One Last Time(29)

“I’m writing an article on you and your love life.”

Is she serious? She thinks I give a fuck about that? She can write whatever she wants, they all do anyway. If that’s her big reason, she has a whole new fight on her hands. One I’ll win.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t do this.” Kristin slips out from between the car and me and starts to walk off.

I rush after her, not wanting this to be how our night ends. “I’m sorry,” I say as I grab her arm. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

She lets out a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt anything like this, and it’s confusing and exciting and scary as hell. The truth is, we would never work.” Kristin’s hand rests on my chest. “I’m not ready, and I promise you don’t want to even dip your toes into my crazy life.”

If she only knew that I’d dive in headfirst.

I release her arm, knowing that I have to take a step back. Heather’s words of warning ring in my head about the piece of shit her husband is and all the damage he’s done to her that she doesn’t even see.

“Can we be friends?” I ask, because I have a feeling it’s the only way she’ll agree to see me again.

“Really?” There is a cute little hint of surprise in her voice. “You want to be friends? I’m starting to question your sanity.”

“Are you not ready to be friends? I figured we crossed over to that when I didn’t let you drown.”

She looks at the sky and mutters. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Probably not. Plus, it’s my insurance policy if you write some crap about me that isn’t true. It’s all about leverage.”

“Good to know.” She slaps my arm. “I’m pretty sure my reporting that you stripped an unconscious drunk girl wouldn’t bode well for your reputation, either.”

I lean in, inhaling the scent of her citrus perfume. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Well, Mr. Frazier, we’ll just have to keep our aces in our pockets, now won’t we?”

I rock back with a grin. “I guess we will. I look forward to reading the article.”

Kristin grins. “I appreciate the exclusive, and tonight. I’m really sor—”

“Don’t say it.” I lift my hand. “It’s me who needs to apologize. Can we start over?”

She nods. “I’d like that.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out two sticks of gum. I hand her one. “No magic pill, but I have gum that helps you forget.”

Kristin’s smile is wide as she accepts my offering. “Magic gum, huh?”

“I hear it helps when you want to erase the past and start over.”

I’m being the cheesiest fucking guy ever, but it’s working.

“Well, then.” She unwraps the stick and pops it into her mouth, and I do the same. “Working yet?”

I am an actor, time to do what I know. “I’m Noah Frazier, Eli’s friend.” I extend my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Noah,” she says as she shakes. “I’m Kristin McGee, Heather has told me so much about you. I’m hoping to talk sometime soon for an article I’m writing.”

“I look forward to seeing you for an interview.”

“Me, too.” Kristin pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she ducks her head.

I cover her hand with my other one. “Have a great night, Ms. McGee.”

She removes her hand and touches my arm. “Good night, Noah. I had a great time.”

“I look forward to more.” I wink and turn toward the car.

I remember what my drama teacher said about always leaving them wanting more, and that’s exactly what I plan to do with her.





Chapter Twelve





Kristin





I lean against the wall, wondering what the hell just happened.

Noah kissed me. I mean, really kissed me.

And I kissed him back.

Damn that was a good kiss.

A kiss that should never have happened. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to kiss him more than I cared about self-preservation. I barely know the man, but it’s as if we’ve been friends forever.

There’s this thing . . . this stupid thing that is going to fuck everything up if I let it happen again.

It won’t. I won’t let it because I’m in no place to bring another set of issues into my chaotic life. Jesus, how dumb can I be? I’m in the process of finalizing a divorce, a single mom, and I’m assigned to write about him.

After I’m sure I won’t look like a giraffe learning to walk after the kiss of a lifetime, I find my way into the kitchen to pour a much-needed glass of wine. My deadline is Monday morning, and I’m way too keyed up to sleep, so I change into my comfy clothes and turn on my laptop.

The Word doc comes to life, I press play on the recorder, let my fingers hover over the keyboard, and start to get a rough draft going.

I mentally giggle about the title, knowing he’ll get the inside joke.



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