Page 11 of Nice to Meet Boo
GRANT
I’ve worked job sites that felt less like pressure cookers than this stage.
The emcee bellows something about “the final round” and “thirty seconds to wow us.” The crowd whoops. Stacey squeezes my hand and gives me a look that says don’t you dare bolt, Devil.
God help me, I don’t want to.
She smells like cinnamon and something floral, and her halo’s askew from laughing too hard in round two. She’s radiant. She’s reckless. She’s about to ruin my very careful life.
My lips are still tingling from the kiss. Rubbing them together, I can pull the moment back as if it’s still happening.
Her lips part under mine, sweet and demanding. She tastes like sugar and fire. My hands find her waist, then her back, pulling her flush against me.
The crowd roars like we scored a game-winning touchdown, but all I feel is her.
The curve of her hips.
The flutter of her wings brushing my arms.
The sound she makes when I deepen the kiss.
I glance at Stacy and she smiles at me. Taking in her appearance, I can’t help but grin back. Her halo’s crooked. Her eyes are still dazed. Her lips—those delectable lips—are still swollen from mine.
She looks like sin in white.
The emcee pumps his fists over us. “We have our winners!”
The bar explodes as he hands Stacey an envelope.
She beams up at me, laughing, her wings flapping. She clutches the envelope, but she’s still pressed against me, not pulling away.
And I don’t let her.
“Guess we played it hot,” she murmurs.
“Guess we did.”
I should step back. I should put distance between us before I forget what I swore I’d never want again. But she drags me down for another kiss—quick, fierce, entirely hers. And something in my chest lurches.
Feelings. Jesus.
The last time I let myself feel this fast, this hard, it ended with a ring shoved back in my pocket and a woman who decided I wasn’t good enough.
Too stubborn.
Too rough. Too… me.
I buried myself in contracts and sawdust, told myself work was enough. It’s safer. Easier. No one can leave you if you never let them close.
But Stacey’s laughter is still on my lips. Her hand is still in mine. And I don’t want to let go.
“Grant.” Her voice is low, nearly lost in the noise. “Don’t overthink this.”
I jerk my gaze down. “What makes you think I am?”
“You’ve got that look.” She grins, reckless. “Like you’re about to marry the drywall and break up with me before we even start.”
“It’s safer that way.”
