Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(43)

She nodded, flipping her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Emerson perked up in her seat. “Where you going?”

“Just going to talk to Reece.”

“Oh, talking,” she said, her voice heavy with exaggeration. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Sighing, but with a smile, I looked back at Suzanne. “Sure you can handle her?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tuck her in. And if that doesn’t work I can always smother her with a pillow.”

“Hear that? She wants to kill me! Don’t leave me with her!”

Rolling my eyes, I shut the door on Emerson’s still talking face.

I watched them pull out of the parking lot before heading back to the bar, pushing against the rolling exodus of people. I sidestepped a blonde shivering in her too-short miniskirt.

By the time I stood in the main room again, the place was almost empty, the footsteps of the remaining people thudding heavily over the plank flooring. Reece was easy to locate. He stood at the bar, talking to two other bartenders. They nodded, listening to him as he instructed them on something.

I observed this new side of him, seeing it now. Appreciating it. The authoritative edge to him had always been there, I just hadn’t acknowledged it. I’d seen it but hadn’t considered he might actually be in charge of the place. How did a twenty-three-year-old come to be in charge of a bar? It seemed like a big responsibility. He said it had been in his family for three generations, but where was his father? Or mother? Why weren’t they operating it?

I crossed my arms. Mostly because I didn’t know what else to do with them, but maybe because I also thought I could disguise my stained sweatshirt. I really should have considered my wardrobe tonight. A part of me must have known I could end up here.

I felt awkward standing there, shifting on my feet, waiting for him to see me. One of the bartenders, an older guy with a handlebar mustache, noticed me watching the three of them. He nodded in my direction. Reece turned and looked at me. Instantly, his expression hardened, the ease that had been there slipping away. And that hurt a little, knowing that I had done that.

Was it only the other night that he had kissed me and said those things that made me feel special? So not like a girl unaccustomed to kisses and hot boys with sexy grins. He made it natural . . . being with a guy. Being with him. He made me feel beautiful.

His mouth flattened into a thin line. He took a step toward me, stopping for a moment to speak to the other two bartenders before lifting up the bar top and crossing to where I stood.

“You came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever he expected me to say, I don’t think it was this. He blinked. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I should have said good-bye. It was rude.” I shrugged, uncomfortable beneath his intent gaze and decided to just go for honesty, no matter how much of a flake it made me sound. “I’m not familiar with the rules that go with hooking up. Sorry. I messed up.” I gazed at him, waiting.

He continued to study me. The harshness ebbed from his expression. His mouth relaxed somewhat. He looked more baffled than anything else as he stood there looking down at me like I was some manner of strange species.

“Well. I just wanted you to know that. Good night.” Turning, I walked away.

I didn’t make it five steps before his hand fell on my shoulder. I turned around.

“You didn’t mess up. I like that you don’t know what the rules are for hooking up.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re not—” He paused and ran a hand over his scalp, chafing his close-cut hair. My palms tingled, remembering how soft that hair felt against my palms. “You’re different. I didn’t like waking up and finding you gone.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak as his admission sank in and made my face heat up.

“Oh,” I finally managed to get out past the lump in my throat. I couldn’t help wondering what could have happened if I’d stayed. If I had been there when he woke up. What would he have said? What would we have done? Would we have picked up where we left off before we fell asleep?

His hand reached out and toyed with the bottom of my sweatshirt. “I like this.”

“My sweatshirt?” I laughed nervously. “I’m wearing applesauce.” I motioned to the smear on my chest.

“It’s a good look on you.”

“Now I know you’re lying.”

“No.” He gave my sweatshirt a small tug, inexorably pulling me toward him, bit by bit, and it was like the other night again. His presence was overwhelming, the heat that emanated from him. The blue of his eyes that seemed to turn to smoke when he looked at me. I was under his spell. Maybe I had never ceased to be. I’d been spellbound since our first kiss and especially since the night I spent in his loft. Maybe this was what had brought me back here in the middle of the night. Maybe I was hoping to repeat the experience.

“I’ll never lie to you, Pepper.” That soft utterance blew through me like a sonic blast. Crazy, but I heard more than his vow to be honest. The words were full of the expectation that there would be a him and me, an us. That we were really doing this. Whatever this was.

“Hey, bro! Still crashing with you tonight?” Reece’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. I followed his gaze and spotted Logan carting a tub of empty glasses. His eyes brightened when he saw me. “Oh, hey. Pepper, right? How’s it going?” His gaze slid between me and his brother and suddenly he looked all too pleased. “See you found the brother you were really after. Too bad for me.”