Page 12 of My First Mistake
My cheeks flush with heat and I feel stupidly embarrassed now for admitting that. How can someone as perfect and good at everything he does ever understand something like that? “It’s crazy, I know,” I babble.
“No, not crazy at all. I get it. I have a lucky suit that makes me feel like that.”
“No, you do not!”
“Yeah. It’s Dolce and Gabbana. Custom made. Whenever I have a big meeting or there’s a client I really want to close a deal with, I always wear it.”
I blink at him in shock. “I would never have pegged you as a lucky-suit kind of guy.”
“And why not? Don’t most people have a lucky something?”
“Yeah, but you’re not most people, are you? You’re Chase Hunter. Perfect at everything. Gets whatever he wants with a click of his fingers.” I really didn’t mean that to sound quite so snarky as it did, and the look of hurt that flashes over his face makes me regret it instantly.
His jaw works. “Not everything, Addie.”
The sadness in his eyes tugs at my heartstrings, because unlike him, I have one—and now I feel guilty. “I didn’t mean...I was trying to say you’re good at everything, but I…” Ugh, why is this so difficult? “I know how hard you work.”
He doesn’t answer and now I’m feeling progressively more like an insensitive asshole while desperately trying to think of something to say that will lighten the mood again. And I’m so distracted by that that I don’t see the rock until I’m tripping over it. Luckily, I manage to put my hands out to stop me from falling flat on my face and attending my brother’s wedding with a busted nose or a black eye, but I twist my ankle and my hands hurt.
“Addie!” Chase yells, sounding worried.
“Ow!” I whimper.
“Fuck, are you okay?” He asks and before I can stop him, he’s scooping me up into his arms and holding me tight to his chest. Even in the dim lighting that illuminates the path, I can see the concern in his eyes. And now I feel like a prize idiot. Boasting about how I can walk in my heels and then falling over—that’s what I get for bragging. Thanks universe!
“I’m fine,” I insist. Despite the pain in my ankle, my pride is hurt more than anything else. “Put me down.”
“The cabin’s not far. You might have a sprain or something.”
“I don’t. I can walk on my own, Chase.” I almost sob out the words because he’s being so nice, even after I was a tiny bit mean to him. And then I fell over, and I think I’m definitely probably maybe a little drunk. And I don’t like it here in his arms…It feels too safe. Too familiar. Too much like I don’t want to leave.
“Addie, baby, please just let me carry you a few feet so we can check on your foot.”
Did he just call me baby? And was that intentional or a slip? Does he know that word makes my heart swell and break at the same time?
“Put your arms around my neck.” His tone makes it clear that he will brook no further argument, and I don’t offer any. I do as he asks and then he carries me back to the cabin, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body scrambling my senses. We don’t speak again until we get inside.
“Do you want to try standing?” he asks.
My ankle is no longer throbbing and I’m sure it was just an awkward twist, so I nod.
Gently, he sets me on my feet, keeping his hands on my hips in case I fall. My ankle throbs a gentle protest, but it’s fine. “I’m good.”
“Yeah, you are,” he says, his usually bright blue eyes incredibly dark now.
My arms are still around his neck, his hands still with a firm grip on my hips as we stare into each other’s eyes. “You know I also like to wear heels because it makes me feel tall,” I admit. I’m only five foot four and a lot of people are taller than me. “Except around you. Around you I always feel small.”
“You’re not small, Addie. I hate that I make you feel that way.”
I frown, confused, and realize he’s totally misunderstood my meaning. I was speaking very literally. “I only meant because you’re so tall, Chase. Even in my heels you tower over me.”
He grinds his jaw.
We’re still holding onto each other.
“I think I kind of like that, though,” I whisper, my body inching closer to his.
“Addie,” he groans my name.
