Page 19 of When the Walls Come Down
Though now…
Fuck it. If he could creep into my space any time the wind blew north, surely I could do some creeping too. First up, finding out what he was hiding beneath that sweater.
Licking my lips, I rested a hand on his stomach.
His eyes flared, and his smile momentarily faltered, but his firm abs tightened beneath my touch.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
His gaze flicked over my shoulder, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Um…well, I, uh, planned a few things. Maybe keep your expectations low though.”
I quietly laughed and slid my hand up his chest. Damn if his sculpted pecs weren’t just as nice as his washboard stomach.
He sucked in a sharp breath almost as though it pained him, but he never took the first step away. He also didn’t make a move to touch me in return. Not a warm hip squeeze or subtle brush of the curls off my shoulder. Nothing.
“I lied,” he murmured, his sweet mint breath fluttering over my lips. “My truck’s not in the shop. It’s in the parking garage. But nobody drives in San Francisco.”
“Tell that to the traffic,” I replied breathily.
He chuffed. “You gonna be able to go for a walk in those heels?”
“Probably not.”
“Do you want to change?”
“My stuff won’t be here until tomorrow, so my choices are pretty limited. Should I change?”
He cleared his throat and took a giant step away. My hand fell to my side with his sudden departure. The loss was staggering, but the return of his smile quelled the burn.
“Hmm.” He leaned to the side, making a show of checking out my shoes. “They don’t seem very practical.”
“I’m not sure the point of heels has ever been practicality.”
His lips twitched, but his face got serious. “Wait. Did you wear those to seduce me, Peach?”
“Mainly, I wore them because they can be used as a weapon if you don’t stop calling me Peach.”
Tucking the Tic Tacs in his back pocket with one hand, he pulled his door shut with the other. “Mouthy today. I like it. I do Jiu-Jitsu on the side. We should spar sometime.”
A truck and Jiu-Jitsu? Heath would be downright giddy. And for the way my stomach dipped, he wouldn’t have been alone in that.
“Nah, I’d hate to embarrass you. My brother is a former cop—turned DEA agent, turned maniac husband and father—who enrolled me in kickboxing when I was nine after he saw the neighbor boy peeking at me over the fence. I kind of fell in love with it, and before I moved, I spent at least three nights a week at the gym. I need to find a new place here though. It’s on my to-do list.”
He froze with his keys in the lock and peered at me over his shoulder. “Seriously?” His surprise was cute.
With me being five-five, blonde, and all of a buck twenty-five, people underestimated me all the time. At first glance, I was either weak or brainless like every cliché dumb blonde joke. But personally, professionally, and yeah, sometimes physically, I took great pleasure in proving them wrong.
“Yep,” I chirped.
He twisted the deadbolt on his door and it smoothly locked into place, unlike the war I’d had to wage with the one to my apartment.
Turning all the way to face me, he arched a dark brow. “A Southern accent, heels, and a kickboxer? And you’re not trying to seduce me?”
Oh, I had never said that.
Actually, as he stood there, sexy as fuck in that damn form-fitting cardigan, the memory of his hard body beneath my palm, his breath ghosting across my skin, I was fairly certain that seducing him was exactly what I was planning to do.
“I know. You’re a lucky man. Now, tell me where you’re taking me.” Hooking my arm through his, I started toward the elevator with Shane in tow.
His body turned to stone, but he shuffled after me, saying, “Yeah, so, about that.”I’d scrambled all day for perfect date ideas, and ultimately, nothing had sounded right. When I’d made it home, I’d searched around the net for trendy San Francisco date spots, but honestly, they all looked cliché and boring as fuck. I had zero interest in wasting a single minute with her doing something touristy and predictable.
Casey’s advice was good, and I’d take it—but that was the thing. It didn’t matter what the hell we did, because the best part of the date was going to be talking to her.
Messing with her.
Her messing with me.
Frankly, we could do that anywhere.
All that mattered was that, for the next however many hours we spent together, I kept a smile on her face. Well, that and covertly handling the half-chub she induced every time she touched me. But give me a fucking break. I hadn’t been touched by a woman in years, and Maggie was severely hot. And young. And funny with a Goddamned bare shoulder peeking out every so often from the loose fit of her sweater. And her naturally curly hair. And she was putting off the vibe that…
