Page 12 of Nice to Meet Boo
Her brows arch. “Safe’s overrated.” She leans close, mouth brushing my ear. “Interested in doing after hours?”
The phrase punches through me. “After hours?”
“The bar is closing soon. The game is done. Everyone’s going home. But we don’t have to.” Her thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. “There’s a whole town asleep out there. We could… stay awake.”
I swallow. I should say no. I should build a wall out of every 2x4 in the county and put it between us. But her eyes are daring me, and my body is already answering yes.
“Stacey,” I rasp.
She tilts her head, halo shining crookedly. “Come on, Devil. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Everything, I think. Everything.
But I bend and kiss her again, deeper this time, hand sliding under the edge of her wings to cup her back, fingers grazing hot skin. She gasps, and I take the sound into my mouth, into the part of me that’s been starved for more than work and empty nights.
The contest is over. But the real game has just started.
FIVE
STACEY
A cold breeze slaps my face, sending a chill straight into my bones as we exit the bar. I shiver.
Grant frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
“No you aren’t.” His eyes narrow smore. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I’ve never understood that saying. Leaves don’t shake.”
“What do they do then?”
I pause and tilt my head to the side but give a shrug. Which is a mistake when it sends a fresh burst of cold through me.
“I don’t know.” I finally admit. “But I think it’s more of a sway than a shake.”
“And you’re deflecting.”
“About what?”
Rolling his eyes, Grant slides his arm under my wings and tucks me closer. His warmth instantly envelops me.
“Thanks,” I say, somewhat begrudgingly. “This costume really doesn’t lend itself to wearing a coat.”
“And it’s gotten colder.” He tightens his hold. “Good thing I run a little hot.”
I’ll say. “You’re like my very own space heater.”
He chuckles, and the heat in that sound erases that last bit of cold lingering inside of me.
With a glance over his shoulder, Grant guides me down a side street. I follow him without question. I may have lived in this town most of my life, but I have no idea where we’re going.
We walk for a few moments before he leads me into a public parking lot. We come to a pause near an oversized truck with a silver camper hitched to the back.
I lean to the side slightly to glance up into this face. “Is this your place?”
“For now,” he says. He shifts from one foot to the other, putting more distance between us. “It’s what easiest for now. I can take it with me from one job to the next.”
