“Blow on me.”
Oh, wow. I know he wants to smell my breath, but if you remove one of those words, the middle one, well, that’s funny. I snicker. I can’t help it. It’s what I do.
“Becklyn Marie…”
I stop laughing. The laughter is replaced with a scowl, because I’m instantly angry. “Donotuse my middle name like you’re my father.” He’s not my father. He’s the man I’m going to marry, and if I’m going to accomplish that feat, he’s going to have to stop thinking of me as some little kid.
I’m not a kid.
I’m awoman. With boobs now, and everything.
Sure, it took a while, but they’re there, and I’m not going to lie, they’re impressive. I prove it by pushing my chest out just enough to bump into the arms he’s still got crossed over his chest like he’s about to ground me or something.
He must notice, because he immediately pushes himself up to his full height, looks down at my chest, and steps back. “You…” He glances around the room as a blush hits his high cheekbones. “You just need to go.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m here for the ‘famous’”—I use air quotes—“St. Patrick’s Day party.” I hold up my glass. “And I’m having some green beer.” I glare at him. “Deal with it.”
Taking a step to my right, his left, I’m about to make my escape when I feel his hand on my upper arm. Then, his breath is on my cheek. “I’m watching you.”
I’m suddenly breathless. In a good way. I find bravery—from where, I’m not sure. Turning my head until we’re looking eye to eye, I do something I’m going to tell my grandchildren someday. The grandchildren I’m going to have thanks to the children I’m going to have with Lucky Ganetti. I lean in slowly. You know, to give him time to process. When he doesn’t move, I press my lips to his for just a second. Long enough for two things to happen. One, to make my point, and two, so I get a chance to feel just how soft his lips really are.
They’re soft.
Very soft.
I say, “You do what you need to do, Lucky. Go ahead and watch me have some fun.” I pull away from him, and his hand slips from my arm. With my back to him, I smile, because at that moment, I feel pretty dang kick-ass.
2
Becklyn
“Did you just kiss that guy?”My roommate, Deena, asks. There’s pride in her voice. Something I haven’t heard from her—at least as it relates to me.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Did you see him? Why wouldn’t I kiss him?” Okay, that’s false bravado. I quickly tell her the story. “I know him. He grew up down the street, and he’s my brother’s best friend.”
“Are you two a thing?” She looks shocked. I suppose I don’t blame her. If I saw someone like me kissing someone like him, I’d have questions. “Because, if so, you’ve been holding back on me. Are you two hooking up after?” She reaches up with both hands and starts to play with her long, pretty blonde curls. She does that when she’s thinking. “I get it. That’s why you insisted on coming to this party.”
“I told you. This party islegendary.”
She looks around the place, shrugs, and says, “I’ve been to better.” Still twirling her hair around her fingers, she starts tapping her foot.
Foot tapping. That’s a sign she has an idea.
“You should totally go for that guy. He hasn’t stopped looking over here since you kissed him.”
I’m so tempted to look back over my shoulder, but I resist. “Nah.” I shake my head. “He’s only doing that to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”
“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head. “Iknow guys…”
She does. Lots and lots of guys.
“And that one”—she nods in his direction which freaks me out a bit because he’ll know we’re talking about him—“is into you.”
I scoff. “No.”I wish.
