In This Moment (18 page)

   
“Yeah?”

   
“Yep. On the one side are the people who love the
Harry Potter
books and wish that they could attend Hogwarts and have Ron and Hermione for best friends and vanquish Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

   
She’s smiling at me, and she’s just so fucking cute. I have to ask: “And the other side?”

   
Aimee shrugs. “Douchebags.”

   
I pretend to be shocked. Then I toss her own words back at her with a smirk. “I don’t think you can say the word ‘douchebag’ in here. I’m not sure if you noticed this or not, but the waiter over there is wearing a tux.”

   
“Oh really?” She scrunches up her nose and I get the sudden, nearly irresistible urge to reach across the table and yank her onto my lap.

   
“Yes, really.” I take a deep breath and pick up the crystal water glass in front of me. “So, what the hell is a Death Eater?”

   
Aimee’s eyebrows pull inward. “A supporter of Lord Voldemort. Basically, that means someone who is intent upon purifying the wizarding world of all muggles.”

   
“What’s a mu—You know what? Never mind.” I circle the rim of my water glass with my thumb. “So far, we’ve established that you’re a fan of donuts, flowers, corndogs,
Harry Potter.
And I know that you’re into artsy—fartsy music…

   
“Hey! I listen to good music,” she defends.

    I smile so that she knows
that I’m teasing her. Even though I’ve never heard of most of the obscure indie bands that Aimee plays, I’ve reluctantly accepted that they aren’t terrible. “Okaaaay… You listen to good music and enjoy singing along in the shower.”

    Aimee frowns warily
. “How in the world do you know that I sing in the shower?”

    My chest rumbles in amusement
. “I didn’t. It was just a random guess, but thanks so much for confirming it.”

   
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush pink.

   
“What else?”

   
She thinks. “Scrabble.”

   
“You like playing Scrabble?” I mentally record the information for a later date.

   
“I do.”

   
“Okay. Scrabble, donuts, flowers, corndogs, pre-pubescent British wizards, and indie music. Am I missing anything important?”

    S
he’s still blushing and it’s like the heat in her face is trapping all the words inside of her. “What is it?” I ask, an involuntary grin tugging on my mouth. I love it when she blushes like this.

   
Aimee sighs, looks up toward the chandelier. “You, Cole. I like you.”

   
Shit. Shit. Shit. I think my mouth actually drops open.

   
I’m fucking sunk.

Aimee

Cole’s gaze is locked onto mine and his jaw is hanging loose. I think what he’s doing is commonly called
gaping.

   
It’s obvious that he can’t believe my bluntness. Well, I guess he can join the club because I can’t believe it either.             

   
“I’m sorry. That was insanely cheesy,” I say, trying to cover my red face with my hands.

   
Right now would be the perfect time to slink out of my seat to the floor so that I can hide my embarrassment under the corners of the stiff white tablecloth. Saliva builds on the roof of my mouth and I swallow it down. God. Cole’s eyes are so raw with emotion that I’m starting to feel lightheaded. I trace the woven sections of my braid with two of my fingers. “So… do you want to, um, get dessert or something?” I ask haltingly.

   
Cole doesn’t answer me. With fire flashing in his green eyes, he stands up from his chair and reaches for my arm, dragging his hand along my skin from the elbow to the base of my palm. Instinctively, I grip his fingers and let him pull me past the mess of elegant tables and diners. We don’t pause at the hostess station or in the waiting area.

    A warm rush of humid air breaks over my skin as
Cole pushes through the main door of the restaurant. I follow—tripping over my feet, my out of control heart thudding loudly in my ears—as we move past a wall covered in a thick curtain of dark creeping jasmine, to a secluded nook. To one side of us, there’s a small koi pond the color of the coppery pennies that line the bottom of it. On the other, I make out a Mediterranean style archway that leads down to the boat docks. Breathing harshly through his nose, mouth set in a grim line, Cole pulls me to an abrupt stop just under the rise of the arch. He lifts his solid arms, effectively caging me between himself and the cool stucco pier at my back.

   
“What are you doing?” I ask delicately, a nervous energy swirling in the pit of my stomach.

    The trickling light catc
hes on the surface of his eyes as he leans in and brushes his lips just under my jawline. My eyelids fall involuntarily and the breath is expelled from my lungs all at once. Still gingerly exploring my throat with his mouth, Cole’s strong hands find my waist and he anchors his thumbs just below my navel, fanning his fingers out across the small of my back. I grip his forearms and push back, flattening my shoulders to the solid surface of the pier as I absorb the sensations ripping through my body. Slowly, like it hurts to push the sound off of his tongue, he whispers into the crook of my neck, “Aimee…”

   
Seconds tumble away from me. They slip from my fingers like rain on clean glass and I am falling with the drops—no definite direction. Cole squeezes my hips and crushes his body closer to mine so that I can feel the hard lines of him through the thin fabric of my dress.

   
“Cole,” I manage in between gasps. “What are we doing out here? My purse is still back at the table.”

    “Fuck!” He moans ruefully, tearing himself away and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I can’t control myself around you.”

    Not knowing how to respond, I drop my eyes to my silver sandals and spread my palms on the wall for balance.

   
“We’ll go back inside for your purse and we can get dessert or we can leave if you want to, but first I needed to get you out of there because…” his voice is gruff. “I couldn’t stand to not touch you. Please look at me, Aimee.”

   
Too overwhelmed, I shake my head and keep my eyes trained on my toes. “I can’t…”

   
“Please.” His hands return to my waist.

   
Neither one of us speaks or dares to breathe. I know without looking that beyond the archway, the moon is coming out—spilling its reflected light across the dusky sky, lingering on the silhouettes of palm trees and the outline of the single-story buildings across the street. I know that Cole is watching me, waiting with heady intensity for me to do something, anything. The wind changes direction, brushing the tiny hairs on my arms, fluttering the hem of my blue cotton dress around my legs.

   
I swallow and set my jaw. I think that I’m shaking a little. As soon as my eyes flick up to meet his, a current of energy buzzes from my breasts down to my thighs. Cole’s fingers knot together, digging into my back as he bends his head to kiss me. It’s a kiss so deep and hungry that it drenches me—soaking every pore of my body, weighing me down, making me go soft in the knees.

    He
doesn’t stop there. He separates my lips and traces the roof of my mouth with his warm, slick tongue and glides the tip across the back of my teeth. He tastes me like this—greedily sliding into me and drawing my body nearer—until my legs are tucked between his hips and I can’t tell which one of us is holding the other up.

   
I slip my hands inside the lapel of his jacket and run my fingers up over the taut muscles of his chest, feeling for his heartbeat through his shirt. When I find it, I flatten my palm over the spot as if I can hold the beats inside of him with just my hand. For a few tangled moments, I am nothing but heat and taste and smell and touch. 

   
“I know,” he murmurs into my mouth like he’s responding to something I’ve said. Then he dips his lips to my bare arm and I have to squeeze my eyes shut and arc my back to keep myself from letting go of an embarrassing moan. Secluded or not, this is not the place to come apart.

    Seeming to understand
, Cole wrenches his mouth away from me. He cups my face between his firm fingers and finds my eyes with his. “I need to be honest about something,” he tells me, maintaining eye contact as he rests his forehead against mine and sweetly kisses the end of my nose. The pads of his thumbs stroke my cheek. “I like you too.”

   
I’m not sure if I feel like laughing or crying or what, but I’ll admit that it’s nice to just be…
feeling
. I smooth my hands over his hips and lay my cheek on the scratchy fabric of his jacket. One of the discoveries of this night is that Cole Everly can seriously rock a suit and tie.

   
We stay like this for a long time—me two steps off the stone walkway with my back pressed up against stucco and Cole pressed up against me. No one is around. We might be the only two people left of the planet.

   
Finally, my thumping heart settles and my legs steady beneath me. I manage a shaky smile. “They do say that honesty is the best policy.”

    He touches his lips to
my temple and muses: “They do say that, don’t they?”

Cole

“I have an idea.” I reluctantly peel my body from hers. Damn, she feels nice.

   
Aimee’s cheeks are flushed pink, her mouth is pursed in an oval. “What is it?”

   
“An idea,” I say elusively as I trail my knuckles down her biceps and watch in fascination as the tiny hairs on her arm spring up in the wake of my touch. “I’m going to pay our bill so they don’t call the cops on us. And you should go inside to get your purse and meet me back here in a few minutes.”

   
She narrows her eyes and makes a sharp clucking sound from the back of her throat. “We’re going to leave the restaurant in the middle of dinner?” I nod once. “Where are we going?”

   
“Not far.” I chuckle, enjoying her confusion. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. Remember when I told you that a million things could happen?”

  
The crooked valley on her forehead deepens so I explain myself. “That first day when you tripped over me, I said that if you told me your name a million things could happen…”

    Her eyes crinkle at the
memory. “Uh-huh. I’m following.”

  
“Well, Aimee Spencer, this is one of those things.” I kiss her nose and pinch her butt playfully. “Now go get your purse or we’re going to miss it.”

   
“Miss it?”

   
I make a shooing motion toward the front door of the restaurant. “Go!”

   
“Okay, okay…” She laughs and skips up the stone walkway toward the door.

   
I glance over to the moored boat that caught my eye a few minutes ago. People are milling about the upper deck. I can hear the faint tinkle of music and voices.

   
I inhale and adjust my tie so that it falls straight. I have about two minutes to make this happen. It’s a good thing that I’m fast.

Aimee

I lean my chest into the cool metal railing and tip my chin up so that I can see his face. “I can’t believe that you expect me to lie. I’m a terrible liar.”

   
Cole’s right arm is wrapped around my waist and his left hand is resting on my shoulder. He bends his mouth close to my ear. “I don’t expect you to
lie.
I just want you to act happy for…” he surreptitiously checks the enlarged photograph hanging above the appetizer table. Two names are emblazoned in a silvery metallic font across the bottom. “Eric and Bailey. And, honestly, who wouldn’t be happy for them? They’re damn adorable.”

   
I can’t help it. Cole’s dimpled grin is contagious. Ten minutes ago he grabbed my hand and tugged me down to the docks and we boarded the
Island Lady,
a chartered dinner yacht complete with a small band and twinkling white lights affixed overhead. At first, I was all coiled nerves and pinched breathing, but so far no one has questioned our presence and I have to admit that it is a beautiful night for a cruise.

   
“The hostess at the restaurant told me that this is an engagement party,” Cole continues, his hot breath lingering in my hair. “And the beauty of crashing a wedding or an engagement party—especially when you happen to be dressed for it—is that everyone on Eric’s side thinks that we’re with Bailey’s side and everyone on Bailey’s side—”