I take a step away, dropping my head forward so my hair swings forward to cover part of my face. This is what I do when I feel uncomfortable in a social situation, which means this is something I do all the time. Especially when a cute guy is talking to me.
“Thanks again for the wallet,” I say.
“Wait. You have no money, and you look like you need lunch.”
“I should get home. People are waiting for me at home.” I lift my head enough to meet his eyes. People aren’t waiting for me. Why am I lying again?
“By people, you mean boyfriend?” he asks.
I press my lips together tightly and nod.
“Jess, that guy’s no good for you, whoever he is. You wouldn’t be wearing those blue shoes if he was. Those are sad shoes.”
I laugh again. I slip my wallet back into my pocket and put my hands on my hips as I lean back to lift the toes of my shoes.
“These are great shoes,” I tell him.
“How so?”
“They’re blue, and they’re suede. Think about it. Elvis. Blue suede shoes. Don’t mess with ‘em.”
He bobs his head from side to side in a subtle, but unmistakable movement. His upper lip curls skyward into an Elvis-like sneer, and his body posture changes to a swagger. He’s channeling The King.
“Thank you, little lady,” he says in an Elvis voice. “Thank you very much.”
I shake my finger at him. “This is good. Now you need to grow out the sideburns, and you’ll have it made as an Elvis impersonator. You just need a sassy white jumpsuit, with rhinestones.” I squint my eye—the one that isn’t swollen shut yet, unlike the other—and pretend to be seeing him in the suit.
He fakes being wounded by my words, covering his heart with his hands. “You didn’t like my original material?”
I’m at a loss for words. Of course I liked his original material. I’ve never heard a voice as rugged and sensual as his. He sounded like so many popular singers, yet completely and distinctively himself.
He lowers his head, peering past his eyebrows at me as he moves closer. His boots clomp on the sidewalk with each step as he comes at me.
I bite my lower lip and back up until my butt hits the boarded up window of the building behind me. Ugh. He’s so cute. I’m acting like such a dork.
He gets closer still, raising his arms to trap me within his embrace. Both of his palms land on the wall with soft smacks on either side of me.
Here in the shadow of the building, the air is cooler. My scalp tightens, the thin coat of damp sweat on the back of my neck making my skin contract.
Holy crap, this guy is intense. We don’t even know each other, and he’s so close to me, I could practically kiss him.
“We should get some ice,” he says.
My voice squeaks out. “For what?” My eyes go to his lips, and I imagine rubbing an ice cube across the pink skin of his lips, so welcoming within the spiky dark facial hairs dotting his upper lip and chin. Would it scratch my face to kiss someone with stubble? What would the kiss feel like?
“For your eyeball,” he murmurs.
“I’ll be fine. I was raised on a farm, so I’ve been hurt before.”
His expression clouds over with worry. “Who hurt you?”
A shy smile creeps onto my face. “Mostly horses, when they swing their big heads around and knock you over. But plenty of animals will knock you down if you get between them and their food. They don’t mean to. It’s just…”
I pause, because he’s so close to me now, I can smell the scent he’s wearing. The smell could be aftershave, from the smooth part of his neck, or a scented body wash. Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe he smells like that, all over.
“Just what?” he prompts.
I forgot what I was talking about. Horses and pigs? Why am I discussing livestock with this gorgeous man only inches from my face? I finish my sentence anyway. “Just instincts.”
“Humans have instincts, too,” he says, his arms still stretched out on either side of my face, trapping me within the cage of his body. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and he bites his lower lip to mimic me. I grin, and he matches my grin. His dark, mysterious, sparkling eyes move down again, dragging their way down my body. My clothes do nothing to hide me from him.
I’m nervous as hell, but this is the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t want the moment to end, so I say nothing.
He smirks at my blue shoes and then his gaze strokes back up my legs, bare under my shorts. I’m thankful I took a moment to put lotion on my legs before I left the house this morning, so they aren’t too shiny. His eyes rove up further, and the expression on his face says that he approves of what he sees. So, maybe I can breathe now.