Page 7 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

He bursts out laughing, rocking back on the curb and sadly causing our hands to fall from each other. I fidget awkwardly with my belt, not knowing what to do with my hand in his hand’s absence. Continuing to chuckle, he says, “I’m not. What about you? Kill anyone, Natalie?”

“I have the perfect alibis regarding a few exes, but I never followed through.” I wink.

When his chuckles wane, he says, “I’m not sure if you’re kidding or not.”

“Guess you’ll have to take a chance.” I rest my palms on the concrete behind me. “Between us, my best friend just topped my list of future victims.” Suddenly feeling the need to stand, I pace a few feet and then return to him and prop my foot up on the curb. “You don’t have to worry about me, Nick. In fact, I can wait for the rental company to show up all by my lonesome if you want to take off.” I check the time on my watch and scowl, irritated when I see I still have some steps to cover to reach my daily goal.

"What’s wrong?” he asks, standing up.

He’s tall.I noticed that inside, but with him up on the curb and me standing lower on the parking lot, he’s absurdly giant. Even my brother would be jealous of Nick’s height, and my brother is no slouch. I reply, “It’s dumb.”

Seeing fingers flex reminds me I’ve caught what appears to be Nick trying to touch me several times. I would have karate-chopped his wrist, but I laugh, knowing that’s a lie I can’t even tell myself. I was forced out of his arms inside, so I’d wholeheartedly welcome a repeat.

Or maybe . . .Could I pull off a legit fall when standing on steady ground? Is it worth the potential injury if he doesn’t catch me this time? Or even worse, thinks I’m a lost cause of a klutz? Will it matter what I think about him catching me if his lips are on mine? Or even better, he kisses me so good that I can’t think at all?

Even though he’s great with his hands, I blow off the crazy idea.

“Natalie?”

“Yes?” I look up into his persuasive eyes, wondering if I should put my devious plan into action. I bet his lips would make the fall worth the embarrassment.

When he continues to look at me as though he’s in on some secret, which he isn’t, or there’s no way he would still be standing here knowing I’ve been daydreaming about mauling him and that mouth of his, I add, “Seriously, if you take off now you might make the party before they depart.”

“I don’t mind waiting.”

Shrugging, I add, “It’s your night.”

“Nah. I’m not missing out. Actually . . .” He steps down next to me. “I think I got the better option for the night.”

“Beats end of the stick. Also, if memory serves, you weren’t given an option but rather a babysitting job.”

His laughter bellows from his gut. “I could say so much, but . . .” He reaches toward me again—just enough to notice but not close enough to touch. Then he retreats with worry creasing his expression. “You’ve got?—”

“Stars in my eyes? They always shine like this when I drink. Speaking of, we can wait inside and have another drink.”

Glancing over his shoulder when a couple of guys come tripping out—boisterous and crude—I remember hearing them remarking on the size of the waitress’s breasts. “They’re horrid.”

Nick turns, blocking me in his shadow. I can’t see the other men, but I can hear them. My stomach tightens, but I find safety in the fact they can’t see me either. “I can think of a better word.” He doesn’t share that word, but I get the gist.

This time, I let his hand caress my cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing my temple. The little gesture doesn’t seem to satisfy him, but it does me, and I move closer. He asks, “How are you feeling?” His voice is as warm as his touch.

On the verge of sobering up entirely too soon for my liking, I wouldn’t mind having an excuse to touch him right back. Alas, even under the influence of a few drinks, I remember my manners. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“Shots taken under peer pressure never end well.”

The other men have carried on to the next bar, and Nick and I are alone again. Considering how busy this place is, I’m starting to feel lucky I’ve been given the time to sober up. The last thing I want to do is throw up in front of him.

Nick—catcher of drunk women, flat-tire determiner with all-around movie star good looks. Among everything I’ve already learned about him, I can’t help but note his looks. What can I say besides he’s hot?

When I was in his arms, I was fairly certain he was the devil sent to make me sin. Now I’m starting to think he’s my guardian angel to keep me safe. I might be a little disappointed. Giggling, I add, “Truer words have never been spoken. I’m tipsy and hungry.”

“Ah, those usually go hand in hand.” Holding up his phone, he offers, “I can order food?”

I’m already licking my lips from the very thought of a big burger with fries. “It’s okay. Thanks, though.” He yanks his gaze away and stares at some nearby golf carts like they’ve offended him.

I try to fix that frown. “Since we have time to kill?—”

He eyes me suspiciously. “Kill?”

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