I’ve been to some of the most extravagant places in the world. I’ve had a casual date at a cafe in front of the Eiffel Tower and dined late into the night at a table on a cobblestone street with a view of the Amalfi Coast. No date has ever compared to the night I’m having with Pippa.
She licks eagerly at the ice cream cone in her hand, trying to keep up with the drips of melted ice cream running down her fingers. It’s the most adorable thing seeing her do it, but it also makes me incredibly horny. Her tongue peeks out to get a drip that runs down her hand. She can’t eat the ice cream cone fast enough, even after she’d sworn that she wanted two scoops on top of the cone instead of one. Rainbow sprinkles keep falling off the top, unable to stick to the melting cookies-and-cream ice cream.
I can’t help but laugh when a glob drips off the top, landing on top of her thumb.
She gives me an evil glare, licking it. “This isn’t funny.”
I grab her wrist, pulling her closer. I maintain eye contact as I lean down and lick from her forearm all the way up her hand.
Her eyes go wide, darting around to look at the people around us as I do it again on the opposite side of her arm, getting her nice and clean.
“Camden,” she scolds, trying to pull from my grasp.
My fingers tighten. I make sure to wait until she looks back at me, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, as I stick my tongue out and lick the top of the ice cream before it melts over again. Her gaze heats when I repeat it, knowing exactly where her head is at. It’s the same place mine is—thinking of the dirty, delicious things I could do to her instead of this ice cream cone.
“People are staring,” she whisper-shouts. Her eyes dart around our surroundings again. I smirk because there are tons of people around us. Apparently, tonight is the night to grab ice cream at the small little shop in town. We waited twenty minutes in line just to get our ice cream. And now, we mill around the town square with what seems like the rest of the town.
“Let them stare,” I answer lowly, licking a small drip running down the back of her hand.
“They’re going to know we—” I cut off her words by catching her lips with mine. She tastes sweet, like ice cream and cookies. When her tongue eagerly meets mine—despite her argument of people watching us—it’s cold and sweet.
We get lost in the moment, making out like a couple of teenagers, not caring who is around us.
Pippa lets out a squeak, pulling away and looking down at her arm. Ice cream drips all the way down it. I wish I could bottle up her giggle and keep it forever. “Oh my god,” she mutters, attempting to use the one napkin they gave her to wipe up the mess.
She walks a few steps, throwing the ice cream cone into the trash. She continues to try and use the napkin to clean herself up before I reach into my pocket and hand her a pile I took from the counter. “I grabbed some extras. I figured that extra scoop you told the man you had to have could make things messy.”
Her smile is bright and radiant as she snatches them from my hand, wiping her arm and cleaning up the mess. “What would I do without you?” she teases.
I hope you never find out.
I keep my lips pressed together so I don’t say the words out loud. I’ve admitted enough tonight. More than I ever imagined I would. Before I say anything else, I need to figure out what’s going on in my head when it comes to her—and maybe even my stupid heart, something I didn’t even know I had.
We pass by groups of people, all of them stopping Pippa to try and talk to her. She politely answers their questions, but she’s good at ending the conversation early and moving forward. It’s not lost on me that I don’t love how she introduces me as her friend. I’ve never been her friend, and she’s acting like everyone here doesn’t have eyes and just didn’t see us with our tongues down the other’s throat.
I keep my mouth shut because there’s not much I could really say. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. We’d need to be more serious for that, and I don’t know if that’s what she wants. I know I don’t plan on even breathing in the same direction as another woman—it’d be no use. They’d never compare to the grip Pippa has on me. But does she feel the same way? Is there some man in this town who’s pining over her, just waiting for her to look their way? Is there someone here who’s broken her heart before? That she’s desperately waiting for him to look at her?
These are the thoughts that plague me as we walk along the dimly lit sidewalk. The gallery and cafe aren’t too far from us, but they’re in the opposite direction. I don’t know where she’s taking me, but I just follow her lead, too caught up in wondering if it’s too soon to ask her to be my girlfriend.
She must feel me go silent because she weaves her arm through mine and places her head against my shoulder. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”
I stare ahead, not really caring where we go. I’m too lost in thinking about what happens next for us. What do I want? What’s realistic? Most importantly…what does she want?
Pippa stops, turning to face me with her eyebrows raised. “You’re quiet. And not in the normal I’m Camden Hunter, and I’m broody kind of way,” she mocks, her voice going deep in a terrible impression of me. “But more like you’re in your head kind of way.”
I need to touch her and feel her skin against mine. Without any excuse, I reach out and brush my thumb along her cheek. She leans into it almost immediately. “I just got lost for a minute.” I look around us. “Where are you taking me, shortcake?”
She gives me a questioning glare for a few seconds before her face lights up with a smile. God, my heartbeat picks up at the sight of her smile. It’s radiant. I want to pull out my phone and capture it forever, wanting to always remember her looking at me this way.
“I’m taking you for a redo,” she states matter-of-factly.
My head cocks to the side. “A redo?”
I should be scared of the mischievous gleam in her eye. It can’t be good for me. She stuffs her hands in the pocket of my jacket, pulling me by the fabric to her. “Yeah, a redo. At Slopes. You’re going to make a better first impression on me.”
“I think first impressions are long gone. I’ve felt you come against my tongue.”
Her eyes bulge, her hand coming up and slapping against my mouth as she looks around us. There isn’t anyone within earshot, but she checks just in case. I smirk underneath her touch. God, it’s so fun ruffling her feathers and making her blush.
“Do it for me,” she pleads, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. I think I’d give her anything she wanted if she kept looking at me with those wide, adorable eyes. “I want to go up to the bar alone and have you slip behind me minutes later. I want you to buy me a beer—one that doesn’t get spilled. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll say yes to a dance with you.”
“What if I don’t dance?”
“You will for me.”
“You aren’t wrong.”
She beams at me, breathing life into my chest. I used to think it was cold, dark, and empty where my heart should be. The only person I ever really truly loved is Gran—and maybe Beck. But I thought it’d forever be desolate for a woman. It turns out I think it was just waiting for Pippa.
Before anything else is said, she loops her fingers through mine and pulls me toward the last place I want to be. I tried getting out of coming here the first time for hours. Beck wouldn’t hear any of it—more like Margo wouldn’t. It was their joint bachelor and bachelorette party, and Margo was determined to come to the country tourist bar. If anyone ever wanted to interrogate me, they could probably lock me in the bar for days, and I’d lose my mind. I don’t do country music, and I don’t do people in cheesy cowboy hats. Yet here I am, letting Pippa pull me toward the bar without any complaints.
If she wants a redo, I’ll give her one. It’d be good for us. I wish all the time I could take back the things I said to her in annoyance the first time we met. I was being an ass because I didn’t want to be there, and I took it out on her. This time, I’ll do better. I’ll buy her the cheap, nasty beer because she wants me to. I’ll pull her onto the dance floor, even though the classical technique I was taught as a child isn’t anything like the goofy line dancing that was happening last time we were here. I’ll let her teach me how to do the dances with all the cowboy wannabes. Then I’ll pull her off the dance floor and back her into a dark corner and show her how our first meeting should’ve gone.
Pippa eagerly jumps up and down as we wait in a small line to get in. “We need to get you a cowboy hat!” she declares.
I groan, shaking my head violently. “I draw the line at a cowboy hat.”
She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “You can’t go to Slopes without a cowboy hat.”
“Sure you can. I’ve done it before. Plus, I don’t see you wearing one.”
She rolls her eyes, smiling at someone in front of us who says her name.
The cowboy hat argument is dropped for a moment as we’re let inside. It’s busy, but not as busy as it was when I came for Beck’s bachelor party.
Beck can never find out I came back. He’d never let me hear the end of it. This will be a secret I take to my grave.
The smile on Pippa’s face as she leads me deeper into the bustle of the night makes me forget how much I hate this place. If she’s happy, then I’m happy. Even if it smells way too much like BO and cheap beer. I’d much rather be back at one of our houses with my face buried between her thighs.
She spins to look at me, eagerness on her face. “Okay, I’m going to go to the bar. In five minutes, you’re going to pretend we’re strangers and ask to get me a drink.”
“If another man tries to talk to you in that time frame, I’ll kill them.”
She pushes against my chest, rolling her eyes dramatically. “No one’s going to come up to me, Camden. Just you.”
I let out a low growl, but I don’t know if she hears it. I don’t think she realizes how stunning she is. Of course a man is going to try and speak to her. Just look at her.
She leaves me standing there alone, watching her shimmy her way to the bar. I stand against the wall, not taking my eyes off her. She’s too sexy for her own good. She’s far too dressed up for the bar tonight—we both are—which brings even more attention to her. I eye everyone around, and my fist clenches at my side when I notice a man staring her down from across the bar. He’s paying far too much attention to my girl for my liking. I try to ignore it because when I look back at her, she hasn’t noticed him. She’s lost in her own world, chatting with the bartender. They look friendly, but the man behind the bar she speaks to looks safe. He looks at her with fondness, not attraction.
I peek at my watch, finding it’s only been one minute since she went to the bar. How the hell am I supposed to stand here for four more minutes? Maybe I can go there now. Surely she doesn’t know the exact time I’m supposed to meet her at the bar.
I’m telling myself I’ll give it two more minutes when a man slides in next to her.
Oh, hell no. This man doesn’t look safe. He lets his hand brush down her back, pulling her into a hug that’s way too fucking friendly for my liking. I push myself off the wall, heading in their direction. Fuck the five minutes.
I force myself in between them, leaning over the bar in both of their views.
“What do we have here?” I growl, my eyes boring into Pippa’s.
“Hey, man, we’re busy,” the asshat trying to talk to Pippa says.
I let out a disapproving hum, not looking away from Pippa. “She’s not interested.”
The guy gawks, a weird sound coming from his throat. “Do you know this guy, Pip?”
Does she know me? “I’d say so. She was coming around my co—”
“No, Chase, I don’t know him,” Pippa interrupts, giving the guy an apologetic smile.
You’ve got to be kidding me. My blood boils with jealous rage. She’d told me she wanted to play this little game and pretend we didn’t know each other, but that was before some country prick started looking at her like he was imagining her naked.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” the guy—Chase, apparently—offers, brave enough to put his hand over Pippa’s.
I see red. Wrapping my hand around her middle, I pull her closer to me. “Let me buy you a beer,” I growl. The words are angry, sending a shiver down Pippa’s back.
“What the hell,” Chase calls, trying to wrap his fingers around Pippa once again. She drops her hand from his, fighting his attempts.
Good girl.
“Who are you?” I bite.
“Her ex. Who are you?”
My eyebrows rise as I look back at Pippa. “Ex?” My words come out cool and full of venom.
This just got a lot more interesting.
