Page 21 of Flirting with the Scrooge

I spit it out and it flutters to the floor. “Nah, I got this.” Then I do the same with the other side. Finally, I’m able to peel back one side and wrap it around her thumb and then do the same with the other. With her hand in mine, I press down the sides making sure it’s secure. “There.”

“Now I feel like you should kiss it to make it feel better.” Her soft, full lips tip up into a smile.

My gaze locks on hers and I bend down, pressing my lips to the pad of her thumb over the Band-Aid. Her breath hitches and her hand slightly trembles as soon as I make contact. If I wasn’t so close to her, I would have missed it. Slowly, I lift my head. “There. All better.”

“It is.” Her words are barely a whisper.

A few silent seconds pass as we stare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. When she doesn’t say or do anything, I pull away. “What do you say we get out of the bathroom and go back to where it’s warm.”

She nods.

Our gazes linger on each other’s for a brief moment longer. I wanted to kiss her again, except not on her fingers. I’d start on her wrists, her pulse would thump under my lips as I press down on her delicate skin. Then I’d trail kisses up her arm and across her shoulder until I reached the side of her neck. I would nip at her sensitive skin, then move up to her jaw and across her cheek. When I reach the corner of her mouth, her breath would hitch, showing me she wants it too. I would cup her cheek with my hand and drag my lips to meet hers. Soft and sensual at first, then growing more ravenous with each passing second. Her little moans and whimpers would spur me to continue. Then I—

“Connor? Hello? Connor?”

Tatum’s voice pulls me out of my daydream. I blink once. Twice. Even with the poor lighting, her big, blue eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“You can let go of my hand now.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry.” I drop her hand and step away as if she’s a raging hot fire and I just got burned. If she knew the thoughts that just ran through my head, I’m sure she would light me on fire.

We make our way back into the kitchen and finish cleaning up the mess. I grab her a new drink and manage to not drop this one. When we get back into the living room, she curls up on the couch at the end closest to the fire. I settle down in the rocking chair across from her. It might be best if I’m not within arm’s reach of her right now. Discreetly, I adjust myself in the chair.

She lifts the bottle of hard cider to her lips, swallowing a gulp. The bottle rests in her lap as she asks, “So, what brought you to town?”

“Really? Small talk?”

She huffs. “What else are we going to do? Sit here in silence?”

Yeah, that’s what I was hoping, but I keep that to myself. The reason I'm here is not to make friends. All I wanted was time to myself. To be alone. To realize there’s more to life than being someone else’s puppet and being told what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Instead, I’m sitting in my living room across from a woman who’s unknowingly implanted herself into my life and my thoughts. The same woman I steal glances at while she gets her mail like some kind of creepy stalker.

“I needed to get away for a while.”

“From California?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I saw your license plate, and I got a piece of your mail by accident. Connor Tyler.” She flashes me a snarky smile.

Fuck. I fight to keep my expression neutral. Now that she knows my full name, hopefully she hasn’t Googled me. While I’ve done my best to keep everything hidden, I’m sure if she searches hard enough, she can connect the dots. “I needed to be somewhere quiet. Figure some shit out,” I say to keep the conversation going so she doesn’t get suspicious.

“Harbor Highlands is kind of an obscure place to buy a house just to figure out some shit.”

I lift one shoulder and let it drop, not wanting to correct her.

“What are you running from? Scorned lover? Rob a bank? Are the cops going to bust down your door any minute? Shit. Does me being here make me an accomplice?” She presses her finger to her lips and scans the room as if she’s planning her escape route.

A twinge of a smile plays on my lips. “None of that.”

“Then what?” Her hand falls to her lap. When I don’t say anything for a second, she responds, “Sorry. It’s probably personal. You don’t have to tell me.” She swallows another drink from her bottle.

I do the same. The fire crackles in front of us as a moment of silence passes. “Have you ever had someone demand the world from you?”

She glances up at the ceiling as she ponders her response. “There are a few people who’ve done that to me.”

“That was me back in LA, but it wasn’t just one person. It was everyone.”

“What do you do in LA?”

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