Page 119 of Just One Season
CHAPTER 34
Just Once More
KELLEN
It’s almost midnight, and Lucy Knox has me speechless. From the first moment I saw her across the room tonight, I lost my shit. Quietly, internally, but I’m a mess.
She’s so beautiful tonight. Always, actually, but there’s something about seeing her in that short black dress and heels.
I don’t even know what to say to her. I feel like a teenage boy tongue tied around the hottest girl in school. I can’t get her alone. I shouldn’t, anyway. It’s like she doesn’t even notice me. She’s the sun, with her fiery red hair, and I’m just some shitty planet too far away to feel her heat.
A waiter comes by with a tray, and I swipe two full glasses of champagne. I’m going to talk to her. What will I say? Fuck if I know. I’ll ask her how she is. If she thinks about me.
If she realizes I love her.
Nope. Just the first one. I head in her direction with Harley, my heart pounding.
“Lucy,” I say, and she looks up at me, her eyes filled with surprise and warmth, and maybe something like fear.Or is that heat?
I’m such a bad reader of people.
“Hi. Having a good night?” she asks, like we’re two coworkers at a work event.
“Yes. Champagne?” I extend my hand toward her, and Lucy reaches out for the glass.
“Thank you?—”
At that moment, Atticus walks up with Raleigh and Lachlan, and proceeds to throw his arm out mid-sentence. His arm hits mine, and the full glass of champagne I had for Lucy dumps completely down the front of her dress.
She gasps.
“Oh my god, shit, I’m so sorry.” I spin to Atticus and shove the glasses at him. “Dick. Take this.”
“Sorry, Luce!” Atticus grimaces.
“No worries. But that is really cold. And bubbly.” Lucy cracks a grin but champagne drips down her chest into her dress.
“Come on.” I link my hand around Lucy’s arm, steering her away from the group. I lead her out of the ballroom and down the hall toward a distant women’s restroom.
“Where are we going?” Lucy’s breathless but follows my lead.
“There’s a better bathroom over here.”
She nods as if that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse.
It is not.
But I saw a way to get her alone, and I’m going to take advantage. We walk down a long hallway in silence and thankfully a women’s restroom appears. I push the door open and stick my head in.
“Hello? Anyone in here?” No one replies. “Come on.” I pull Lucy in after me. There’s an open area before the sinks and toilets with a chair, a clean counter, and a mirror. I grab a tissue from the box on the counter and turn to face her.
“There were napkins in the ballroom,” she says. Her chest is heaving, and I don’t think it’s from the walk down the hallway.
“May I?” I don’t respond to her comment but raise the tissue up so she knows what I’m asking.
She nods.
I dab the tissue around the hollow of her neck, not looking at her but staying focused on the spilled champagne, which is barely noticeable anymore. I can feel her swallow beneath my fingers, and I pause at the motion before moving further down, dragging the tissue. My heart pounds in my chest and I need this. I need this woman. I’m fucking desperate for her.
