Shameless(31)

“Are you conservative too?”

Her eyebrows knit together and she shakes her head. “God, no. I’m sure I would’ve preferred attending UT. I got a full ride to both schools, but I went to A&M because I didn’t want to let my dad down.” She sighs. “I know that sounds lame.”

“Full ride, huh?” I’m not surprised with the way she runs things around here. She’s a powerhouse. She reminds me of a little hummingbird, the way she never stops working.

“Yes, that’s how my nerdiness through high school was rewarded.”

“You? A nerd? I find that hard to believe.” Especially in that dress. I fight to not glance down at her bare thigh that’s peeking through the slit in the front.

“I’m sure this is gonna sound strange, but it was tough to finally settle down and go to an actual school. I was so used to studying when we were on the road. Reading under a big oak tree or in a field of cotton with the wind blowing in my face.”

I smile at her Southern accent and the way studying and reading sound like studyin’ and readin’.

“A lot of kids in situations like mine miss school and end up dropping out later, but my dad was on my butt every day. He’d get assignments from my aunt. She’s a teacher. So yeah, when I finally went to high school, I was a bona fide nerd, complete with glasses and a mouth full of metal.”

I chuckle as I pour another shot. “Braces aren’t so bad. I had a retainer in high school. Great for my teeth. Bad for making out with cheerleaders.”

“Cheerleaders, huh? You and I ran in different stratospheres then. But I’m not surprised you dated cheerleaders. You probably still do.”

I wait until she looks up at me. “Cheerleaders are overrated.”

She stares at me a moment before a smile spreads on her face. And then she laughs. “I have a t-shirt that says, Nerds Do It Better.”

“I bet.” And maybe it’s the alcohol that’s letting me take a few liberties, but I give in to the urge I’ve had all day and let my eyes wander over her body. “I’d like to test that theory sometime,” I mumble under my breath.

The blanket has fallen off her shoulders, and she’s sitting with her legs tucked under her while she sports that little nineteen fifties-style dress that makes my pulse kick up. Which is surprising because it’s modest. Demure even. But f*ck, all I can think about is the way those buttons lead between those lush breasts, and I can’t help but wonder how she'd feel in my hands.

When my eyes lift to hers, I see the same longing reflected back at me.

We’re sitting side by side on this huge couch. It would be so easy to lean forward and delve between those luscious pink lips.

Warning bells go off in my head.

This is wrong. I’m leaving soon. I have a shitload of responsibility that makes having a relationship right now impossible. Izzy. My parents. A farm house. A failing business in Boston. And I doubt Kat is the kind of girl to hook up.

But between the emotional day we’ve had and the alcohol numbing my brain, I can’t deny how much I want to strip her of that dress and lose myself in her body.

We stare at each other, and it’s all I can do to not reach for her. But then a thunderbolt shatters the silence, and we both jerk back.

I’m not one for believing in signs, but if ever there was one that screamed, Don’t be a f*cking idiot, that was it.

I laugh nervously and find a reason to take a breather. “Be back in a sec. Nature’s calling.”





20





Katherine





My heart is racing the whole time he’s gone. The way Brady was looking at me, like he wanted nothing more than to yank me into his lap and have his way with me, made my body spark to life. Even now that he’s stepped away, I want to chase after him.

Ugh. Pathetic.

I take a deep breath and my eyes drop down to the half-empty bottle of tequila.

Not good. We’re both buzzed, really buzzed, and strung out from today. A flash of skin catches my attention, and I realize my thigh is on full display.

Oh, for heaven’s sakes. No wonder he wants to jump your bones. You're half-naked.

I pull the fabric over my legs and yank the blanket over me as he strolls back in. He glances at the TV and then back at me.

“What should we watch?”

He flips through the channels, and we debate different movies. I want a John Hughes film, and he wants Die Hard or Terminator. I shake my head. Men.

He tosses the remote next to the half-eaten box of pizza, and Steve Carell’s voice fills the room. We settle on 40-Year-Old Virgin without ever saying anything. It just happens to be on TV.

I don’t miss the way he sits on the other side of the couch this time or how he leans away like he’s deliberately putting distance between us.

For some reason, this makes me like him more. So many men would use today as an excuse to get in a girl’s panties. But not Brady. He totally could have had me ten ways to Sunday a few minutes ago.

But then a nagging thought starts looping in my brain.

Maybe he doesn’t want me. Maybe he realizes that a short fling with a farm girl is more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe he’s not attracted to me like I am to him.

Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, I pour another shot of tequila. I’m gonna regret the alcohol tomorrow, but this might numb the sting of rejection.