“I stopped by a field on the way into town and picked them myself, so you can’t accuse me of any kind of charity,” I inform him sternly, fighting a grin as his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.” He strokes a finger carefully over the blue petal of one of the wildflowers and then grabs an empty glass, setting it on the bar and filling it with water for the flowers.
“You’re welcome.” I take a seat and ask for a soda this time. There are only two other people in the bar at the moment, seated at the far end, deep in their own conversation, so once Sterling brings me my drink, I don’t feel too guilty monopolizing his time.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” I ask, and a dreamy look comes over his face, momentarily washing away the weary one that was there when I walked in.
“Oh gosh, anywhere,” he answers, leaning on the bar, bringing himself closer to me seemingly unconsciously. “I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. But, heck, I’d be just as glad to see snow, or to dip my feet in the Atlantic Ocean.” I make a mental note to make every single one of those things happen for him and then some. “What about you?”
“I’ve been most everywhere,” I admit. “So, I’m more worried these days about who I’m with rather than where I am.” His eyes flicker to mine, unconcealed hope shining in them. I want to lean over and press a kiss against his lips. It’s too tempting to imagine his eyes going wide with surprise before sinking into the kiss, parting his lips to let me in, softening under my commanding touch.
“Do you…” he pauses, wetting his lips and dropping his eyes to the floor. “Um…if you still wanted to take me to dinner, I don’t work tomorrow night.”
A jolt of excitement rushes through me. “It’s a date.”
His smile widens and he looks up again. “Okay.”
We stare at each other for a few weighted, charged seconds before he asks what my favorite movie is, and we fall into another evening of conversation. Customers come and go, and I notice most of them hardly look at Sterling, let alone talk to him, outside of barking their order. Each time he goes to help someone new, I catch the same rounding of his shoulders and angling of his body that he did when I first walked in here the other day. It seems like he does it without thinking, trying to somehow shield people from having to see his face, as if it’s somehow offensive rather than uniquely him and utterly captivating.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from my sister.
Lorna: What’s this I hear about a new boyfriend?
I roll my eyes. Kiernan is a great friend, but the man can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.
Barrett: Not exactly a boyfriend, but I did score a date.
I look up at Sterling, pouring a drink. He glances in my direction at the same time like he can feel my eyes on him. My heart surges, and the giddy feeling returns to the pit of my stomach.
Lorna: Of course, you did, you’re a Russell. Russells always get what they want ;)
That we do. If for no other reason than that we stubbornly refuse to have it any other way.
Lorna: Is he into all that kinky shit you love so much?
Barrett: Christ, I need to get a muzzle for Kiernan.
Lorna: Sounds hot.
I snort and shake my head.
“What’s so funny?” Sterling asks.
“My sister.” I slip my phone back into my pocket so I can give him my full attention again.
As for whether he’s into all that kinky shit, I suppose time will tell.
Chapter 5
Sterling
I stare helplessly at the meager pile of painfully plain clothes. I never thought there was anything wrong with my worn-out jeans and dingy white t-shirts before, but I’ve also never been on a date before, so there’s that. Barrett didn’t say where he was taking me, but I’m betting it ain’t Ruthie’s place at the edge of town.
There’s a knock at the door, and I have the brief notion of crawling under my covers and hiding out until he goes away and takes all these silly butterflies and wild fantasies with him. I’m a simple man with a simple life, and I’m not so sure it’s supposed to be any other way, no matter how much Barrett is tempting me to believe it could be.
Since new clothes aren’t about to magically appear, I pull on the nearest thing and then go to answer the front door. My heart sinks when I see what he’s wearing— a tailored navy blue suit that has to have cost a pretty penny. I glance down at my own clothes and grimace.
“I brought you something,” Barrett says, holding up a flat box. “And before you say anything, it’s not charity. It’s the kind of thing I would bring to pamper any of my dates, so please indulge me and take it without argument.”
I eye him warily, but take the box. Easing the lid off, I find a lavender dress shirt, along with a suit jacket and matching slacks inside. I run my fingers along the fabric. I’ve never felt anything so soft in my life.
“I had to guess at your size, so I hope they fit.”
“Thank you, why don’t you come in, and I’ll get changed.”
I lead Barrett into the living room, trying my hardest not to imagine what he must think of the place. He settles himself into my favorite armchair, crossing his ankle over his knee and getting comfortable. How on God’s green Earth does the man manage to even sit better than anyone else I’ve ever laid eyes on? It’s unfair is what it is.
Taking the present, I hurry back to my room and strip out of my clothes in favor of the ones he bought. If I thought they felt soft when I ran my finger along them, it’s nothing compared to how they feel all wrapped around me. Barrett must have an eye for sizes because they fit perfectly, the pants hugging the curve of my butt in a downright scandalous way and the shirt sitting comfortably, highlighting my slim frame. I smooth my hands over the them and then return to the living room to show off my gift.
He sits up straighter in the chair when he sees me, making an appreciative sound in his throat. “You look absolutely stunning.”
I dip my head, my cheeks heating at the compliment. “The clothes look great,” I agree. “Thank you for them.”
Barrett plants his feet on the floor and stands up, stepping in front of me and putting his hand under my chin to tilt my face up to meet his gaze. “You look stunning,” he repeats, and my heart aches, unsure of how to take such a statement.
“Thank you,” I manage to rasp, even though more denials force their way to my lips. He rewards me with a smile, and I swear my whole body feels like it could melt into a puddle right at his feet.
His eyes drop to my lips, and I quiver under his attention, darting my tongue out to wet my lips. Is he going to kiss me? Will I be any good at it if he does? Needless to say, nobody’s ever kissed me before, but I would sell every one of my meager possessions in exchange for a kiss from him. Just one and I could die a happy man.
He doesn’t kiss me, but he does drag his thumb along my bottom lip, making me gasp at the shockingly sensual feel of it. I lean in closer, my eyelids drooping and my groin tightening as I flick my tongue against the pad of his thumb.