Colorful, p.5
Colorful, page 5
“Who are they?” Connor asked.
I jumped and spun back to face the front, clearing my throat. “No one.”
“I’m not even going to pretend that was a lie. That was just a sad excuse to avoid the conversation,” Connor pointed out.
“Then let’s avoid it. Obviously, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ex-boyfriend?” he guessed.
“Oh, bravo Sherlock,” I muttered under my breath as I pretended to peruse the menu. Connor chuckled low and I could see him studying the couple for a moment.
“Let me guess, he cheated on you with her? Or left you for her?”
“Connor, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on, I’m curious,” he pleaded.
“And I said no.”
“But—”
“Why do you want to know?” I snapped, turning to face him. Connor’s face slowly lost its humor, and he shook his head.
“I guess… you’re getting to know me and my family. I wanted to know more about you,” he answered softly, those damned eyes searching my face as if all the answers he needed were right there. I shook my head and glanced at the couple again over his shoulder, my stomach sinking as I watched Harry lean forward with a smile to kiss Cathy soundly.
“He hurt you,” Connor noted softly.
“We dated for a year. We were talking about moving in together,” I whispered, my gaze glued to my ex.
“And then?” Connor prompted softly when I fell silent.
“Do you see the way he’s looking at her? At the way he kisses her, touches her, as if she’s this masterpiece he is in awe of?”
Connor didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious how much Harry loved Cathy, anyone could see it. “He never once looked at me like that… not even close.”
It had been over a year since we’d split up. I was all healed and whole again, but it still put a dent in my armor to know I had been the placeholder for her, one of the ones along the road it took for him to finally get the woman he truly wanted. Annoyance at myself was also volatile. I had seen their connection, their chemistry, but Harry had been so sincere when he said there was nothing and had never been anything romantic between them, that I’d ignored my instincts and stayed. He’d been telling the truth at the time, I still believed that, but obviously things had changed.
“Hey,” Connor whispered softly, taking my hand in his and shuffling closer to me so that one of his knees slid between mine. I turned to look at him to find him close and sucked in a sharp breath. Whoever thought brown eyes were dull and boring had never stared into Connor’s eyes, not with his such a dark chocolate with little gold flecks in them. They were alluring, tempting, they could make me forget everyone around me… including my ex.
“You are so much more than her, and he was never worthy of you,” he whispered.
A small smile tugged at my lips, and I gently shook my head. “You don’t know him. He’s a good guy—and you don’t know her or what she’s like, so you can hardly say that with any kind of confidence in your assessment.”
He shrugged and reached out to hold my chin between his fingers when I made to turn away. My gaze was drawn back to his dark eyes as he leaned in closer, my gaze locked with his, unable to move away.
“I don’t need to know them. Even if he is a good guy, he let you go, which makes him stupid and ungrateful. And her? I might not know her, but I know all I need to about her; she’s not you,” Connor answered.
“You barely know me,” I whispered on a breath, desperately trying to remember we were fake.
Connor shrugged. “I know enough. You’re kind and soft. You’re thoughtful and intelligent and funny. To top it off, you’re fucking gorgeous and are independent enough to stand on your own. You have aspirations and dreams that you’re working towards, and that sort of perseverance takes courage… something I obviously lack.”
I wanted to argue with him, tell him I was a coward because if I weren’t I would have admitted to myself sooner that Harry wasn’t in love with me, and I wouldn’t be holding back now from closing the gap between Connor and myself to kiss him. Yep. I was letting myself get swept away in the Connor Arthur charm, but I felt helpless to resist those eyes and that voice.
If I were a cartoon, little hearts would have started floating around my head, and my eyes would have bugged out of my face, all heart shaped. I mentally stabbed at the floating hearts with a pin. I didn’t need a man to make me feel special, and I certainly didn’t need Connor’s approval. But damn did it feel good to hear those words.
“You don’t know me,” I repeated lightly, needing to insert a little humor into the situation.
He shrugged. “I think I know you better than you’d like.”
“Connor.” His name was a bare whisper of sound, and I was distracted by the way he seemed to be leaning closer.
“You are an incredible woman, Amara Pearson, and he was stupid to let you go.”
My heart slammed hard in my ribcage, and butterflies let loose in my stomach as electricity arched and zapped between us. I wasn’t imagining that, was I? We had chemistry, we had something powerful between us, right?
“What are… what are you…” I trailed off when he gently stroked my cheek with his thumb, edging ever closer. I felt myself leaning towards him, drawn closer, unable to resist whatever was happening. Heart pounding, breath hitching, my eyelids fluttered closed as Connor gently pressed his lips to mine. It was soft, featherlight, barely there, but it ignited something within me, something powerful and electrifying. Connor was just sliding his hand into my hair, and I was just bringing my hand up to his face to bring him closer when there was a blinding flash of light.
“Connor Arthur, are you getting married? Is this your fiancé? Ma’am, what’s your name?” a man demanded. I pulled away with a startled gasp and Connor leapt from the stool to stand protectively in front of me. I blinked in surprise as the camera flashed again and Connor demanded the man leave.
“Is this your fiancé, Connor? When did you get engaged? Who is she?” the man asked again. Two men from the kitchen came out and helped to escort the reporter out of the diner, telling him to leave their customers alone.
“Are you okay?” Connor asked, turning back to look at me. I swallowed hard and looked around the diner at all the people who were now staring at us… including Harry and Cathy. Their expressions reflected shock at seeing me and I was suddenly frozen.
“Amara,” Connor called, gently taking my hand in his. I snapped my gaze back to him and he looked around, noticing all the eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said and tossed some money onto the bench. I nodded and he laced his fingers with mine, tugging me off the chair. With a call of thanks to the men who’d helped him push out the reporter, Connor led us out of the diner and to the van.
Once we were buckled in, Connor put my new address into his GPS and started driving us in that direction. My mind replayed the last few minutes on a loop. Seeing Cathy and Harry; feeling that pain all over again. Then Connor with his sweet words and that kiss… if you could even call it that. It had been just a brush of lips, barely more than two seconds before we’d been interrupted. But it had been… well… I didn’t have chemistry like that with people.
I twisted my fingers together as we drove in silence, and I wondered if he was as confused by our kiss as I was, or if this was just another day in the life of Connor Arthur.
~
CONNOR
I’d just kissed Amara.
I swallowed hard and ran a hand over the scruff on my jaw and continued to focus on the road ahead as the feel of her lips still tingled on mine. I hadn’t meant to; it was not in the plan. Amara had laid out her boundaries and rules very clearly, and I’d had every intention of sticking to them, but seeing that look on her face when she looked at her ex, I hadn’t been capable of letting this incredible woman sit there and think she was less than any other woman. Because she wasn’t. I mean, I hadn’t known her all that long, but I felt like I knew who she was very well. Growing up with money, you learned to read people quickly so you could distinguish real friends from those who wanted to use you for your money. I got a read on Amara when I first met her before I’d introduced her to my mother. I knew she wasn’t the type to use someone. It helped that she didn’t recognize me, but when she did find out, she hadn’t gone all shy, flirtatious, or manipulative. No, she’d shoved me out of the booth and damn near cursed me out for lying to my family.
Amara Pearson was a good person. She hid behind her glasses and baggy hoodies, her books and her intellect, but she was more than just intelligent. She was beautiful, courageous, and kind. I hoped that after all this was over, she’d want to remain my friend. Finding people I could truly trust in my world was a rarity, and when I found them, I wanted to hold onto them for good. Amara could be such a person… if I didn’t have a mad desire to kiss her senseless and explore every inch of her, that is.
I’d felt our chemistry from that first day, but earlier in her apartment was the first time I’d truly seen her reciprocate it. She’d wanted me, she’d been eyeing me like I was a piece of meat. I was used to that look from women, but coming from Amara, it had been welcome and exciting.
I hadn’t meant to kiss her at lunch. I just hadn’t been able to stand that look on her face when she’d seen her dipshit ex. No, I didn’t know their story, but I stood by what I’d said. He was a moron for letting her go, and that was all I needed to know about him. Amara hadn’t meant to kiss me either, I knew she hadn’t. But I had been powerless to stop that kiss, even had I wanted to. And I didn’t. I hadn’t felt chemistry like that with anyone before, and I would have been crazy to let a chance slip by. Now, I was torn between annoyance at letting it happen at all and for not kissing her properly. We’d been heading in that direction; she’d been leaning into me, her hand on my face, her lips parting just as the reporter took his photo.
Stupid fucking press.
But now Amara wasn’t speaking. She’d been silent this entire trip and I wondered if I’d screwed up.
Before the kiss, lunch with Amara had been pleasant, even fun. She may look like a quiet bookworm with a disarming set of dimples and deep violet eyes that made me think of steamy nights with her, but she was sass and fire when she wanted to be. I was finding it fun to get her riled up and to listen to her mini lectures on social conformity, propriety, and the psychology behind it all. Her mind worked a million miles an hour, and it was no wonder she finished school early and already had so many certificates, degrees, and a freaking doctorate under her belt at twenty-four. Knowing that she’d been alone since her mother passed away only made her all the more admirable.
What I loved most, and it was an odd thing for me to like, was that she didn’t fall over herself to please me. When she opened the door earlier today at her place dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, I just about swallowed my tongue. She was only four years younger than me, but something about her made her appear so innocent. Her face was free of makeup, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Then at her apartment, watching her purse her lips in dissatisfaction and plant her hands on her hips as she told me off for not being at her place earlier was cute.
We had an hour to unload all her things from her truck so that she had enough time to get ready for my parents’ anniversary dinner tonight. I’d already told her what it was going to be like, and she swore to me she had a dress and shoes that were appropriate for such an event. I mean, I couldn’t care less if she showed up in what she was wearing now, but I knew other people could be harsh and judgmental, and I didn’t want Amara feeling singled out or upset because other people were rude.
During lunch, I’d asked her about her parents, schooling, and hobbies. I needed to know these things if we were going to pass as a couple tonight, but it was just one more night, so we didn’t need to go too in depth.
My gaze lingered on her for a moment as I drove the truck towards her new place, and I frowned.
I was the one who had talked her into pretending to be my fiancé. I was the one who got us into this mess, and I was the one who would come up with a plausible story as to why it all ended. But the idea of saying goodbye tonight and letting her walk out of my life wasn’t one I was happy about. Okay, no, we weren’t in love, we weren’t even balancing on the line of relationship material, but she was funny, she tested me, and it helped that I found her particular brand of sexy-nerdiness attractive as all fuck.
Amara had just about bit my head off when I’d tried to buy her into playing out my story, and she’d had similar reactions any other time I mentioned money to her. So, I got the point; she wasn’t motivated by the almighty dollar. From what little I knew of her and from what I’d gleaned of her home, she was a loner. She didn’t have friends who would help her move, so that told me she had no one close to her, and she’d already said she had no family left. I wondered if she’d be open to continuing a friendship? She wouldn’t use me, but friends helped each other, and I knew I could get her that meeting with Oliver Stone if I tried. I could introduce her to all sorts of people who could help her with her dreams and her learning, and the only thing I wanted in return was her loyalty and to be someone I could talk to. She didn’t find it necessary to kiss my ass or flatter me or dress up to keep my attention; she wasn’t shy about biting my head off when she saw me doing something stupid, like lying to my family.
Smiling to myself, I silently decided I’d ask her to stay in my life. Hell, I could tell my parents that I was the one who couldn’t commit, and that we had decided to stay friends. That way I wouldn’t have to keep her a secret, and my family wouldn’t blame her.
“Just here on the right,” Amara pointed out. I slowed the van and brought it to a complete stop in front of her new place. It was cute, if not a little shabby. It was in need of some TLC, but I saw its potential.
“Where is the landlord? He was supposed to meet me here,” she mumbled as she pulled out her phone.
Oh no. I hadn’t known her long, but I could see that little crease in her forehead and pout to her lips when it became obvious the landlord wasn’t here. If there was one thing I’d learned about Amara, it was that she liked schedules and punctuality.
She tried ringing, but the landlord didn’t answer, so she left a voice message.
“Want to see if there’s anything in the mailbox? Maybe he left a note and a key?” I suggested. Her eyes lit briefly with hope, and she jumped out. I took my time climbing out of the van and stretched. When I rounded the vehicle, she was headed back to me, her shoulders slumped in defeat and expression suddenly tired.
“Nothing.”
“Try calling again,” I suggested. Amara did, and I moved to her front door, checking to see if it was unlocked or if there was a letter hidden somewhere.
“Mr. Travis?”
I turned and watched as she spoke into her phone.
“Yes, it’s Amara Pearson. I am at the house; you said you’d meet me here,” Amara continued. I watched as her shoulders dropped and she rubbed her forehead.
“No, I understand, but I’ve got my entire house packed into a van and I’m waiting outside for my key. Is there no one who could—oh. No, of course not. I’m very sorry. Yes, that will be… fine. Okay, bye.”
I watched as she sucked in a deep breath before she let it out and looked at me.
“Mr. Travis, the landlord… his daughter just went into labor. Apparently, there’s no one else who can drop my key to me right now, and he’ll get it to me first thing tomorrow,” she explained.
“What if we went to pick it up?” I suggested.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be warmly welcomed. It’s fine, I’ll just… hire the van for another day and spend the night in a hotel,” she added softly, turning to sigh up at the van.
“How about you stay at my place tonight?”
She turned to look at me, one eyebrow cocked, her violet eyes assessing. The idea of her taking up space in my house was oddly appealing. My mind flashed back to our sort-of kiss, and I wondered if another opportunity would present itself for us to explore that further. Her gaze narrowed suspiciously, and I hastily banished any lusty thoughts about her.
“I have about five empty bedrooms, all with their own adjourning bathrooms. I have to pick you up tonight and drop you off anyway, so just stay at mine and save the money you’d spend on a hotel,” I suggested.
“Umm…” She trailed off, looking unsure.
“Plus, everything you own is in that van. Wouldn’t it make you feel better if it was stored somewhere safe so that no one could steal everything you own?” I added, not liking the idea of her having to spend the night alone in a hotel. She gnawed on her lower lip as she considered my proposal.
“I definitely have my own room?” she asked.
I smiled. “Yes. And I have twelve-foot fences around my home with storage for the van and surveillance. It will be safe there,” I assured. After another minute of consideration, Amara nodded and smiled gently.
“Thank you, Connor. Let me just call the truck rental and let them know I need the truck another day.”
“Let me.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’m dragging you into my family mess?”
“How does that have anything to do with me needing the truck? Regardless of your involvement, this still would have happened,” she reminded.
“I know, but I’m feeling guilty about having you lie. Just let me pay for the extra day to rent it,” I demanded. Her lips tilted in a small smile, and she shook her head and shrugged.
“If it makes you feel better.”
“It will, thank you,” I assured and dialed the number on the side of the van. Amara waited as I paid for the entirety of the truck rental—she didn’t need to know that right now—before we climbed back in, and I turned us back towards my place.
