“Take all the time in the world. Seriously, until tomorrow or forever is fine with me.”
He places his hand on his chest over his heart. “Crushed,” he mouths.
I can’t help but smirk.
Watching him approach this woman, who so kindly bought his drink, causes me to become annoyed. They exchange words and as they do, her hand comes to rest on his arm. He doesn’t pull it away, and this makes me mad. Why?
Marcus’s hand curls around the side of her neck, and he must whisper something into her ear. It’s only a couple of minutes before he’s heading back in my direction. What did he say?
His swagger towards me mixed with his devilish look causes me to pant. He’s so frickin’ hot. “Now, where were we?” His words are delivered as smooth as butter.
“I was just leaving, and you were … doing whatever it is you do.”
“Have one drink with me?” His expression is impassive.
Denied. I shake my head.
Marcus walks away and then disappears.
Why did he just leave? No witty humour to encourage me to stay? Standing, I leave his drink on the table where he left it and sling my bag over my shoulder before heading towards the exit. I’m halted by Marcus, just inside of the doors, holding a Mudslide out like a prize.
“You can’t leave this cocktail I bought you. Abi. You need to enjoy her first.”
He talks about the drink like it’s a person, and I realise, for the first time today, he has called me Abi.
“I’m sure you can handle her.”
“I’m not so sure. I’d much prefer to watch you enjoy.” His eyes are wild with want.
My breath hitches in my throat, and I cave. “I’ll stay.”
“Is it hot in here, Miss McMillian?”
I’m betrayed by my body once more.
“Very,” I reply.
“Well, I think we should sit back outside. After you.” He ushers me to the front, claims his drink from the table where he left it, and then we make our way onto the deck, towards a table closest to the beach. “Such a magnificent view, don’t you think?”
“It is. I’ve never been here before. It’s very lovely.”
“I wasn’t talking about the beach, Abigail. I was talking about your arse.”
My heart flutters. How does he do that? “Is that your favourite pick-up line?”
“No, I just enjoy a fine behind, and an eye roll from you.”
Sitting, I shake my head. He grins in response. This guy is cocky, and as much as I’d like to say I despise this quality, I find it humorous.
“Who were you waiting for?” he asks before taking a mouthful of beer.
“Asher.”
“Well, is she coming?”
“No, her brother had a car accident. She says he’s okay, but they had to go to the hospital.”
His body tenses. “I’ll make sure everything is okay in the morning. Her brother, Brad, is a good kid. Reckless at times, but nevertheless, a bright man with a good head on his shoulders.”
“Oh, you know him?”
“Yes, the whole family for that matter. Good people.” He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and glances at the screen before resting it on the table.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“No. I was actually going to head home until I spotted you.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’re not. It’s me keeping you.” His gaze again fills with that look of want, or is it need? Contact is broken when he reaches into his jean pocket for a second time and removes what appears on sight to be grass, but by the smell, is mint. He slips it between his lips and starts chewing.
“You’re weird.”
His mouth is very … distracting, even more so when the corners curl upwards.
“Well?” I say.
“What?”
“What’s with the mint? Why do you eat it?”
He shrugs. “It’s something I started to quit smoking, and I’ve done it ever since.”
“So that’s why you smell like freshly picked mint.”
“I do?”
“Yep.”
He drifts off in his own thoughts. I awkwardly look around due to an overwhelming feeling of unease. Crystal glasses hanging from around the circular set-up of the bar catch my gaze when light flickers from their polished surfaces. The green, aqua and blue of the décor is reflected by the lights, making patterns on the table. There are many people here tonight, yet I feel isolated, as if it’s just the two of us.
“So how was your first day?” he says out of nowhere.
“So, so.”
“Just so, so?”
“Yep.”
“But I heard, amongst the office gossip, you met a striking young man whom you made your bitch.”
I almost choke to death on the Mudslide when I take a sip, inhaling my drink in laughter.
“Now, now, don’t you know how to drink liquids?” His hand gently pats my back as I hack a lung up to clear my airway.
“Wow,” I splutter with a strained voice and my eyes watering uncontrollably. “You definitely pick good moments to make girls laugh, don’t you?”
He half-laughs, slipping his fingers into the base of my hair. The shivers that shoot down my spine cause my toes to curl. “Sorry,” he says, simply, before he sits.
No words are spoken for a while. He drifts off again. His head tilts a little to his left. His eyes, however, look up and out to his right towards the night sky. Every now and then, the breeze blows through his dark hair. It messes it each time, which makes him even more alluring. It’s then I notice the stubble from this morning is no more, and smooth, silky skin has taken its place. I want nothing more than to run my fingers over his face.
“So you were visiting your dad, you said?” he asks out of nowhere, again.
Has he been thinking of things he wants to ask me? “Yeah. I was. I don’t go often enough. Life gets in the way.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Were you visiting someone special?”
“I was.”
I don’t ask, but his eyes soften, his lips relax—he seems sad.
“My sister.” His voice croaks on his words.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He sighs. “You said your dog died?”
“Yes, she died about six months ago. Her name was Bella. She was a Pug. Cutest little thing.”
His hand rubs the back of mine; my hand tingles in response.
“Shit happens.” I try desperately to control my reaction to his touch.
“It sure does.”
“To me it happens a lot.”
“What does?” He gives me a puzzled look.
“Bad things. I’m hexed, you know, so that’s probably why.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re hexed?” He smiles, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing.”
I scoff overdramatically. “There most certainly is. I’m one of the unlucky ones.”
“Okay, Miss McMillian, explain how this works.”
Starting at the beginning, I fill him in on each disaster that has plagued my existence, from the primary school hair-cutting incident, ending at my forced leave. I don’t tell him how my dad actually died, mainly because it still hits a raw nerve. I also don’t remind him I was engaged. Any information about Mike is off limits. But, apart from that, there’s no stone left unturned.