Page 172 of Small Town Firsts
After I’d paid—and insisted she wear the still blinking lights out of the store—Ally shook her head and aimed for the next shop. This time, we walked together. Our hands brushing back and forth, fingers colliding, wrists bumping. Neither of us making the grab.
Best friends didn’t hold hands. God knows we never had before. But tonight, I wanted to. I wanted her fingers to clutch mine as I pulled her in close by that strand of madly blinking lights and met her smiling mouth with my own.
I’d give my right nut to keep that grin on her face. Pay any price. Risk anything.
Even us.
In the next store, she browsed the kitchen gadgets and cookbooks and household knickknacks with her typical curiosity. Her gaze touched every item before her hands followed suit. I swallowed hard, imagining what it would be like to be the object of all that fascination.
To be her sole focus, even for an hour. For a night.
She bought a cow salt and pepper set and some hot cocoa mix and we headed to the coffee shop where we studied rows of truffles through the glass cases and debated hot apple cider or cappuccino. She went for the cider and I chose black coffee with a shot of maple.
Maple like the golden-brown eyes that smirked at me when I gave in and dumped some cream into my coffee.
Getting to black only was a process for me, one she was sure I’d never manage. She thought I enjoyed my sweets too much.
If she only had a clue.
Outside the rain had started anew, so we ducked into another shop, this one with ship memorabilia and nautical apparel. I grabbed her a tote bag and tucked her flamingo lights and her surprise present and her kitchen shop purchases inside then threw it over my shoulder, ignoring her laughter at the picture I made in my business suit.
Whatever. It was only half a business suit, since I had jeans on with the shirt, jacket and tie as always.
Perk of owning my own business. Casual Fridays were every day of the damn week.
The next time we slipped outside, the rain had lessened, so we decided to take that walk on the pier. The long length of it was draped in white lights, and the tiny flickers bounced off the rippling expanse of dark water that stretched far in the distance. At the end of the pier, she stopped and leaned over the railing, her dark hair billowing behind her in the wind. Her flirty dress clung to the backs of her thighs and her ass, and the illicit glimpse I took of both probably had something to do with why I crowded her against the rail. I didn’t move back as she stiffened and regained her full height, her ringed fingers suddenly clutching the rail.
“Personal space, Hamilton,” she tossed back, but she didn’t look me in the eye. “Ever heard of it?”
“I’ve been giving you all kinds of space.” Testing us both, I gripped a handful of the fabric swishing around her thighs. Step one to touching her bare skin. “Doesn’t seem like it’s getting me anywhere.”
“Since when is it supposed to? We’re friends, remember?” There was no missing the thread of desperation in her tone, even with the wind kicking up and making it harder to hear her.
I didn’t need to grasp every nuance in her voice to know how she felt. Her body was telling me with every rigid, unyielding curve. She was holding herself as far away from me as she could, practically leaning over the water.
Her reaction was a clear sign to back off. To steer clear.
Not interested, pal. Hate to break it to you.
I could almost hear her lobbing the words at me even in the heavy silence of the night. But it wasn’t completely quiet. There was the wind, and the lapping water, and my heartbeat thudding crazily in my head. In the distance, people were laughing, and music was playing, and life went on.
Out here, it had stopped. Suspended in a moment we’d never get back.
As if she sensed me moving too close, she whirled around, nailing me in the gut with her elbow then pressing her spine to the railing. Her gaze never lifted above my Adam’s apple. “Here we go. Should’ve known you’d try this. Always gotta close the deal, and so much for giving me space to make up my mind. Ha. Like you or Oliver ever give anyone a chance to say no. You cajole and wheedle and insist?—”
I braced my hands on the rail on either side of her hips. “I haven’t said a word about it tonight. You’re the one who has it in your head every time you look at me.” I dropped my voice. “Speaking of, why don’t you try doing that?”
“How am I supposed to not think about it? You didn’t ask me to go for takeout or on vacation. Hell, you didn’t even ask me to have a crazy fling, as insane as that would be.”
“Alison. Look at me.”
Her eyes flickered up to mine and away, holding on some far-off spot while the lights danced along the gold of her irises. She might not be able to meet my gaze for long, but I was riveted on hers. On how she couldn’t seem to take a full breath that didn’t shudder out between her parted lips. I didn’t look lower because I couldn’t. One glimpse of those perfect tits straining the cotton bodice of her dress and I’d be a goner.
When she didn’t make an effort to shift her focus to my face, I gripped her chin in fingers I deliberately kept gentle. I didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was.
Hell, any more than I was too at this moment. So much hung in the balance, far more than contracts and deals and egg meets sperm.
“I’m not forcing your hand,” I said quietly, staring at her eyes though she wouldn’t look any higher than my mouth. “I told you what I want, what is important to me and why. Now the ball’s in your court.”
