Unwanted Stars, page 4
"No, um, no thank you. But it was delicious," I said, placing my tiny glass on the rustic wooden table.
The owner simply nodded and made his way through the tour members, offering them a chance to purchase wine. Most of them did. Lucky bastards.
After the winery tour and tasting was over, I was officially off the clock. A group of tour members, including the one whose name I refused to say because I was afraid he'd get under my skin if I did, asked me to join them at a local pub. But I felt Anabelle's eyes on me and I knew what Girl Scout Auden's answer needed to be.
"I'm going to call it a night," I said."But you guys have fun."
Glancing at the group as a whole, I simply nodded and gave them a wave. When my hand brushed against the side of my khaki shorts, I also felt a slight touch of warmth on the top of my hand. I knew who was touching me, but I still wouldn't look. Goosebumps rose along my arms.
"Are you sure? Just one drink?" I knew that voice. But I couldn't look at him. If I did, I'd change my mind. I'd get lost in those sexy eyes and forget all about the fact that the Sergeant was waiting for me to screw up. I had to be smart. I had to be strong. So, for a moment, I just focused on the sensation of his touch...the way he was slowly taking my fingers into the palm of his hand.
And then it happened. I looked at him. It was painful, and exciting, and torturous, and amorous, and...I choked. No seriously, I started choking. Most random thing to ever have happen. Needless to say, I looked ridiculous standing there choking in front of Mr. Sexypants.
"Breathe," he said softly. He took both of my hands in his, and I felt his breath against my neck as he slowly raised my arms above my head. "Just opening up your airways. Try to calm down."
Releasing one of my arms, he slowly dragged his fingertips up and down my spine, urging my body to calm. It did. I was able to catch my breath. Placing my hand over my heart, I looked at him again, only this time I was mortified. Did I seriously just choke on my own spit in front of the most beautiful man I'd ever come in contact with?
"I'm fine," I said, looking away. "Thank you."
"No trouble. Are you sure I can't get you to change your mind? We're not going to get pissed. Just toss back a few pints."
"Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to call my best friend. And I haven't spoken to her in a while, so..."
"All right. I can take a hint. Cheers then," he said as he joined the rest of the group.
"Yeah." I nodded. "See you in the morning," I replied before joining Anabelle and walking back to our hotel.
Once the door had closed behind me, I dug through my suitcase to find my calling card. I needed Hadley. I had to tell her about this man who had me completely intrigued.
She answered right away, thank God.
"Tell me about him," she said after just a few minutes on the line.
"I don't know that much. His name is Campbell, but his friends call him Hutch."
"Like Starsky & Hutch?"
"Exactly." I paused, loving that even across an ocean, she always got me. "He's tall, dark hair, chiseled chin, and his eyes are so intense…they're just...I don't know. He makes me feel weird."
"Weird how?" Hadley asked.
"Unsettled. Like...like I can't breathe around him. Like I'm always saying the wrong thing. And he's so polished. So freaking polite and polished, ya know?”
"Interesting."
"Tonight I literally choked when he touched me. I must've looked like the biggest idiot, but I couldn't help it. He touched me and I freaked!"
Hadley snickered and I knew that to some degree she was enjoying my frustration. Brat.
"Nice, Had. Kick me while I'm down."
"I don't mean to. But seriously, this is so unlike you. I don't think I've ever heard you sound so...so..."
"Pathetic?"
"No! Vulnerable. I can hear it in your voice. And using words like unsettled? No one's ever made you feel like that. You're into him."
"I know. But I can't be."
"Why not?"
"The Sergeant will have my ass on a platter. And then I'll be on a plane back to Chicago."
"Not necessarily," she said. Her voice sounded mischievous. So unlike my friend. Hadley was the ying to my yang. The sweet to my sour. The polite to my sass. The organized to my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants. Usually, I was the one with something up my sleeve. What a role reversal this was.
"What do you mean?"
"C'mon, Aud, you can be sneaky when you want to be. Figure out a way to spend time with him without Anabelle's radar going off."
"You think I can pull that off?" I asked, my wheels already spinning, wondering when I could possibly get time alone with Campbell without her breathing down my neck.
"Absolutely. Just be creative," she said. "Sweetheart, put that down, please."
"Huh?"
"Sorry, Marty somehow got a hold of one of Jason's books. I don't want him to suck on it. He's still putting everything in his mouth."
"Jase wouldn't care."
"I know, but I do," she said, before her voice changed and became soft and nurturing. "Thank you, sweet pea."
"How is the little one?"
"He's fantastic. Just getting into everything."
"Isn't that what toddlers do?"
"I guess so, yeah," Hadley said with a laugh.
"How are wedding plans?"
"They're coming along. We got the library."
"You did?" I screeched.
"Yeah," she said. She was holding back her excitement. She and her mom had been trying to secure her wedding reception at the Chicago Public Library as a surprise for Jason.
"Jase is going to shit himself," I said.
Hadley giggled into the phone. "God, I miss you."
"Me too." And I did. Badly.
"Do you think he'll be surprised?"
"Um, yeah...why else would he shit his pants? It's his favorite place in the world."
"I know. We're going to have the ceremony there, too."
"In the winter garden?" I asked. Before I left for Europe, Hadley and I had paged through Chicago Bride. I knew more than I ever thought I'd know about wedding receptions, chair rentals, appetizers, and flowers. And I'd learned all about the Chicago Library's accommodations. The winter garden is a European courtyard-style marble terrace covered with a fifty-two foot glass ceiling. It's positively stunning.
"Yep. Oh, and I'm going to send you a bunch of dresses to look at. I'll email them."
"I'll wear whatever you want. You're the bride."
"Seriously?" Hadley’s voice cracked in surprise.
"Why do you seem so shocked?
"Well, um, you've always had pretty strong opinions on wardrobe. And you hated the dress you had to wear for Maya's wedding."
"That's because it was the color of seaweed. You'd never pick out anything so hideous."
"Good point," she said.
"Okay, so back to Mr. Sexypants."
"Is that what we're calling him?"
"Yeah, I don't like to say his name."
"Why?"
"You'll laugh."
"Try me."
"Because it reminds me of soup." That really wasn't it. I was just biding my time, avoiding the subject in the best way possible by making my best friend laugh. And it worked. The laughter heard on the other end of the line went from a chuckle to a cackle almost immediately.
"Tell me the real reason," she said after calming down.
"Fine, okay, whatever," My eyes rolled, but I said nothing else.
"Auden..." Her tone was teacher-like. She meant business. I couldn't avoid it anymore.
"Because I like him. Way more than I probably should."
"I know you do."
"Okay...so now what?"
"Go get him."
I paused for a moment, thinking about Campbell, about Hadley and my brother, and how it took them forever to be with each other. I didn't want that. I thought about the clock on the wall and how I really wanted to put it in my suitcase. It was an antique cuckoo clock with little red birds that danced around each hour. It was calming and sweet, even though I was sure it was going to wake me up in the middle of the night. And because my stomach growled, I thought of soup. Tomato soup, to be exact. Which made me think of Campbell...and how much I wanted him to touch me again.
I sat down on the bed and heard a small crinkle. Not exactly a sound I'm used to hearing, unless I was carrying something in my pockets. But I wasn't...or at least I didn't think I was. My fingers dug into my pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper—a receipt. I flipped the small scrap of paper over and smiled. I knew exactly who’d placed it in my jeans.
"Challenge accepted," I said to Hadley, before folding the paper and placing it back in my jeans. Running my fingers through my curls, I walked confidently to the mirror hanging on the wall, widening my eyes as I turned my head from side to side. Makeup was fine, maybe just a little bit of perfume.
"Good girl," said my best friend. Smarty pants.
"I love you," Hadley said.
"Love you more."
"Get a grip, Aud. You've got this."
My hand pressed into the deep cherry wood of the pub door. I'd visited this bar with Tom during my first tour, and I remembered the large rustic clock above the bar. Taking a deep breath into my lungs, I searched for the clock—saw the tick of its minute hand and knew I'd be fine. I just had to find him.
Standing straight and tall, I scanned the bar. Couples were strewn about the place—it was about that time. Hook-up time in bar-ville. Have you ever noticed that? The clock strikes midnight and people immediately start to couple off to search for someone to keep their bed warm, to make them feel less alone. I'd been there, I'd done that. I was just as bad as the rest of them. And I was afraid that tonight I might be worse than ever because I was searching for him. The man I couldn't stop thinking about, the one who was rocking my world.
Across a small sea of cigarette smoking, beer drinking patrons, I saw that dimple. That simple pinch in the skin of his cheek that called to me as if it had its own personality. God, I loved that thing. He was involved in some sort of heated discussion with his friend, but seeing their smiles reassured me that they were just joking around, being macho men, puffing out their chests. The next thing I noticed was the lack of any women within a three-foot radius of Campbell. That observation pulled at the corners of my mouth in satisfaction, giving me the confidence I needed to stroll to his table.
His friend Ellis noticed me first, simply giving me a nod as I approached. The goofy grin on his face said it all. Campbell had been waiting for me.
"Here she is, mate." His words were slurred. Empty pint glasses were spread across the thick wood table.
Campbell shook his head from side to side, embarrassed by his friend's eagerness. A chuckle escaped my lips as I peered down at him. The dimple returned as he smiled up at me, quickly rising to his feet, placing his hand on the small of my back.
"How'd you know where to find us?" he asked.
"You know how," I said, narrowing my eyes. A smug, satisfied expression crossed his face. He knew his note had lured me. That scrap of paper that, aside from the name and address of the pub, simply read:
"Ah, that's right." Campbell grinned.
"Hard to resist a man with manners," I said with a smirk.
Ellis rose to his feet, steadying himself with Campbell's shoulder. "Back in a sec.”
"You all right, mate?" Campbell asked, patting him on the back.
Ellis let out a belch before nodding emphatically. "Just need the toilet." His gait widened as he made his way to the back of the pub. Campbell and I watched him—both concerned yet amused.
"Will he be okay?" I asked.
"He'll be fine. I'll check on him if I need to." He removed one of his hands from the worn pocket of his jeans and gestured to Ellis' seat. "Here, sit...please."
"Thanks," I said, looking around the pub.
"She's not here. Don't worry."
"What are you talking about?" I didn’t want to sound defensive, but I hated how he was so good at reading my mind. I barely knew this man and yet he seemed to crawl inside my head so easily.
"Anabelle. I know she's the reason you're toeing the line. Being all business."
"Oh, really. And you know this how?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
His top lip pulled up on one side, stretching into a smug grin before a non-committal shrug lifted his shoulders. "Just a hunch."
"Well, you're wrong. I'm a professional. It has nothing to do with her," I pressed my hands into my jeans as if to smooth out the fabric, as if they were starched khakis just like Anabelle's.
His hands lifted in mock surrender, "Okay, alright. Get you a lager?"
"Sure. Whatever you're having is fine."
He nodded and walked to the bar. All I could concentrate on was his ass. And if that's crude, I didn’t really care. He had the most perfect ass I'd ever witnessed on another human being. Perfect amounts of muscle and definition. His jeans pulled in all the right places, relaxed in all the others. God, I was in trouble. He returned just moments later with two pints filled to the brim.
"So, Auden...what's your story?"
"My story?"
"Mmm-hmm.” He sipped his beer. I wasn't really sure how to answer that question...what did he expect me to tell him? I wasn't going to spill my entire life story over a couple of drinks. Plus, if I was being honest with myself, I worried that I didn't really have all that much to tell. I had a happy childhood with almost no drama to speak of—at least nothing that wasn't self-inflicted. A loyal best friend who was more like a sister to me. I had a little difficulty reining in my inner bitch, but other than that, I led a pretty charmed life.
I'd taken too long to answer. I was making an ass of myself, and that was entirely unacceptable. This guy was into me. Why was I screwing this up? In that moment, I realized I needed to bring my A game. I needed to get him in line, show him that I was in control...not him. Even if I had to fight him for it, I would get that control back.
"Is that what you ask all the girls?" I teased.
"Perhaps.” His eyebrows raised, fingers pressed down into the rim of his glass. The pads of his fingers lingered and I found myself envying an inanimate object. I wanted his hands on me. Right here, right now. "Am I going to have to pull it out of you, then?"
"What, exactly?" I said, tilting my head to the side, brushing my hair behind my shoulders. I was stalling, but I was also seeing just how much he wanted to work for it. Was I worth his persistence?
"Everything."
"Well, that's a little vague."
"I only know your name. And that you're American."
"Indeed, I am.” I took a sip, feeling myself relax as I pulled the control back to my corner of the table.
"You seem comfortable here. Even though you're from the states. Like you've been here many times."
"I have." I smiled. "Sounds like you've got me all figured out."
"Almost."
"Tell me more," I said, placing my elbows on the table, leaning in closer to Campbell, studying his lips.
"You're stubborn...headstrong. You hate when people tell you what to do, which is why Miss Anabelle is driving you barmy."
I gave him a shy smile, not sure what to say. He hit the nail on the head with that one. He must've noticed my lips pressing together in discomfort. How on earth did he know these things? Was I that transparent?
"Oh, sorry...um, crazy. She drives you crazy," he clarified, realizing he'd used some heavy slang in an American's company.
"My mom's British. No need to translate," I replied.
"Seriously?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised and impressed as he eased back in his chair.
"She grew up in Beaconsfield. My grandparents still live there."
"Interesting. We'll get back to that. So, was I right about Anabelle? She drives you nuts, doesn't she?"
Without making eye contact, I nodded. A cocky laugh escaped his lips before he took another swig of his beer.
"Most women are stubborn. You're not so brilliant," I said, trying my hardest to sneer at him. It was difficult. He was just so...hot.
"I was just getting started," he said, leaning in again, his hands woven together, resting under his chin.
"Fine.” I narrowed my eyes and bit down on my bottom lip, hoping he'd be way off base with his next observation.
"You're fiercely loyal. Those closest to you will attest to that. Although you've probably burned bridges in the past...you were so loyal to one person and forgot the other."
I was stunned. Completely stunned. Was I being punked? Was my sister Maya going to jump out from behind the bar, pointing her finger and laughing at me for falling into her trap? I'd always been more loyal to Hadley than to my own flesh and blood sister. She'd always resented me, ever since the day I was born. What was I supposed to do? Hadley was, in many ways, the other part of my personality. She meant more to me than almost anyone.
"Am I getting warmer?" he asked, his fingertips grazing the skin of my elbow, pulling me from my conspiracy theories. Maya wasn't there. It was just me and the guy who made my skin feel like it was on fire. In the most delicious way possible.
"Perhaps," I replied, trying to ignore the tingles dancing up my arms.
Swimming in conflicting thoughts, I had no idea what to reveal about myself and what to keep hidden. I'd just met this man. And according to my contract, any type of physical relationship could put my job at risk. I didn't want that. But, I also didn't want this feeling to go away either.
"Thanks a lot, mate," said a drunk and slurring Ellis, back from the bathroom.
"Aww, shit. You alright?" Campbell asked, rising to his feet. He placed an arm around Ellis who was wiping his mouth with a napkin from our table.
Vomit.
Gross.
I held my breath, hoping not to smell it. If I did, I couldn't be held responsible for my heaving. I was a sympathy puker, and let me just tell you, I hate puking. Hate it with all that I am. Hadley says there's a phobia for it. I have no idea what it's called, but it applies to me. Puke is my nemesis.
