Shaken Not Stirred (Mixology) (12 page)

“You want to keep me around? That’s quite a
romantic statement.”

“I promised you a surprise. I didn’t promise
you romance.” A tiny smile played on the corner of his lips, making
me even more curious about what he had up his sleeve.

My curiosity was satisfied moments later when
he pulled into a small parking lot.

I looked around at where we were. “Why are we
stopping?”

“Because we’re here.”

“At a lighthouse? It’s got to be closed.”

“It is closed.” He turned off the engine, got
out and came around to open my door.

“Then why are we here?”

“Just trust me on this.” He took my hand, and
we walked the path to the lighthouse. In the distance I saw a
figure leaning against the structure.

I decided to take Colin up on his challenge
and trusted him.

“Hey, man, it’s all yours.” A guy maybe a
year or two older than me nodded up at the lighthouse.

“Thanks, I owe you.”

Still trying to make sense of things, I
followed Colin into the base of the towering brick structure.
Colin’s flashlight was the only thing lighting our way up the
hundreds of steps in the spiral staircase. I held onto the metal
railing, wondering what Colin had waiting for us. Surely he wasn’t
having me climb that many steps for the fun of it. I’d heard there
was a gorgeous view, but I doubted we’d be able to see much so late
at night.

Nearly to the top, he leaned down to whisper
to me. “Stay back for a minute. I need to set something up.”

“Okay. I’m going to trust that you’re not
leading me to my death.”

He laughed. “You can trust me.”

I waited, trying not to let the thought that
I was in a hundreds-of-year-old structure late at night freak me
out.

“Maddy?” Colin called down. “Can you see well
enough to make it up?”

“Sure.” I slowly made my way up the last
three steps and my jaw dropped for the second time that night.

“Okay, I’m impressed.” I took in the pillar
candles, the rose pedals, and the cushions strategically placed on
the floor of the circular room. Then my eyes went to the bottle of
champagne waiting on ice. “I thought you said this wasn’t going to
be romantic?”

“No. I said I didn’t promise romance…that
didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give it to you.” He grinned, clearly
happy with my response.

“This is impressive.” The setup blew any
previous romantic gesture anyone had done for me out of the water.
I couldn’t believe he’d go through so much effort for a date.

“Good. Glad to know I was successful.”

“But isn’t this illegal? I mean, the
lighthouse is closed.”

“I work with some people who work here.”

“That’s kind of vague.” Colin didn’t strike
me as the rule breaking type, so I assumed there was a good
explanation.

“It’s not worth going into the details.”

“You like the whole mysterious vibe, don’t
you?”

“Only if it works.”

“It’s kind of sexy.” It was, even if it also
went counter to the image I had of Colin. I’d viewed him as a
“straight and narrow, vanilla and sort of boring—although extremely
attractive”—guy. He was more interesting than I gave him credit
for. Certainly more than his IPA preference suggested.

“There is one more thing.” He opened a small
cooler I hadn’t noticed on my initial perusal.

“Are those chocolate-covered strawberries?” I
didn’t bother to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“I remembered how much you liked them.”

“You are really scoring points tonight.”

“That was the plan.”

“It looks like you have your movie partner.”
I took a strawberry, more excited about the decadent fruit than the
champagne waiting for us.

“Oh yeah? You’re agreeing to weekly movie
viewings?”

“Yes. You earned it.”

“Good to know.” He poured us each a glass of
champagne.

I took a sip, enjoying the way the bubbles
felt on my tongue. “Can we go outside?”

“Yeah, be my guest.” He held open one of the
glass doors.

I leaned against the railing, loving the wind
on my face, and not caring that the breeze was probably making a
rat’s nest out of my hair. There is something about the wind on the
ocean that leaves me breathless—it’s almost an emotional
experience. Add in the champagne, and the hand resting on my back,
and I was sort of in heaven. I say “sort of” because I couldn’t
shake the feeling that I was living someone else’s life.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he yelled over the
howling wind. “The sheer power of the wind and the waves.”

“I know. It feels like we could fly off this
lighthouse and lose ourselves in the waves.”

“I won’t let that happen.” His hand moved
from my back to my waist, and he pulled me back against him. I
snuggled into his strong chest.

His lips tickled the back of my neck as he
brushed them again my skin. “The Outer Banks aren’t even supposed
to exist.”

“You mean because of the water—how they
change so much?”

“Yeah. That’s what the barrier islands are
for. They protect the Outer Banks from the brunt of the storm.”

“Who protects the barrier islands?” I rested
my hand in the crux of his arm.

“If I were religious, I might say God. But
I’m not. They’re kind of like sacrificial lambs doing their
part.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Or heroic. That is, if land can be
heroic.”

“Anything can be heroic.” I snuggled back
into him more.

“You think of things so differently from
everyone else I know.”

“Or maybe I just say what’s on my mind. I’m
tired of filtering my thoughts and feelings.”

He ran his hands over my arms. “Good. I don’t
want you to. I like knowing what’s going on in that head of
yours.”

“Right now, I’m content.” I turned around in
his arms.

“Content is good.” He put a hand on either
side of me, pushing me back against the railing. “Happy would be
better.”

“Why? Content is just as good.”

“Happy is better.” His eyes bore into mine as
though he were trying to convey his message through them. “I want
to make you happy.”

“That’s a big statement to make about someone
you barely know.”

“You don’t think I know you?” The
disappointment in his voice was palpable.

“No.”

“Wow. No hesitation.” He let out a short
breath. “Then how do I get to know you?”

“How do you know you’ll like what you
find?”

“I will.” He stepped back, taking my hand to
walk us back inside. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?” Without the wind, I
wasn’t so comfortable being open.

“How a girl as beautiful and cool as you
could have such a poor self-image.” He closed the door behind us,
cutting off the sound and feel of the howling wind.

“My self-image is fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He picked up his champagne
flute from the floor where he left it. “I wish I knew who messed it
up.”

“What makes you think someone did?”

“The other option is that it’s all about this
med school rejection thing. I don’t believe that.”

“Why not? Is losing your dream not worth
getting down over?”

“This is not about being down. It’s about
being down on yourself. It’s different. And was it really your
dream? You make it sound like it was your parents’.”

“For a guy trying to impress me, you’re
treading on thin ice.” I turned to look back outside.

“Yeah, well, I’m not always the best at
holding my tongue.”

“Me neither. Can we drop this conversation? I
can think of much better things to do right now.”

“Yeah. I can think of better things too.” He
took my champagne out of my hand and set it down next to his own.
“Much better.” His arms came around my waist, pulling me close
again, as his lips brushed against mine.

I moved my lips against his, wanting my dose
of cinnamon and so much more. I bit his lower lip, and he groaned,
opening up to me as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

The kiss deepened, and I slipped a hand under
the front of his t-shirt, exploring the muscular planes of his
chest as his hand glided across my stomach. I mentally willed his
hand to move higher, and when my wishful thinking failed me, I used
my own hand to show him that I wanted him to explore.

He didn’t need much prodding. His hand found
my breast, cupping it over my bra before moving over to the next.
This time he slipped his hand under my bra, intensifying the
sensation and making me need his touch more. His other hand moved
up my skirt, a finger slipping under the elastic of my panties, but
moving no farther. “We should stop.”

“Yeah, too many windows,” I joked. That late
at night the windows weren’t a problem.

He laughed, but then got serious. “I think
our first time should be some place a little more private. We don’t
have to rush anything.”

I wanted to argue that we didn’t have to have
sex, that I was more than happy to find other outlets of
satisfaction, but I didn’t like the way that would make me sound.
We could handle waiting until we got back to one of our places if
that’s what he wanted. But was it what I wanted? Did I really want
a guy who could hold off having sex with me because he didn’t like
our location?

His lips teased my neck one more time. “It
won’t be long.”

Yes. I did want this guy despite his
iron-clad resistance.

“This is a weird time to ask this, but I
probably won’t unless I do it now.”

“What?” My mind, foggy from lust, tried to
predict what he’d ask.

“I have a bit of a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?” Those words made me nervous.
Favors usually weren’t good things.

“I’ve been talking about you to my friends…”
He didn’t sound as happy about that statement as I would have
hoped.

“Oh, is that a bad thing?”

“No. Of course not. But I may have made us
sound more serious than we are.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I can’t
shut up about you.”

I bit back a smile. Colin was so cute
sometimes. “So what’s the favor?”

“I’m a groomsman in a wedding next weekend,
and I’m supposed to bring you.”

“Supposed to bring me?”

“Yeah, I understand if you don’t want to go,
but I’d like it if you did.” He laced his fingers with mine. His
breathing was normal, but the heated look in his eyes hadn’t
disappeared. I fought the urge to start kissing him again. For
whatever reason, he wanted to take things slow, and as hard as it
was, I was going to find a way to respect that.

“Where’s the wedding?”

“Raleigh.”

“Are you staying overnight?”

“I have a hotel for two nights.”

“Oh.” A hotel with Colin sounded
appealing—especially at that moment. Meeting his friends and going
to the wedding of people I didn’t know didn’t sound so great.

“But it’s a suite with a bed and a pull-out
couch. No expectations that we sleep together.”

I guess that meant he wasn’t taking me home
with him. I tried to let the disappointment mitigate before
answering. “You think that’s why I’d say no?”

“No. I bet you have a hundred reasons to say
no. But I’d love it if you said yes.”

“This is next weekend?”

“Yes. I know it’s late notice.”

“I’ll see if I can get off.”

“Wait. Seriously? You’ll go?”

“And you say I have bad self-image.”

He laughed. “I was trying to keep my
expectations reasonable.”

“I can’t promise anything until I talk to
Max.” Was I really agreeing that easily? Was I doing it for the
hope of sex—or was I going because he wanted me to?

“Awesome. I’ll make it a fun weekend.”

“You’re all about making things special,
huh?”

He took my face in his hands. “Yes, when it
comes to you.”

Max had no problem giving me the weekend off.
I took the afternoon shift on Friday, even though I knew the place
would be dead, and I’d be lucky to make anything in tips.

Macon came by around three to keep me
company. His job was as slow as mine now.

“You need to call your parents.” Macon took
his eyes off the tower of straws he was building.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because they’re worried about you. I don’t
want them coming here to check on you.”

“They’re not coming here.”

“You want to bet? I may have told them that
you’re living with a guy twice your age and making meth in the
basement.”

I could only stare at him. It had to be a
joke.

“The funny part is your dad was more
concerned about the guy than the drugs.”

I checked to make sure Max wasn’t around
before spraying Macon in the face with the water. “You are
something else.”

“What the hell is up with you and getting me
wet?” He wiped off his face with his t-shirt. “There are much more
fun ways to do that.”

“Please no sex jokes when we’re talking about
my dad.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’d think after all these
years your dad would get my sense of humor.”

I groaned, taking a seat on a stool. “He’s
never going to get it.”

“Just call them. They’re your parents.
They’re harmless people, a little neurotic at times, but nice. You
can’t be that scared.”

“That’s what you think. They would never show
you their scary side.” I stared at the screen of my phone. The
background photo was of my Labradoodle, Tiny. The name was a joke.
Tiny was huge. He was also in Charlottesville with my parents.

“I’m calling, but I expect you to make an
excuse to get me off the phone in five minutes.”

He grinned. “Oh, I’ll come up with an
excuse.”

“No meth or older men.”

“How about younger men? You’re kind of young
to be a cougar, but maybe you’re dating a college freshman or
something.”

“No younger boys either.” I walked out from
behind the bar. “But for the record, you couldn’t pay me enough
money to date a guy that young.”