Page 39 of The Charm of You

“You kept the jackass waiting for an answer to a proposal. He wasn’t asking you to prom or to dinner sometime. He was asking you to marry him, and you made him come all the way down here for a damn answer. You truly believe the world revolves around your every whim, don’t you?”

“You don’t know me, Austin.” Her eyes blaze with the flame that flickered there yesterday—the same one that had my nuts in a choke hold.

Is she going to yell at me again? Why does the possibility make me so happy? I’ve lost my fucking mind.

“I know enough.” I shrug. “Why are you here?”

“My car needs an oil change, remember? We agreed I’d come by this week.”

“I thought you meant Thursday or Friday before your chariot departs the state.”

“I thought it best I come right away.”

“Because you just couldn’t wait to tell me about your non-fiancé? Why would I care?”

Her hands fall from her cardigan, and the material opens at her waist again, revealing that damn line of skin above her jeans. To top it off, her shirt is tight around her ample breasts, and my stupid mouth waters like I turned a faucet on in there.

“You and I almost kissed last night, and I owe you an explanation.” She marches toward me, dropping the last of any hesitation she had when she first tiptoed into the shop.

I tighten my jaw so hard only heavy machinery could pry it open.

“I’m taking my lunch break,” Rose calls out, interrupting this little standoff. She doesn’t stop to say more or have a look around. I’m not even sure she notices Caroline—that’s a first.

Once Rose is gone, Caroline and I are completely alone. No one else remains in the shop, and I’m frustratingly aware of that fact.

“I wasn’t thinking straight last night,” Caroline says, her voice a lower octave, but it’s no less firm than before. “You and I were dancing, and I got caught up in the moment. I mean, I wanted to kiss you, but it would’ve been wrong. I?—”

“I wasn’t going to kiss you, Homecoming Queen.” I swipe my plastic bottle of water, and it crinkles between us as I take a large gulp.

She tilts her head to the side with an unwavering expression of disbelief that might be comical if I weren’t agitated as shit. “You were going to kiss me,” she argues. “I know what a near-kiss looks like, and that was it.”

I scoff. “You think very highly of yourself if you believe I had any interest in kissing you. The idea alone is a joke. Nothing else—not even live bait or the mold growing in the corner behind you—makes me as nauseas as the thought of kissing someone as uptight and oblivious and annoying as you.”

Caroline’s face twists in a way more suitable for cartoons. I didn’t know humans could make such a face. She doesn’t back down, either, and I can’t deny that it draws me toward her even more. It’s like my stubbornness is attracted to her stubbornness.

She juts her chin up in defiance. “If I kissed you right now, you’re telling me it would have zero effect on you?”

My traitorous voice is hoarse and weak when I say, “That’s exactly what I’m saying, so I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m sure you wanted to show your uppity non-fiancé with his stupid suit that you can do a lot better, but I’m not playing your little games.”

We closed the distance between us sometime during our scuffle. Her sweet perfume consumes me, as do the swirling sparks in her blue eyes. They’re like bolts of lightning. Shadows cross her irises like clouds across the sky when a storm is brewing, and my muscles tense.

Her gaze bores into mine for a beat, then dips lower until it locks onto my mouth.

I don’t know which one of us moves first. Maybe we move in sync. In a blink, her delicate hands are on my face, and my mouth is crushed onto hers as we succumb to whatever this undeniable thing is between us.

I ram my rough fingers through her silky strands and harshly kiss her soft lips, punishing her for twisting my fucking nerves into a puzzle of need.

I don’t want to need her, but I can’t stop myself, either.

I thrust my tongue between her lips, moving it against her own as if we’re still arguing and fighting.

We break apart at once and glare at each other.

“See?” I rasp, and it’s followed by an audible swallow. “I feel nothing.”

“Me… neither.” Her own gulp vibrates between us. With each heavy pant, her chest rises and falls, bringing her taut nipples to attention against her shirt like they’re clawing at the fabric.

My fingers twitch to feel for myself how hard those beads of temptation are.

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