I make out her curves from here, and her flowing strawberry locks dance in the breeze.
I stand watching her. There’s something about her that just catches my eye. Something different from all the rest that calls me to her and draws me in like a moth to a hungry flame, and it has nothing to do with those fucking long tanned legs I’ve already pictured wrapped around me.
I touch her shoulder startling her, her green eyes widen, and her pale cheeks redden.
Damn, she’s fucking beautiful.
"You look a little lost, Red.”
"No...um...I…No," she stutters nervously.
"Are you okay?" I place my hand on her arm, but she quickly steps back, acting like I shocked her.
"Um, yes, I'm fine," she stammers again, and I chuckle.
Oh Red. What is it about you that captivates me tonight?
Maybe it's the shyness or the wariness in her eyes that has me wanting to sink myself into her so we can get lost together. Or is it because her voice is like a siren's call that captivates me, though it shakes with a nervousness I'm not used to encountering.
"You don’t look fine.”
“I'm just a little chilled." She does have little goosebumps on her arms, but I don’t think it’s just from the cool evening air.
“I know I'm a stranger." I brush back a fallen strand of her hair behind her ear and she shivers in response. "But I promise I don't bite.”
Her whole face flushes brighter than before and there's a glimmer in her eyes that I swear is telling me she likes the idea.
"Why are you blushing, Red? Do you want me to bite?"
She slaps her hands to her cheeks, and I smirk. She's fucking cute. "You shouldn't be talking that way to me."
"Why not?"
"I don't even know your name."
"Let me fix that then. It's Liam."
"Liam." She repeats in a daze, but I'm confused by why she seems shocked to hear my name.
"Yep. And what about you, Red. You have a name?"
“Girl, there you are!” Someone shrieks as they step outside from the bar, interrupting us before I’m able to get her name. A bouncing blonde puts her arm around Red’s shoulder. “I was worried you were going to blow me off,” Red’s friend says before turning to me and eyeing me curiously. “Who are you?”
“Nobody,” I mutter as the bubble between Red and I officially bursts.
But it’s also the smell from the bar that has drifted outside that reminds me of where I am and makes me take a step away from them. Red isn’t the only temptation lurking in front of me.
Fuck, I need to go.
“Well, nobody, do you want to join us inside?” the friend asks, and Red nods.
As much as I want to follow her in and get to know little Miss Red better, I don't. I can't go into that place.
Not tonight.
I wouldn't just try to get lost in Red.
I would also try to get lost in the demons that I’ve tried way too fucking hard to put to rest.
“Not tonight, ladies, but you have fun.”
"Are you sure? I can buy you a drink. You look like you need it,” Red says, and I swear it’s as if she can see right through me. All my guards go up, and I back away.
She can see my weakness. She sees the trouble. I can’t have her.
“Have a nice night, Red.”
CHAPTER TWO
HOLLY
I press two color swatches against the wall as I try to decide if I want to go with a sky blue or stick with a crème color for my living room.
These are the decisions I've been dying to make for myself since I moved out of my parents' basement in Tampa to my own place back in my hometown of Tallahassee.
Thanks to my past clients, the Holdens, I was able to save enough for a down payment on a condo. Throwing down the crème swatch, I find the pale pink and turn to my best friend, Terry Lynn, who has made herself comfortable on my couch, sipping a glass of wine.
"Pink or blue?" I ask, looking between both the color swatches.
"Huh? It's not a baby’s room. Neither." Terry scoffs.
She's right. I'm an interior designer, and I never thought designing my own place would be my hardest design yet. I throw both swatches down and pick up my book of color swatches to flip through it.
"I don't want a white. Maybe I should go with a pale green.”
"I think you should put the color strips down and we should go out tonight," Terry says as she crawls over the couch and snatches the book out of my hand. “We are too young to be cooped up painting.” She tosses the book on the ground.
“Hey.” I reach down to grab the book, but she stops me.
“Listen.” She takes my face in her hands. “Tilted Keg is having a Ladies Night. Half-priced drinks and wings. It’s a clear sign for us to go.”
"I can't," I say flatly and look down the hall of my condo, then down at myself. I'm still in my gray sweats and an oversized t-shirt, which are covered in paint spackle. I’m in no shape to go out. Terry is supposed to be helping me decorate and paint; instead, she’s been talking and drinking my wine while I do everything.
"You can," she says firmly. "I have it all set up for you. You haven't been out since you've moved back. You need to let down your hair, meet people. Start schmoozing to get some clients."
"At a bar?" I narrow my eyes at her. She’s
