran his hands through my hair, letting them trail down my waist to my hips, his fingers flexing against the skin when he got there, and then he guided me down on top of him.
Kier groaned as I took him inch by inch, and when I was fully seated on him, he kept me there—not moving—as his eyes held mine, his chest rising and falling heavily before he quickly sat up, crushing his mouth to mine.
A surprised gasp left me and turned into a laugh, and then a moan when he gripped my hips harder and moved me off him, only to push me right back down.
“Oh God,” I whimpered against his lips as I took control and started moving on top of him.
Soon kissing became too difficult as we struggled to breathe, and I pressed my forehead to his seconds before Kier rolled us over. Dropping his head into the crook of my neck, he trailed his hand up my leg to curl around my knee, bringing it up around his hip as he moved inside me. His pace quickened and his grip on my body tightened before he stilled above me as he found his release.
As his body slowly relaxed, he placed a line of kisses across my collarbone and up my throat until he reached my lips, his body stilling when he saw the tears in my eyes. “Are you okay?”
I brushed my hands through his hair and smiled against his lips. “More than okay.”
“Indy,” he crooned, and cupped my cheeks. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
My head shook back and forth as I tried to find the right words to say, and finally I just locked my eyes with his and whispered, “Thank you for saving me.”
His body sagged in relief, and he kissed me soundly. “I’ll always save you.”
fouling out
Tiffany King
chapter one
Courtney
“What can I get you?”
“How about something hot and spicy like you?”
“Really? That’s the best line you got?” I asked the guy who’d been hitting on me the last couple of nights. “I think I heard that one from a balding used car salesman back in high school when I waited tables at Denny’s.”
His friends, who’d been egging him on a few seconds ago, hooted with laughter. “Dude, I told you you’d be toast again,” one of them said, clapping him on the back.
Mr. Flirt didn’t seem to mind the razzing, shooting me a slow grin as he sat back in his seat. I bit back a snort. Guys were so typical. They gave you a little wink and a smile and somehow convinced themselves your panties would drop. I played the game, though, and gave him a coy smile in return. “Besides, you’re not ready for this kind of heat. I’ll bring you some volcano wings,” I added, bumping his shoulder with my hip. Just the mere suggestion that he had any kind of chance lifted his spirits once again as everyone at the table high-fived like they had just scored some sort of victory. It was all part of the waitressing game. Tease them just enough that they keep coming back for more, all in the name of good tips. It really wasn’t much of a hardship for me. I’d been waitressing since I was fifteen, so I was a pro at working the customer. Not that I didn’t deserve the tips I earned. I worked my ass off, always had. Even back in high school, my manager at Denny’s loved me because I never called in sick or missed a shift. At fifteen, I’d been more responsible than most of the employees he kept on staff.
Things were the same at Gruby’s, the loudest and busiest sports pub around campus. I’d only been working here for a couple of months, but my manager, Chris, pretty much gave me any hours I wanted. With money always so tight, if I wasn’t in class or sleeping, I tried to be here, squeezing in homework and studying during breaks. The holidays had basically wiped me out financially, so I’d been working nonstop since Christmas. For the past three weeks, the only time I’d seen my three roommates was to say a quick good-bye on my way out, or a tired good night when I got home. Lately, the house we all shared had become nothing more than a place for me to shower and then fall into bed.
I finished taking the guys’ orders around several more innuendos before walking away. I could feel their eyes all over my ass without turning around to look.
“How’s it going?” my best friend and fellow waitress, Amanda, asked, grabbing a bottle of ketchup from the servers’ station.
“Typical. They’re all God’s gift to women with heaven in their pants.”
“It’s jock syndrome. Don’t you just love basketball season? I swear this school acts like the sun rises and sets on their players’ asses.”
“It’s all about the money, babe. The university isn’t stupid.” Not that I didn’t agree with Amanda, one hundred percent.
“Preach it, sister.”
Amanda was putting on a show for my benefit. I knew from experience that she was all about the basketball team. She was one of those hard-core supporters who painted her cheeks for every game and cheered as loud as anyone when the games were televised on the big screens scattered throughout the restaurant.
“Who are you trying to kid? We all know you love the players in more ways than one,” I teased, wagging my eyebrows. I filled my drink order and placed the glasses on the round tray I was expertly balancing on my hip. “I bet you’re already scouting for your next recruit.”
She grinned. “Well, now that you mention it . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder.
“Come on. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I’ll fill you in later. I need to deliver this check to table six before they have a fit.”
I shook my head, watching her walk away. Over the past year that we’d been friends, I’d watched her fall for at least half a dozen guys. She claimed dating someone taller than her was a must, which was why she always went for athletes, especially basketball players. I tried to put myself in her shoes, but I couldn’t see anything bad about being a long-legged five-foot-nine goddess. At five foot nothing, I was shorter than pretty much every guy on campus. Mom called me pixie cute, which was a nice way of saying I was short.
After delivering drinks to the flirty table, I headed over to greet another group that had been seated in my section. Within twenty minutes, the restaurant was packed as the dinner rush began. Amanda and I didn’t have another chance to talk other than to exchange notes on particularly difficult tables, especially those that felt the need to be touchy-feely. Ass grabbers were nothing new. Gruby’s was located on the outskirts of campus, so it attracted a combination of college students and local residents. Mainly middle-aged men sporting beer guts and receding hairlines believing they still had enough game to close a piece of college ass. That is, if they ever had any game in the first place. They were usually the best tippers, but the problem was you had to put up with a lot more shit, including “accidental” ass grazes or boob brushes. They were all the same. Most didn’t even try to hide their wedding rings. Of course, the waitstaff at Gruby’s had our own way of keeping them in line, like spilling drinks in their laps, or a plate of food in the crotch if they’d taken too many liberties with their hands. Thankfully it didn’t have to come to that very often. A little flirty banter was usually all it took to keep any guy in check, no matter how old he was.
Five hours into my shift and my feet were begging for a break. Today had been a long fourteen-hour marathon. An early cram session at the library had me out of the house earlier than normal, followed by art history class and then more studying before my final class of the day.
As the dinner crowd slowly trickled away, I stood out of view of the few remaining patrons and rolled my shoulders, trying to work out a kink in my neck. Feeling marginally better, I left the drink station to hand over the check to what would hopefully be my last customer of the night.
As luck would have it, Felicia, everyone’s least favorite hostess, squashed that thought as she walked by. “Hey, Court. I just sat another group at table twelve in your zone.” Like I needed her to tell me table twelve was in my zone. I had worked here long enough to know the layout of the dining area.
That was Felicia. She was a witch who had an annoying habit of telling everyone how to do their jobs. Worst of all was the way she would brag about how they used to do things at the last sports bar where she’d worked. After several not-so-subtle hints, Amanda had finally told her to go back to her last place if it was so fabulous because maybe she’d be happier there. Felicia missed the hint. She was on the verge of having her mouth taped closed, but thankfully we felt her days were numbered since she’d called in sick twice in two weeks. Chris had a low tolerance for employees who missed shifts. We were already planning the celebration party.
I straightened up and pasted a smile on my face to greet my new table.
“Welcome to Gruby’s. I’m Courtney, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Drafts are buy one, get one for another twenty minutes,” I parroted, finally looking at the occupants as I pulled my notepad from the pocket of my half apron. My eyes widened and my mouth went dry when I took in the group sitting at the table. Actually it was because of one person in particular. I knew there was a chance this day would come. I was just hoping to be better prepared for it.
Dalton Thompson, my first best friend and onetime crush, sat in front of me, flashing his signature grin that I knew all too well. It had been years since that grin was aimed in my direction, but it was forever burned in my brain. Not that I could forget it, considering where I went to school. That same cheeky smile could be found on banners splashed all over campus, along with local TV news stations and even the national sports channels. Dalton was the face of the university’s basketball team. After he’d won two state championships in high school, every big-time program in the country wanted Dalton, but he chose to stay home and play for Michigan. He was practically a legend to everyone in the local community, and one day in the not too distant future would be a top ten pick in the pros. To me, he was so much more. At least, he was at one time. When I decided to attend the same college as Dalton, I figured I was safe because the chances of us running into each other were pretty slim, and yet here we were.
chapter two
Dalton
“I’ll take the Gruby’s burger, medium, and an extra order of fries.” I handed over the menu to Courtney Leighton, recognizing her right away even though I hadn’t seen her in years. We were best friends when we were kids. Then we drifted apart and it was like she became a ghost. We stopped talking and even though we went to the same schools, we never seemed to see each other.
Checking her out now in her short skirt and tight black T-shirt, I was surprised at how much she had changed. She definitely wasn’t the tomboy I remembered who used to climb trees with me or trade Pokémon cards. She was still short, but her body had developed and filled out the package nicely. Who would ever have thought she’d grow up to be such a knockout? As a matter of fact, the longer she stood in front of me, the cuter she was getting. The height difference might be weird. I bet if I stood up she’d barely reach my chest, which actually could make for some interesting possibilities. She had a tiny waist with a gorgeous ass that looked like it had been crafted for my big hands. Not to mention she was completely stacked. I shifted in my seat since I was suddenly more than a little turned on just looking at her. I needed to get a grip. This was Courtney. How weird would it be if we hooked up after all these years?
She took everyone else’s orders but still hadn’t looked at me. It was like she didn’t recognize me. I remember being pretty bummed back in seventh grade when we started drifting apart, but at the time my dad was riding my ass hard, claiming my days of screwing off were over and that I had to get serious about my game. After that, he made sure I had no time for anything in my life except basketball.
“Anything else?” Courtney asked, finally looking at me like she was bored.
Her expression threw me off. Maybe she did recognize me and just didn’t care or was too embarrassed to say anything. Even though this was a different situation, I’d had my fair share of awkward encounters with women. I always tried to be up front with any girl I met, but sometimes they wanted more than I could give them. Unfortunately basketball took up the majority of the free time I had after classes. That was why I’d never gotten serious with anyone. I never made false promises about where any relationship was going. Up to this point most ladies had been cool with that.
I decided to go for broke. “It’s good to see you, Courtney.”
“Hey, Dalton.” She looked extremely uncomfortable. I guess that answered my question as to whether she remembered me.
“It’s been a long time. Do you go to Michigan?” I was doing my best to break the ice, but she still wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Yeah, I do. I’ll get your orders in.” She hastily tucked the menus under her arm and flashed the others a smile before hurrying away. I got nothing.
“That was a little cold. Is she an ex or something?” Collin asked once she was out of earshot.
“Man, I wish I could have ordered a beer,” Dave muttered.
“Nah, we knew each other way back in grade school,” I answered. “And don’t even think about it, Dave. You never know who’s watching.” Coach had laid down the law now that the season was heating up. No drinking and no staying up late chasing ass. Dave, who was hoping to get more court time, had taken those words to heart. He’d given up partying and even dumped Jessica, his girlfriend for the past six months. That was why we came to Gruby’s tonight. We hadn’t been here in a couple of months and figured good food and hot waitresses in skimpy uniforms would do him some good.
“That’s cool. Talk about some small-world shit, though,” Collin commented about Courtney. “I had to ask to make sure I wasn’t about to eat a burger that had been dunked in toilet water or something, you know?”
“Damn, dude. Give me a little credit. I’ve never had a chick hate me that bad.”
“My ass. You don’t remember—damn, what was her name?” He paused, snapping his fingers. “We called her Black Widow.”
I slapped the table, nearly falling backward out of my chair. “Oh, shit. You mean Aubrey. Okay, but she was crazy.” Collin did have a point, though. Aubrey was cool at first, but after a while I had to cut it off because she got seriously possessive. She would pick fights with chicks that did nothing but look at me. After I told her we were done, she spray-painted the word asshole down the entire hallway of the dorm where I lived at the time.
“This fucking sucks,” Dave whined, checking his phone for a text that obviously hadn’t come in. He tossed the phone on the table like a total pussy.
“Dude, I don’t think Coach meant you needed to break up with your lady. He just didn’t want anyone hanging out at the bars all night trying to score,” I pointed out as he picked up his phone on the off chance a message had come through in the two seconds it was out of his hand.
“Yeah, you look like a total pussy whip,” Collin added, elbowing him.
“Fuck off, Collin,” he said as Courtney approached the table carrying our drinks.
I flashed her a smile when our eyes met, but her glance slid right on by like she wasn’t even aware I was there.
“Here you go.” She smiled at Dave as she handed him his Coke. Collin got the same greeting, but when Courtney turned to me, her face was blank.
“Thanks,” I said as she set my drink down. She nodded in response but turned back to Collin and Dave. “Your food should be up in a few minutes. If you need anything, ring the buzzer,” she said to them, pointing at the buzzer attached to the wall. It was supposed to sound like the time-out buzzers at the arena, but it sounded more like some annoying horn you’d find in a smart car or something.
My eyes focused on Courtney’s backside as she walked away. I’m not going to lie. I was completely puzzled by her attitude toward me. Collin was right. She was acting like someone I’d had a bad breakup from, not someone I had once been friends with. Sure, it was a long time ago. Hell, she was the first girl I’d ever kissed. Although calling it a kiss was a stretch. It was more like me awkwardly smashing my lips against hers without asking when we were ten years old. We were watching a movie at her house and I took a shot. Courtney retaliated by socking me in the arm. I never tried to kiss her again after that.
chapter three
Courtney
“Hey, Chuck, how much longer on my order?” I drummed my fingers on the serving counter, staring off into space in the crowded kitchen.
“Coming up.”
I was so ready for the evening to be over, and past ready to get rid of Dalton. Having him grin at me and act like we were still friends was making me shaky and off-kilter. Obviously he didn’t remember how he’d tossed me aside like I was no longer important. He moved on, leaving me behind without my best friend. More important, I was confused about the feelings I had started having for him. One moment I was daydreaming about us becoming boyfriend and girlfriend and then, poof, he was gone.
I had tried convincing myself I hated him for ditching me, but I couldn’t do it. I had a crush. What could I say? Over the years I’d watched him from afar, but we never really ran in the same circles again. In eighth grade his talent on the court earned him a lot of attention, and in high school basketball had made him a legitimate star. When I saw him in the hallways, he always seemed to have a new girl on his arm. I found my own circle of friends in high school, and eventually I realized I had romanticized our friendship into something it wasn’t and I got over him.
Facing him now while he attempted to flirt with me like I was a typical girl he’d just met was seriously screwing with my head. I could see why girls were into him. It took all my concentration to ignore his come-hither looks and deep, sexy voice. How one person could be blessed with so many gifts was beyond me. Most men would trade their left nut for even a smidge of his talent on the basketball court, but combining that with rugged good looks and a voice that would make any girl’s panties wet was just unfair.
Amanda interrupted my inner whine-fest, snagging a fry from one of the plates waiting to go out. “So, how’s it going?”
I smacked her hand without hesitation, making the fry drop to the floor.
“Hey.” She reached for another in spite of her complaint, but I slid the plate out of her reach.
“You know Chris will have your head if he sees you munching off the customers’ plates.” I didn’t know why I had to remind her. She knew the rules as well as I did.
She pouted, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re such a brownnoser.”
“And you should know how gross that is. I’d hurl if I found out someone had their fingers in my food. You know Chuck would make you something if you asked.”
“I don’t want a whole dish of something. I’m on a diet, hence why I was only after one fry.” She patted her model-thin waist for emphasis. I was tempted to throat-punch her. I wasn’t fat. I just had more curves than I would have preferred. My waist was tiny, but my ass seemed determined to be seen. I was okay with my boobs being on the larger side, although at times I worried they were too large for my frame. Maybe I wouldn’t mind my figure as much if I were taller. Being five foot nothing made my hourglass curves look like they had been smooshed in a compactor.
“Thanks, Chuck,” I said, placing the last plate from my order on my tray.
He tipped his chef’s hat in response. “Anytime, sweetheart.”
“I saw that you lucked out with table twelve,” Amanda said, opening a package of saltines since I had deflected her attempts at taking a fry.
I balanced the heavy tray on my palm before heading for the swinging door to the dining area. “Lucked out?” I asked incredulously before reminding myself that she knew nothing about my history with Dalton. In the year and a half that Amanda and I had been friends, I never once let on that I knew Dalton before he became the basketball savior of the university.
“Are you kidding? You’re waiting on my own version of a dream team there.” She shot a lustful look toward my zone.
Understanding dawned on me at seeing her hooded eyes. “Of course.” Her next fascination was sitting at the table. For a horrible moment I wondered if it was Dalton. Not that it should matter. Dalton wasn’t mine. He never had been.
I returned to their table with their food, resolved to make the best of the situation.
“So, how have you been?” Dalton asked as I dished out their plates. “It’s been ages since we had a chance to talk.”
“I guess some of us just got busy.” My answer had a little more snap, despite my intent to play it cool.
He frowned, rubbing a hand over his head. It was a habit I remembered him doing when we were kids. It meant he was confused. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I excused myself, telling them I would be back in a few minutes to refill their drinks.
Somehow I managed to keep it together for the rest of the service. I checked on them a few times and inquired about dessert, but I could barely suppress the pent-up breath I’d been holding when they paid their checks and headed out.
After Gruby’s finally closed for the evening, I spent the last hour of my shift doing side work and cleaning the restaurant with Amanda and Chuck while Chris headed to the office to take care of whatever managers did. Chuck handled the kitchen and prepared a bucket of water for Amanda, who tried to bribe me into taking her turn at mopping. Throughout our closing duties, I finally learned that Amanda had set her sights on Collin. I didn’t know anything about him other than having just served him, but Amanda was absolutely gaga.
Once the restaurant was prepped for the following day, we all headed out together. Amanda followed me to my car since I was her ride home. She was from sunny Phoenix and had chosen to leave her car with her parents while she attended school in Michigan. I’d become her unofficial chauffeur after we became friends. I didn’t mind as long as she didn’t complain about Lucy, my car. Lucy was old and had been labeled a piece of crap by Earl, the mechanic I’d been taking her to for years. “Don’t call her that,” I had to chastise him every time I took Lucy for an oil change. “You’ll hurt her feelings. She may be older than all the other cars you work on, but she’s the toughest,” I’d point out, patting her rusty hood. I loved Lucy. I purchased her after I turned sixteen. I logged more hours at Denny’s than I cared to think about and even fit in some babysitting jobs on the side, all so I could buy Lucy free and clear. She might not be as pretty as she once was, but she sure as hell was reliable. I’d kick anyone’s ass that dared to argue.
“Gaaaaaaaaah, what is with the heat in this car?” Amanda wrapped a scarf around her neck and face until only her eyes and forehead were visible. I should have expected her to complain considering the frigid nighttime temperature.
I fiddled with the controls, hoping to coax a little more heat from the vents to pacify her. “You mean Lucy, and she doesn’t want to spoil you.” Lucy was a bit temperamental when it came to certain things, like heat and air-conditioning. Both wheezed from her vents like she was struggling to breathe. Earl claimed it was because she was going to drop dead at any moment. He’d been saying it for years, so I didn’t put much stock in his words. Deep down I think he liked Lucy.
By the time I pulled up to Amanda’s dorm building on the east end of campus, Lucy was slightly warmer than the current temperature outside, but Amanda’s teeth were still chattering. “I’m buying a blanket to keep in here.”
“It could be worse. You could be freezing your ass off waiting for the bus,” I reminded her, smiling sweetly as she stuck out her tongue before slamming the door so it would close properly. Lucy was a bit temperamental about that, too.
Whipping a U-turn, I headed toward Hamilton Street, where I shared a house with my friends Indy, Misha, and Chloe. We’d been strangers when we all moved into the cute house, but we quickly found out how well we meshed.
All the lights except the living room appeared to be off at Hamilton House, which was the name we christened our abode with when we moved in. (I wasn’t the only one who liked to name inanimate objects.) I pulled into the driveway, parking Lucy in my usual spot in front of the house, and got out to trudge through the foot of snow that had been too stubborn to melt since Mother Nature dumped it on us the previous week. I slid my key into the lock and stomped the snow from my boots before quietly pushing the door open. It was almost one a.m., which was the only downfall to working at Gruby’s. Thankfully my earliest classes were at ten on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The other days I didn’t have anything until noon, so I was able to get some sleep in.
Misha was on the couch reading a thick novel with her boyfriend’s head in her lap as I quietly closed the front door behind me. “Hey,” she greeted me softly after sticking a bookmark between the pages.
“Hey, what are you guys doing up so late? Don’t you have class at like eight tomorrow morning?” Placing my gloves and hat in the pockets, I hung my heavy pea coat on the rack by the door, draping my scarf on the hook along with it. It was a routine Mom had trained me into years ago after I kept coming home with either my hat or one of my mittens missing. Raising a kid on a shoestring budget meant every cent counted, so lost mittens and hats were never a good thing. Mom had a good job that she loved at the Department of Children and Families, but the pay sucked. Still she had always managed to stretch the money so I never went without. Not that designer clothes or electronic gadgets ever showed up under our Christmas tree, but I never missed them. I admired Mom greatly for the work she did. Lots of kids were less fortunate than I was.
“The class was canceled, so I figured I’d catch up on a little reading. I’ve been dying to finish this new novel.” She stroked a hand over Darryn’s forehead, gently waking him.
“Lucky you. I wish one of my classes would get canceled. Professor Zeal is trying pretty damned hard to ruin early American history for me. He couldn’t be any more boring if he decided to start showing bowling videos in class. His voice is the most monotone thing I’ve ever heard.”
Misha chuckled as Darryn opened his eyes and grinned sleepily at me. “Consider it future practice for when you’re poring over classic art or whatever other things you would do as a museum curator.”
“But that won’t be boring. That will be—” My words ended with a sigh. My lifelong dream of working in an art museum seemed distant at the moment. Getting through the required classes had become daunting. Who knew history professors would be so freaking boring?
“Don’t worry. You got this. You ready for bed, babe?” she asked Darryn, rising from the couch and reaching down to help him up. He stretched and yawned before draping an arm across Misha’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Are you heading to bed, too?”
“Yeah, after I wash the fried food stench off me.” She clicked off the lamp in the living room as I walked away, waving.
The sounds of smooching filled the darkness almost immediately. They were a cute couple, and I loved Misha to death. I was happy for her. I switched on the hallway light so I wouldn’t kill myself walking down the hall. “You guys have fun.”
“Night, Court,” they said in unison, which would have been nauseating coming from any other couple.
“Night, MD.” I could hear more face sucking as I headed wearily toward the bathroom. Hence the nickname. They were always attached at the hip anyway. Admittedly I felt a tad envious even though I had no energy for a boyfriend. The only thing on my agenda was a shower and bed. Not that thoughts of Dalton hadn’t crept into my head. I was sure tonight wouldn’t be the last time I saw him. I would do my best to avoid him from now on, and we could continue on the separate paths our lives had taken.
* * *
Early American history the next morning proved to be as boring as always. Taking endless notes on my iPad while Professor Zeal droned on about the first transcontinental railroad would have been interesting if he could have injected any kind of enthusiasm into his voice.
My afternoon was spent in the campus library working on a paper I had due the following week. I got so wrapped up in research I nearly forgot to head to work. Luckily I managed to make it through the front doors of Gruby’s at five o’clock on the nose, despite the snow flutters that had started midday.
“Wow, for a minute there I thought you were going to be late,” Jill, one of the hostesses, greeted me as I walked in shaking a light layer of snow off my jacket.
I grinned, knowing I had probably ruined a bet for someone. “I’m never late,” I said, draping my jacket over my arm and heading to the back room to stow my belongings.
“It could happen,” Jill called after me before turning to greet three middle-aged men dressed in business suits.
Her words cracked me up. The staff had a standing bet on when and if I’d ever show up late. In all the years that I had been out in the workforce, I’d never been late. Only once when I was a teenager and working at Denny’s had I ever called in, and that was because my mom was sick with pneumonia and refused to go see a doctor. I practically bullied her into going, and had to drive her there myself to be sure.