Tempt Our Fate (Sutten Mountain, #2)(77)
“I’m taking you for a redo,” she states matter-of-factly.
My head cocks to the side. “A redo?”
I should be scared of the mischievous gleam in her eye. It can’t be good for me. She stuffs her hands in the pocket of my jacket, pulling me by the fabric to her. “Yeah, a redo. At Slopes. You’re going to make a better first impression on me.”
“I think first impressions are long gone. I’ve felt you come against my tongue.”
Her eyes bulge, her hand coming up and slapping against my mouth as she looks around us. There isn’t anyone within earshot, but she checks just in case. I smirk underneath her touch. God, it’s so fun ruffling her feathers and making her blush.
“Do it for me,” she pleads, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. I think I’d give her anything she wanted if she kept looking at me with those wide, adorable eyes. “I want to go up to the bar alone and have you slip behind me minutes later. I want you to buy me a beer—one that doesn’t get spilled. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll say yes to a dance with you.”
“What if I don’t dance?”
“You will for me.”
“You aren’t wrong.”
She beams at me, breathing life into my chest. I used to think it was cold, dark, and empty where my heart should be. The only person I ever really truly loved is Gran—and maybe Beck. But I thought it’d forever be desolate for a woman. It turns out I think it was just waiting for Pippa.
Before anything else is said, she loops her fingers through mine and pulls me toward the last place I want to be. I tried getting out of coming here the first time for hours. Beck wouldn’t hear any of it—more like Margo wouldn’t. It was their joint bachelor and bachelorette party, and Margo was determined to come to the country tourist bar. If anyone ever wanted to interrogate me, they could probably lock me in the bar for days, and I’d lose my mind. I don’t do country music, and I don’t do people in cheesy cowboy hats. Yet here I am, letting Pippa pull me toward the bar without any complaints.
If she wants a redo, I’ll give her one. It’d be good for us. I wish all the time I could take back the things I said to her in annoyance the first time we met. I was being an ass because I didn’t want to be there, and I took it out on her. This time, I’ll do better. I’ll buy her the cheap, nasty beer because she wants me to. I’ll pull her onto the dance floor, even though the classical technique I was taught as a child isn’t anything like the goofy line dancing that was happening last time we were here. I’ll let her teach me how to do the dances with all the cowboy wannabes. Then I’ll pull her off the dance floor and back her into a dark corner and show her how our first meeting should’ve gone.
Pippa eagerly jumps up and down as we wait in a small line to get in. “We need to get you a cowboy hat!” she declares.
I groan, shaking my head violently. “I draw the line at a cowboy hat.”
She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “You can’t go to Slopes without a cowboy hat.”
“Sure you can. I’ve done it before. Plus, I don’t see you wearing one.”
She rolls her eyes, smiling at someone in front of us who says her name.
The cowboy hat argument is dropped for a moment as we’re let inside. It’s busy, but not as busy as it was when I came for Beck’s bachelor party.
Beck can never find out I came back. He’d never let me hear the end of it. This will be a secret I take to my grave.
The smile on Pippa’s face as she leads me deeper into the bustle of the night makes me forget how much I hate this place. If she’s happy, then I’m happy. Even if it smells way too much like BO and cheap beer. I’d much rather be back at one of our houses with my face buried between her thighs.
She spins to look at me, eagerness on her face. “Okay, I’m going to go to the bar. In five minutes, you’re going to pretend we’re strangers and ask to get me a drink.”
“If another man tries to talk to you in that time frame, I’ll kill them.”
She pushes against my chest, rolling her eyes dramatically. “No one’s going to come up to me, Camden. Just you.”
I let out a low growl, but I don’t know if she hears it. I don’t think she realizes how stunning she is. Of course a man is going to try and speak to her. Just look at her.
She leaves me standing there alone, watching her shimmy her way to the bar. I stand against the wall, not taking my eyes off her. She’s too sexy for her own good. She’s far too dressed up for the bar tonight—we both are—which brings even more attention to her. I eye everyone around, and my fist clenches at my side when I notice a man staring her down from across the bar. He’s paying far too much attention to my girl for my liking. I try to ignore it because when I look back at her, she hasn’t noticed him. She’s lost in her own world, chatting with the bartender. They look friendly, but the man behind the bar she speaks to looks safe. He looks at her with fondness, not attraction.
I peek at my watch, finding it’s only been one minute since she went to the bar. How the hell am I supposed to stand here for four more minutes? Maybe I can go there now. Surely she doesn’t know the exact time I’m supposed to meet her at the bar.
I’m telling myself I’ll give it two more minutes when a man slides in next to her.