BEAUTIFUL BROKEN MESS (Broken, Series #2)(7)

“This is fantastic!” I think I’m a little too excited over a drink, so I try to tone down the enthusiasm. “Great choice,” I say and smile up at him.

He watches me intently again. “Must be a chick thing. My mom always gets me to pick that up for her when I’m down here. I’m sure she’ll be proud to know it helped me pick up a girl.”

“Oh, is that what this is… a pick-up?” I ask, while trying to tamper down my obnoxious smile.

“Damn straight.” He leans down so our faces are only inches apart, and I can feel his breath lightly teasing my lips. In a low but firm whisper, he says, “I like you, Audrey. I plan to take you out and kiss you goodnight over and over until you agree to let me do it all again the next night.”

Floor. Puddle. Me. Holy hell.

I stay there, not daring to move an inch, in hopes that he’ll lean in and put me out of my misery, because his lips are entirely too tempting to be that close. I silently implore him to show me just one of those kisses he’s talking about. As if on cue, a loud buzzing begins to vibrate between us and I jump back, startled.

“Easy, gorgeous…” he says, his voice sounding a bit breathless. Maybe I’m not the only one affected here. “It’s just my phone.” He pulls it out and I watch as his fingers slide and tap continuously on the screen. “My brother put your groceries in the truck. He had to go into the bookstore.”

“I should really get going anyway. My parents are expecting me, and I don’t want the milk to get warm…” I trail off because I can feel the start of my nervous rambling, and let’s be honest, my parents are never expecting me.



JACE -

I nod my head and stand. Will I ever see her again? Does she want to see me again? Hell, I already sound like a whimpering, lovesick puppy. You would wreck this girl, Jace. She just seems so fragile, yet deep in her eyes I can see fierceness, and damn if I don’t want to unleash that.

When I grab her hand and lace my fingers through hers, she stands without hesitation and allows me to lead the way. I can’t even remember the last time I held hands with a girl. She seems to like when I take control though. I walk her back out to my truck, quicker than I mean to. I need to drag out this time I have with her.

“Do you need a ride home?” Please say ‘yes.’ I click the key fob and open the back passenger door, and then she reaches in to grab her paper sack. I want to ask her so many questions, like why paper? Is she an environmentalist? Does she not want to clog our landfills with more plastic? Because she seemed so adamant about it, almost as if she was frightened, and that’s the only conclusion I can come to right now.

“No, I’m just around the corner.”

I have to keep touching her, and I am not a touchy-feely guy. Who the hell is this girl? She has to be a witch. That has to be it. She must have cast a spell on me, because it’s the only way I can vouch for my actions around her. Christ, stop touching the poor girl! I can’t help myself, so I place my hands on her shoulders to keep her from leaving just yet. Shoulders are a safe-zone, right? I’m pretty sure I can still touch her here and it isn’t inappropriate.

“Can I have your number?” I ask, trying to recall the last time I actually had to ask a girl. Probably never, and even if I did, I sure as hell never called them. But she’s leaving and I’m panicking.

“No, but can I have yours?” she counters and smiles confidently up at me. Fuck, I’ll bet that smile gets her anything she wants.

I’m puzzled as to why she won’t give up her number, but I realize I have to go slow with this one. ‘Approach with Caution’ should be taped across her chest. Wait… screw that. Nobody better be touching that chest, except for me.