A Fine Mess (Over the Top #2) - Kelly Siskind Page 0,2

stubble would feel against my inner thighs.

Static, static, static.

Guilt always follows shortly, a stickiness I can’t shake.

“I don’t trust your taste in movies,” I say. “You only like the Marvel Comics ones.”

“Because they’re awesome.”

“Because they’re juvenile.”

He grins. “Juvenile is awesome, but these days they’re pretty dark and gritty. Also awesome.”

I lick some sauce from my fingers and glance over to catch him watching me. His gaze lingers on my lips. Without warning he reaches over and brushes his thumb across the corner of my mouth, those beautiful brown eyes turning midnight. His lips part. My pulse rockets. Then he blinks and pulls his hand back, and that slick of guilt returns, my belly a roiling mess.

“Just a crumb,” he says to the window in front of him, and picks up his wrap.

I should look away, but I can’t. I love how his eyelids slant down at the sides, giving him a lazy look. Relaxed. Laid back. Outside pedestrians battle the wind, hunched forward as they hurry by. Sawyer eats quietly.

But I’m a tornado.

If I don’t detach from the comfort and familiarity of my relationship, I’ll spin until I’m too dizzy to stand upright. If I do detach, my shopping might spin out of control, but I can’t keep living like this, can’t stay in a relationship that isn’t right.

It’s not a choice. It never was. It’s about courage. I’m not in love with Kevin and haven’t been for years. I have to break up with him. Finally. The possibility of being with Sawyer may be a catalyst, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if I’ve imagined the heat between Sawyer and me, I’ll find it with someone else. Another man who creates static and lights up my world. But I have to face Kevin tonight. Not chicken out this time. Not allow our history and my issues to undermine my intent.

Suddenly parched, I grab my iced tea and smile at the four straws on our tray—three for me, one for Sawyer. The first time I stuck three straws in my drink in Aspen, he looked at me like I was nuts. I explained I like to get maximum suckage, not realizing how dirty it sounded. He jumped on my faux pas and said, “I’m all for maximum suckage. Minimal suckage can be unsatisfying.”

After a morning of skiing, the two of us went for an early lunch, one of the few times we were alone on that trip. Being with Kevin, I wasn’t the type to enjoy harmless flirting with other men. I’d always excuse myself from an awkward conversation or clam up, but something about Sawyer was different. His unapologetic humor. The way we could spend hours talking about the cuts of ski jackets and fabric trends. How I couldn’t stop imagining kissing his full bottom lip.

Instead of shying away from the conversation, I said, “I agree. It’s all about technique.” That was as bold as I could get. If I were Raven or Shay, there would have been innuendo about where to place your tongue on the straw and how deep to take the plastic. I thought those things and likely blushed, but didn’t say them aloud.

He must have read my mind, sifting through my unspoken banter, landing on the heart of things. “It’s too bad you have a boyfriend,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind testing your theory.”

My cheeks burned.

That was the only time either of us has mentioned being more than friends and coworkers. Boss and employee. That was nine months ago, but I’ve never forgotten. I often wonder if he has. Then we have moments like today when he stands close, leans closer, and touches me longer than a friend would.

I don’t think he’s forgotten, either.

We sit on stools at the counter, side by side, eating in silence. Nothing has changed, but everything feels different. His knee is touching mine, his elbow brushing mine, his space invading mine, sending tingles to my toes.

Static, static, static.

He wipes his mouth, tosses his crumpled napkin on his plate, then eyes my half-eaten wrap. “I told you not to get that one.”

“It was good. I just wasn’t hungry.”

He checks his watch. “I should go. I have some things to do before my flight.” He studies me a beat, his gaze roaming my face, then he leans in to kiss my cheek. So, so slowly. So, so softly. His lips press against my cheekbone, his warm breath and closeness overheating my brain. He lingers. A platonic friend wouldn’t linger. A