The Bad Boy's Seduction (Bedding the Bad Boy Book 2) (2 page)

“She did.” Colton leaned forward, snagging one of the menus from the wooden coffee table in front of them. “But I doubt she had to call in too many favors. The owner is crazy about her.”

Intrigued, Olivia shifted in her seat, turning to face him. “You’re kidding. Matty O’Sullivan is crazy about Daisy?” He nodded and she clapped her hands in a flutter of excitement for her friend. “Why didn’t she tell me they’re dating? He’s such a cutie.”

Colton’s eyes narrowed before he shrugged. “Probably because they’re not dating. He keeps asking, but she keeps saying no.”

“What?” Olivia’s hands flopped into her lap. “Why? He seems so nice. And isn’t he good friends with Blake?”

“They’re practically the same person,” Colton said, tossing his menu back onto the table. “That’s the problem. Matty’s a solid guy, but he’s like Blake. He likes to be in control and Daisy has enough bossy older brother types in her life. I think she’s looking for a man who’s a softer touch.”

“I can understand that,” Olivia said. “But if she gets someone too soft she’ll run over the poor man.”

Colton shrugged. “Maybe that’s what she wants. All I know is that for a woman who’s obsessed with hooking up everyone else in town, she rarely leaves her house after seven o’clock.”

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe she’s afraid of what will happen if things don’t work out.”

“Daisy’s not afraid of much,” Colton said with a laugh.

“I know, but it’s hard to break up in a town this size. It really is. At least in a city you can shop at a different grocery store or switch health clubs. Here, you’re stuck running into Mr. Wrong every other day for the rest of your life.”

Colt frowned, but before he could speak, their server, a harried girl with a floppy brown bun on top of her head and blue, Frozen Dead Dude earrings dangling from her ears appeared in front of their coffee table.

“Sorry about the wait,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the din. “Are you ready to order?”

“I think so.” Colton cast a curious glance Olivia’s way. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Olivia said, smiling up at the waitress. “I would like the carrot cake pancakes and an iced coffee with extra room for milk.”

“And I’ll have the breakfast sampler,” Colton said. “Eggs over easy, extra bacon, and a coffee.”

“Iced or regular?” The server scribbled on her pad before reaching down to collect their menus and tucking them beneath her arm.

“Regular,” Colt said, grinning at Olivia as the waitress thanked them and hurried away to drop their menus at another table.

Olivia shook her head in mock disapproval. “Living dangerously, Brody. I thought we were sticking to iced coffee for safety’s sake.”

“Like you said, I figure we’re finished with bad luck for the day. And I can’t stand cold coffee.” He settled back into the cushions, close enough to set her nerves to tingling again. “Let’s talk more about small town break-ups.”

“Do we have to?” she asked, smiling at the busboy who had stopped to deliver water and silverware to their table. “I’d rather talk about my pancakes and how they are going to be moist and fluffy, with finely grated carrots, plump little raisins, and a cheesecake and honey drizzle that will make my taste buds explode with appreciation for their artisanal awesomeness.”

“Is that why you’re anti-emotions?” Colt asked, stubbornly refusing to be drawn off subject though he did look a little jealous of her impending breakfast. “Afraid of small town romance?”

Her cheeks heated as she remembered where this conversation had led them the first time and suddenly wished she’d ordered a mimosa instead of a coffee. She didn’t usually drink before noon, but then she didn’t usually ask Colt Brody if he wanted to be her secret lover, either.

“No, I told you,” she said with what she hoped was a casual shrug. “I just want to enjoy being back home without a bunch of drama.”

“Home to stay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Home to stay.”

His gaze grew serious. “So does that mean you’re never going to date again?”

“No,” she said, blinking at the unexpected question. “I’m sure I’ll date someone. Eventually.”

“Even though things might end badly,” he pressed, “and you’ll have to run into Mr. Wrong every other day for the rest of your life?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you so concerned about me and Mr. Wrong?”

“I’m not,” he said seriously. “I’m concerned about you and Mr. Right. You deserve to find him. You’re a sweet girl.”

Olivia didn’t know whether to blush harder, roll her eyes, or curl into a ball and die of embarrassment.

In the end, she settled for glaring at him as she reached for her water glass.

“What?” he asked, laughing as she continued to shoot daggers at him over the rim of her glass. “You
are
sweet. Bossy and opinionated as hell, but also tender-hearted and the kind of person who needs love in her life.”

“I get it.” She set the water back on the table with a thunk, shame making her cheeks heat. “We can let it go and never talk about it again, okay? You don’t have to let me down easy.”

Colt shook his head but before he could speak again, Olivia turned and lifted her hand, catching their server’s attention as she hurried by.

“Could you make my iced coffee a mimosa?” she asked, then added quickly. “Actually, two mimosas.”

The girl gave her a thumbs up and whipped her pad out of her apron as she headed toward the bar.

“Olivia, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine.” She forced a smile as she reached for her water, needing to keep her fingers occupied so she wouldn’t bury her face in her hands and hide. “For real. No big deal. But we’re not going to talk about it. Ever.”

Colt leaned closer. “Liv, please.”

“Ever,” she repeated, her voice wavering dangerously. “Seriously, Colt, if you try to talk about it I am going to get up and leave and you will have to eat all of our food and drink both of my mimosas all by yourself.”

He held her gaze for a long moment before he sat back with a sigh. “Fine, but you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I mean, I started it, even though I should have known better and—”

Olivia stood, but before she could make a break for the door, Colt captured her elbow in his big hand and tugged her back down to the couch beside him.

CHAPTER THREE

Olivia

“Stay,” Colton said sharply, holding his arm out across her lap when she tried to stand again. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t say another word about it.”

“I think I would rather go,” Olivia said, hating that the feel of his hand on her thigh still made her tingle, even after he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested.

“Please. Stay,” he said gently, clearly not wanting the morning to end this way. “Orange juice makes me puke. Stay and drink your drinks and eat your food and we can talk about boring things like what color to paint our coffin for race day.”

“That’s not boring,” Olivia said, ignoring the flush heating her cheeks.

If she ran, she would never be able to look Colt in the eye again. She had to stay, live through this breakfast, and get back on track to being just friends.

“And the color has already been decided,” she continued. “Daisy and I put a coat of orange on last night. Tonight we’re painting the eyes, and then The Grim Peeper will be ready to roll.”

“The Grim Peeper,” Colt said, making a considering sound. “I wanted to call it Fuego Muerte and paint flames on the side.”

“Fire death?” Olivia spotted the waitress approaching with their drinks and tried to keep from looking too eager. “That’s pretty twisted, Colt.”

“How’s that?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Because you almost died in a fiery plane crash,” she said, thanking the server as she reached for her first mimosa.

Colt grunted as he emptied two sugar packets into his coffee and stirred it thoughtfully with his spoon. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“How could you
not
think about that?” She downed the first half of her mimosa, relishing the champagne bubbles fizzing in her nose, promising a little numbness in her future.

“I don’t think about the crash much. At least not any more than I can help it.” He shrugged. “It’s in the past.”

“But the past shapes the present,” she said, taking another sip. “There’s no way to avoid it. The past is part of who we are.”

“Not me,” Colt said, like the cocky, know-it-all she remembered from high school, the one who ignored her good advice and continued to ride his dirt bike without a helmet until the day he got his first concussion. “What’s done is done. I wake up with a fresh slate every day.”

Olivia harrumphed.

But instead of saying any of the things on the tip of her tongue, she tipped her champagne flute back and emptied her glass.

If Colton weren’t shaped by the past, he wouldn’t have passed up on an offer to have hot, no-strings-attached sex. Casual banging was practically his raison d’etre. He was as infamous for his long string of lovers as he was his bravery and commitment to his family and friends.

Bottom line, Colton Brody was a manwhore—a lovable manwhore, but a manwhore nevertheless.

Before he had realized who she was, he had definitely been looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he wants to do more than catch when she falls from a fire escape. He’d practically undressed her with his eyes while she was standing there in her humping-unicorn pajama top, and he must have been feeling more than friendship today when he asked if she wanted to go on a date date.

But he’d let memories of the Olivia of the past shape his behavior toward the woman she was in the present. He had chosen to continue thinking of her as a sweet girl instead of a woman who knows what she wants—in the bedroom and out of it. A man who woke up with a fresh slate wouldn’t be pushing her away, but there was no point in arguing with him when his stubborn mind was made up.

And so she set her first mimosa glass down and reached for her second without saying a word.

“Tell me about Chicago,” Colt said, continuing his efforts to keep the conversation light. “Is there anything you’re going to miss?”

“The food was pretty amazing. And the comedy clubs,” Olivia said, willing to play her part to make the time pass peacefully until she could make her escape. “My girlfriend Bethany was in an improv troupe. I would go watch them every Friday night. It was a great way to unwind after a stressful week.”

He smiled. “Was accounting a stressful gig?”

“Totally stressful,” she said, taking another drink. “We were expected to work overtime every week. And forget about any kind of outside-the-firm life during the busy season. During crunch times, I would eat dinner at my desk five nights a week and head home so late I’d fall asleep on the train.”

“That’s crazy,” he said, his smile vanishing. “And dangerous.”

“At least I wasn’t driving home like some of the other junior partners.” She shrugged, enjoying the pleasant fizz in her blood as the champagne worked its magic, soothing away her regret and embarrassment. “But it was scary sometimes. One night I woke up on the train in the middle of a man unbuttoning my blouse.”

Colton’s eyes clouded over, growing a deeper, angrier shade of blue. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head and glanced away, the intensity of his gaze cutting through her buzz, making her feel tingly, hungry things she was determined not to feel around him anymore. “No. I was so startled I flinched and hit him in the face with the back of my hand. He ran off before the sliding doors closed.”

She licked her lips, tasting the sweet juice and sour champagne. “The funny thing was, he wasn’t one of the creeps you would expect to do something like that, you know. He was just this normal guy in a suit. Kind of pale and pasty-looking, but not scary.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looked like,” Colt said. “It matters what he did. And he deserved a lot more than a slap in the face for it.”

He took a swig of his coffee, grimacing as it went down. “Hearing shit like that makes me glad you’re home.”

Her mouth curved in a crooked smile. “Bad things can happen in Lover’s Leap, too, Colt. The only way to make sure nothing bad ever happens is to live inside a bubble.”

“Or to make sure you have someone watching your back,” he said, voice husky with concern.

If she didn’t know better, she would assume he was thinking of applying for the position of back-watcher. But she did know better and was grateful their server chose that moment to deliver their food, giving her an excuse not to respond.

Now all she had to do was eat as quickly as possible and this disappointing, embarrassing brunch would be over and she could go back home, change into her pajamas, and hide under the covers for the rest of the day.

And maybe by tonight she would have started to forget how nice it felt to laugh herself silly in Colt’s strong arms.

CHAPTER FOUR

Olivia

Olivia ate with record speed, eclipsing even Colt’s pace, which was saying something. The man had three older brothers and had grown up racing to be the first done with firsts so he could ask for seconds.