Page 36 of Mistlefoe
His chest works harder for oxygen even than mine. “Good idea. I’ll, uh, wait for you in the truck.”
“You do that.” I turn quickly and hurry down the hallway in the middle of the tables, but something makes me stop. I glance at him over my shoulder. Conor’s still standing in the middle of the stage, his glasses on one hand and the other onerunning down his face. When it’s visible again, it somehow seems redder than before.
I did that. I kissed my former foe under the mistletoe and made it impossible for him to walk out in public.
I slam my hand against my aching lips to contain a squeal.
CHAPTER 13
CONOR
“Well, this got out of hand,” I whisper at my reflection in the rearview mirror where half of my blood has collected.
As agreed, I’m waiting in my pickup and no matter how I sit, I can’t seem to cool my face down. Or the rest of my body. And okay, she saw how into her I was, so whatever. It happens. I’m a man who is into women, with a special focus on the complicated ones. The real problem is that I need to make the drive back to work as comfortable as possible, because otherwise she’s going to freak out.
And with reason. We’re just coworkers after all. That kiss shouldn’t even have happened.
I turn the heating off and roll the windows down. Surely the cold will help. Hopefully.
I drop my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. Sierra felt so perfect in my arms, like a lock and key that are an exact match. It doesn’t matter that I almost had to pick her up from the floor to kiss her properly—she gives back as good as she gets and shit, she was really into it. Just as much as I was. The sounds she made, the taste of her mouth…
I groan and then choke in my own saliva when I remember what she said about that.
“Conor, you asshole. You’re not helping yourself.”
I rub my forehead. I better get my shit together real quick because she’ll get in my car any second now.
“Think about bad things,” I tell myself. “Stepping on a puddle in your socks. A puck to the teeth. Not getting a ten thousand dollar bonus and the promotion…” It almost feels like it’s starting to work until Sierra’s figure appears in the parking lot.
She’s fully decked in winter gear and all I can see is her pink nose above her scarf, her dark eyes fixed on my truck, and a mass of wild—and extremely soft—curls that escape from under her beanie. That’s it. And it’s enough for my hormones to gohello again.
Quick, I take off my glasses and close my eyes tight because maybe if I don’t see her, I can stop fantasizing. But then she opens the passenger door and her scent invades my nose again. I casually prop my elbow on the door and rub my face as she hoists herself into the car.
“Okay, I decided to put on my big girl pants and told the clerk the truth. She took it surprisingly well.” Sierra twists on the seat to buckle up. “But as I was talking with her, I had a horrible realization.”
“Huh? What.”
She was able to think about anything other than the fact that we just ate each other’s mouths?
Sierra takes what I feel is too dramatic a pause before speaking. “Wait, why do you have the windows down? It’s freezing here.”
I mumble something incoherent because I’m not about to explain when clearly I’m the only one who is still hot and bothered. Maybe this kiss wasn’t a big deal to her, which—fair. It was just mistletoe, not like I took her on a date with the intentof starting something. Shit, even if I had, it’s her prerogative whether she feels anything for me or not.
And who do I think I am? For a moment there my head really took off by itself, huh? Why the hell would Sierra get all shaken by me? I’m the most awkward turtle I know. I sure didn’t rock Nikki’s world enough for her to stay with me, and Sierra’s a far cooler woman. She’s hardworking, honest even if it hurts, and decisive. The entire opposite of my ex.
Snorting softly, I crank up the heat until Sierra stops shivering. I don’t need the cold anymore. I just cooled my jets without help.
“So, what’s the horrible realization?” My voice comes out raspy, as if that part of my anatomy had yet to recover. I clear my throat slightly.
Sierra picks up the conversation without missing a beat. “Well, you know how we keep talking about booth this, booth that?”
“Yeah?”
“Conor, we don’t have any booths.”
I stop firmly at the stop sign, partially because I have to and also so I can look at her. “Shit.”
“Right.”
