Page 4 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
“Hmmm, what?” I jerk my eyes away from him, slurping enthusiastically at my cocktail and giving my head a nonchalant shake, as if I don’t know who the hell she’s referring to.
“Teddy,” she hisses, leaning forward with concerned dark brows, and her Cupid-bow lips thinned in disapproval.
“No,”I say, forcing my mouth into a scowl of disgust. “No way. Just generally looking in that direction.”
“Good,” she says. “Because he’s the last thing you need right now.”
I love Haley, and I’m not going to argue with the bride-to-be on day one of this week-long gathering. Still, a quick no-strings-attached fling might beexactlywhat I need.
And if Teddy “Heartbreaker” Hargrove keeps looking at me like that, by week’s end I could be powerless to resist—adding a finishing touch to the cliché of my life as the bridesmaid who sleeps with a groomsman.
I drag my eyes away, but I know they’ll find their way back to him soon. He’s like a bright street lamp on a dark night, and I’m a moth stunned into stupidity by the light, ready to fling myself against him, even though it may well be my undoing.
Oh, I’ve been warned about Teddy. Not just by the tabloids and social media screaming reports about the way women rotate in and out of his life faster than the bench in a basketball game. Haley’s cautions come directly from the source.
Her brother, Ollie Templeton, frontman for the band, and her soon to be husband, Christian, their lead guitarist, make no secret of drummer Teddy’s indiscretions. But the way they laugh them off is kind of intriguing, as if he has some hidden redeeming quality, a get out of jail card, that allows him to be the stereotypical rock star man-whore and get away with it.
I can see why you’d want to be indiscreet with Teddy. It’s not just my Scottish blood that stirs heat inside when I see those deep red curls. His hair is the colour of maple syrup, shiny and thick, with a sexy dishevelled look that begs a girl to run her fingers through it. It’s longish, turning up in unruly tendrils at his collar.
He’s clean-shaven, skin like milky coffee, youthful. No surprise, since he’s the youngest of the group. Certainly much younger thanI am, but hey, if reverse age gap is doing it for my friend Jenna, why not for me?
The long-lashed brown eyes, like a well-aged single malt whisky, project a puppy-dog innocence. Maybe those dreamy eyes are the reason all the girls he’s hooked up with can somehow forgive him when he inevitably moves on. In a strange irony, he’s the only blatant womaniser in the band, yet none of his exes have a bad word to say about him. The tabloids must hate that, never having real dirt to dish.
My eyes are drawn back to that sensual mouth. Which, right this moment, is twisting into a seductive smirk as he heads my way.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, trying to keep focused on Haley, but in my peripheral vision marking every step of lean legs in skinny black denim, large feet encased in worn Vans strolling casually towards me.
Haley tosses me an “I told you so” look, as Teddy arranges himself on the broad arm of the sofa, grinning down at me. He crosses one ankle over his knee, cocky as fuck, angling his body towards me.
“Rachel, right?” He leans back, relaxing one arm along the back of the sofa, an inch away from my shoulders. “You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, I hear.”
Yep, Teddy is my partner in the wedding party. Now I’m wondering how I’m supposed to keep a landslide of lustful thoughts from spilling across my face, or ignore the heat pulsing between my legs just because he’s close, while I’m meant to play the demure bridesmaid.
“Yeah,” I choke as I accidentally inhale a mouthful of mojito instead of swallowing. My face flares, and I hack out a cough.
“You okay?” Teddy leans over me in genuine concern as I continue to splutter like one of Haley’s dogs puking up a piece of bone, tears streaming down my face.
“Yes, okay,” I wheeze. “Went…down…wrong way.”
His large hand massages my back, rubbing up and down, his worried gaze fixed on my face, mere inches away. Still coughing, I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to gulp air while not spraying him with saliva. My other hand reflexively clutches at his knee in panic as I struggle for breath.
Teddy grabs the glass of water Loreena’s thrusting at me and, like a caring parent, steadies it against my lips. I take small sips, the cool liquid offering welcome relief.
“Thank you,” I rasp out.
His free arm slides up to curl across my shoulder, his thumb tracing soothing circles. I close my eyes and relax into it, stifling a moan of relief as slowly my breathing stabilises.
“Better?”
I pull myself back into focus, and meet his eyes. I nod, still hoarse from coughing, embarrassment stealing what voice I have left. His fingers still trace lightly over the bare skin of my neck, and I’m hyper-aware of their calloused warmth. I snatch my hand from his knee, suddenly certain I’ve gripped hard enough to leave finger marks on the taut thigh beneath his jeans.
“Easy there, yeah? Bloody hell, I’ve barely said hello and you’re already gasping.” Even still unbalanced from my brush with death, I’m not immune to his playful wink. “Save that for the aisle. You—on my arm—we’ll have the whole room holding its breath.” Dark eyes rove my body, and the heated intention in his gaze provokes an echoing flush in my cheeks.
“Oh, Teddy, please.” Haley shakes her head. “Do you evernotflirt?”
The tone is admonishing, but she’s smiling across at him anyway. Yeah, that’s the Teddy effect right there. Honestly, his kind of charisma is a walking red flag. This guy could charm the pants off anyone, but tempting as it is I’m not going to let him think he can just charm his way into mine.
“Nah. If you’ve got it, why not?” he grins, all perfect white teeth and boyish dimples. My resolve to resist him instantly wavers.
