“Okay then,” Lennox begins. “So you’ve met my roommate Avery. The hottie beside her is my boyfriend Mick.” I try not to blink too much in surprise. I would expect a boyfriend of Lennox’s to have the same kind of artistic vibe, but this guy looks straight country, right down to the worn out old boots. I try to keep up while she introduces the rest of the people in the room to me. Kim and Krista (sisters). Dan and Eric (preppy boy next door types). Jack (another hipster with prettier hair than most girls I’ve seen). Then she starts to move fast enough that I lose track of which name belongs with which person, but somewhere on right side of the room are an Olivia, a Morie, and a Jane. Some are direct friends of Lennox. Others she introduces as friends of friends that needed a place to chill on the holiday. And overall, the group is undeniably eclectic. But they’re all at ease as they sit around the living room chatting. Though that could have something to do with the immense amounts of alcohol bottles and cans and glasses littered across the coffee table and bookshelves and every other flat surface.
After the official introductions, Lennox leans close to give me some more specifics, and that’s when I realize what really connects them all. “Avery is a painter, obviously. Though some days, I swear I have to convince her to believe it. Jack too. I’ve known him since freshman year, and met Avery through him. Mick does wood and metal work. He’s built a lot of the furniture in the room. Kim and Krista are in the fashion design program with me.” By the time she’s finished, it’s evident that everyone in the room has some kind of artistic talent, and I understand now how all these different people could fit together.
“So how does Kalli fit?” I ask.
“Hmm?” Lennox tilts her head to the side, and her eyes are a little unfocused.
“Kalli. You guys are all artists of one kind or another, so what is she?”
Lennox frowns. “Kalli is … She’s not an artist. Not really. But she’s incredibly knowledgeable about it all, so she fits right in. She can talk building stuff with Mick and clothes with me and art with Jack. She’s just one of those people who is an incredibly good sounding board, you know? She’s only been hanging out with us for about a month and half, but everyone really loves her. Jack even painted her. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure he would give his left testicle to be with her, but she hasn’t really showed much interest so far.”
My eyes flick to Jack, and I try not to tense, but even drunk, Lennox picks up on my reaction. “Relax, Dazzler,” she says, laughing. “I asked her about you after you left, you know. She blushed. It’s the most reaction I’ve ever seen out of her with a guy. And believe me, she gets hit on … a lot.”
I scowl. She’s fucking gorgeous. So, it’s not like I thought there wouldn’t be any competition, but Jesus. Lennox laughs again. “Well, this is a fun game.” I turn my glare on her. “She wouldn’t answer any of my questions about you. She said it was nothing, but I’m pretty good at reading people. The look she had after you left? Totally not nothing.”
My eyes skip back to Jack. He’s good looking, especially with all that hair of his. “He really painted her?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. It’s good, too.”
Damn.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Lennox says. “If you want to get to dazzling.”
She points the way, and I don’t care how transparent I am as I move immediately in that direction. She grins and whispers, “Good luck,” at my back.
And I need it. I need it so fucking bad.
Because as I step through the entry, I see Kalli leaning against a carved wooden island. Her eyes are closed, and she has an empty wine glass pressed against her full lips. For a moment, I just take her in. She wears dark jeans that hug the smooth shape of her thighs. A gray sweater clings to her waist and breasts, and she looks effortlessly beautiful. Stunning in a way that’s hard to put into words, but I feel it like a punch to the gut. Her chest rises on an inhale, and I find myself breathing in tandem.
She exhales, and I take a step farther into the kitchen. The floor creaks, and her eyes pop open. They land on me, and as her expression morphs into shock, the glass slips right out of her hand and shatters at her feet.
Chapter Twelve
I notice she's barefoot a second after the glass breaks, and I move on instinct. I reach her in two long strides, wrap an arm around her waist, and lift her off the ground. I settle her on top of the island counter before glancing down to make sure she hasn't been cut.
The light reflects off a few tiny shards along the top of her foot, and near one is a tiny dot of blood.
“Stay there,” I order, before crossing to the sink. I grab a paper towel, fold it into quarters, and then turn on the faucet just enough to dampen it. I cross back to her, and the glass crunches beneath my boots.
I cup my hand around her heel, and lift the foot up where I can see it better under the light. I don't want to drag the towel across it because if there are any little slivers of glass, they could still cut her. So I bend over and carefully blow along the top of her foot to remove any debris.
She sucks in a breath above me, and grabs my shoulder at the same time that I wipe at the tiny knick.
I look up, wondering how that possibly could have hurt her, but that thought flees as I take in her expression. She's gripping the edge of the counter hard, and her mouth is open, frozen on an inhale. And her eyes are on me, and … damn. This is what I had hoped to see when I ran into her in that shop. She's looking at me the way she had in my shower, moments before it stopped being playful and started being about how quickly I could get my hands on her skin.