Chapter Five
By the time they reached the tail end of the mixology class, the group was getting a little rowdy. Libby put the food out early in the hopes that a meal break would give everyone a chance to soak up some of the alcohol before they jumped into the last activity.
Thankfully, Noah had an iron stomach and could hold his alcohol like a champ. So he kept an eye out for the employees and made sure that no one was going beyond their limits.
“Glad you could drag yourself away for the session tonight,” Paul said as they stood to the side of the room, pizza in hand. “Seems like you might have caught some of Des’s workaholic ways.”
“There should be a vaccination for that.” Noah bit down on a steaming slice. “At least my case is only temporary.”
“Not if Des has his way. And he’s going to be in for a shock when the baby comes. Can’t keep up that pace when you’re only getting a few hours of sleep each night.” Paul shook his head. “I know he wants to give you a more permanent gig looking after some of this management stuff.”
Noah tried to tell himself the promotion would be a good thing—the extra money could be used to support his sisters, especially since Megan was getting married soon. But on the other hand, his policy was always to set the bar low when it came to commitment. Hard to disappoint people when they didn’t expect too much. And he liked floating through life unburdened by expectation, to know that he only needed to worry about himself. It might sound selfish to some, but to a kid who’d been kicked out of every home he’d ever had…well, being a lone wolf meant control. Security.
“Surely that would go to you,” Noah said, keeping his tone casual. “Being his brother and all.”
“I’ve got my own business to run now with the mixology classes and helping Libby out with the vodka line. We’re doing a big social media push and it’s bloody time-consuming.” He raked a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “I’m running at full capacity.”
Noah found his eyes drifting across the room to Paige. She threw her head back and laughed at something that Libby was saying, the sound so deep and genuine he couldn’t help but smile in response. The girl didn’t seem to have a filter to her—not like some of the women he’d dated in the past who were all about the head games and dating psychology.
Fuck. That. Noise.
“So, how is it working out with the new hire? What’s her name, Paige?” Paul asked, smirking. The question was innocent enough. His friend’s facial expression, on the other hand, was anything but.
“Yeah, Paige. She’s doing well after her first week. Seems to be fitting in.” He hadn’t told Paul that her employment status was temporary on account of her not wanting to be a barista forever because she had a “real” career to chase. No sense in giving the other folks at First any reason to treat her differently than one of their own. “The customers are happy, which is the main thing.”
“No comment on the fact that you’ve been looking at her like she’s your last meal, then?”
Noah rolled his eyes. “You should go into politics. Bullshit comes so naturally to you.”
“Here, take this.” Paul handed him a wad of napkins as Libby called for the group to get back into their pairs. “In case you start drooling again.”
Paul walked away with a smug expression on his face, and Noah swore under his breath. Obviously he wasn’t being as subtle as he’d thought. Probably because he wasn’t used to hiding his attraction to another person—and he had a good track record.
It wasn’t until after the gloss had worn off that the rejections started rolling in, when the women found out that he wasn’t built for long term. That at the first sign of conflict, he’d cut and run like a bat out of hell, desperate to get his freedom back. Desperate to be the one doing the leaving rather than being left behind.
That’s why being a player was easy—hard to disappoint people if you never made any promises, right?
“Ready to get back into it?” Paige asked, plucking one of the napkins he had forgotten he’d been holding. She dabbed at her mouth. “I need to keep this momentum up, otherwise I’m going to fall in a heap.”
Her voice had taken on a bubbly quality, like a giggle was right there on the tip of her tongue. Waiting to burst forth. A pink flush broke through her freckles and light tan, the effect of a good night of drinking and warm weather. Her skin looked glowy, slightly damp.
It was starting to heat up in the upstairs function room. Someone had cracked a window but the Australian summer was unrelenting, even at night. Noah reached behind him to grab a can of Coke that was sitting in a tub of ice.
“Here.” He handed it to her. “Looks like you’re getting overheated.”
She pressed the cold can to the side of her neck and let out a little sigh. “Oh my God, I didn’t even know I needed that.”
Condensation ran in droplets along the can’s smooth surface, dripping onto her chest. God, he wanted to run his tongue along her skin. “Glad to help,” he said, tightly.
The sharp clap of Libby’s hands from the front of the room shook him out of his lust-induced fog. Christ, he really needed to get his act together. For some reason this country girl had gotten him all tangled up and flipped inside out.
“All right, everyone, are we ready for one last cocktail?” Libby’s question was met with a raucous cheer from the group. “We’re going to be making frozen watermelon and mint margaritas. It’s a great summer drink and one we’ll be including on the specials board for the next few weeks. You’ll notice I’ve added a few extra tools to your work stations…”
The tables had been repositioned close to the walls so that each pair had a blender that was plugged into a power outlet. There was a container of cubed watermelon, some sprigs of mint, tequila, limes, a juicer, Cointreau, sugar, and salt.
“What’s this one called?” one of the participants asked.
All the cocktails had been given terrible pun-inspired names, like Wanna Get Lei’d? for their take on a Blue Hawaiian. There was no way Des would add them to the regular menu, but for the purpose of the mixology classes the crowd seemed to be enjoying the silliness.
“Resting Beach Face.” Libby grinned and Paul shook his head, but his lips twitched as though holding a laugh back. “And this is going to be a timed activity. You’ve got the instructions in front of you and we’ll put a timer on. First pair who finishes wins a prize.”
“How about you start measuring out the liquids and I’ll juice the lime,” Noah said, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand rather than the eye-catching freckles dusting the smooth curve of Paige’s shoulders.
“Planning to win?” she grinned. “I knew you had a competitive streak! I’ll take that five dollars, thank you very much.”
“You said I’d be competitive by the time we made the first cocktail.” He nudged her with his elbow. “And this is the last cocktail. Looks like you owe me.”
“You’re sneaky, Noah. I’ll remember that.” She reached for the tequila and cringed. “Tequila is not my first choice, let me tell you.”
“Bad experience?” he asked as he sliced a lime in half.
“It seemed to be the drink of choice when I was at university.” She uncapped the bottle and held it away from her, nose wrinkled. “One night I came home to the share house I lived in so drunk I’d decided to strip down in the bathroom and walk naked into my bedroom. Only…it wasn’t my bedroom. My best friend and her boyfriend were in there. Apparently I screamed like a banshee, did a pirouette, and ran through the house for a good five minutes before I figured out which room was mine.”
Noah snorted. “Has she ever let you live it down?”
“Hell no. I’m just grateful iPhones were crazy expensive back in those days so no one had a camera at close range.” She shook her head, one hand pressed to her temple. “The Naked Pirouette incident lives on like an urban legend.”
“You’re famous.”
“For all the wrong reasons.” She dumped the tequila into the blender. “Story of my life.”
“I can’t imagine you being anything but Little Miss Perfect.” Noah squeezed the lime juice into the blender, his arm brushing against Paige’s as he leaned forward. “You seem like such a responsible young lady.”
“Yeah, well, the tequila rebellion didn’t last long. After a few months of partying I got my first round of assignments back and I got a pass on one of them.” She shuddered.
“I thought a pass was a good thing.”
“A pass is terrible. It’s like…” She waved her hands around. “Fifty to sixty percent.”
“But it’s not a fail?”
“No, a fail is less than fifty percent.”
Noah raised a brow. In his books, fifty percent had been a reason to celebrate, but then again he hadn’t finished high school so Paige’s educational experience had obviously been different from his. He never understood how to thrive in a system that seemed to benefit those who could sit still. Each day had been a battle against the urge to jump out of a classroom window.
He reached for the mint sprigs and started plucking the leaves off. “You’re one of those people who has to be the best at everything, aren’t you?”
“Gee, what makes you say that?” She grinned and reached for the container filled with watermelon. “Yeah, I’m one of those people. What were you? Class clown? High school hunk?”
Lone Wolf. Even after making friends with Paul in the third grade—and later, Des—Noah had always kept to himself. It wasn’t until after he’d dropped out of school and left that stifling environment that he found his feet. But he wasn’t about to heap that depressing shit all over Paige and her sparkly disposition.
“Your mind went to high school hunk, huh?” He nudged her with his elbow. “I’m flattered.”
“It went to clown first,” she corrected.
“Did you call your new boss a clown?” He raised a brow, stifling a laugh when her eyes suddenly went wide.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Cool your jets, country girl. I’m yanking your chain.” He shredded the mint leaves and dumped them into the blender. “But I think it’s cute that you’ve got a crush on me.”
She sucked in a breath. “I do not.”
“Those cheeks don’t lie.” That time he couldn’t stop the laughter from bursting out. Paige’s face was about as pink as the watermelon she was carefully dropping into the blender.
“It’s hot in here,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just…hot.”
Yes, you are.
“Hurry up,” he said. “We’ve got a prize to win.”
…
Paige swiped the back of her hand across her cheek and kept her eyes firmly on the blender and away from Noah, concentrating on getting the ingredients into it as quickly as possible. A hot, prickly sensation had spread all the way down her neck and onto her chest, no doubt making her look like some kind of human-tomato hybrid. If she got any hotter she might spontaneously combust.
“Pass the sugar,” she said, primly. “We need two teaspoons.”
Instructions were good. Safe. They’d keep her mind off his holy hotness standing right next to her. Damn it. Did he have to smell so good? The fresh mint had mixed with his aftershave, and the hint of tequila still lingering in the air reminded her of all the times she’d cut loose and enjoyed herself in her early university days.
Cutting loose is not your style. You work hard, you succeed, and you do it respectably.
Her university friends had ribbed her mercilessly for freaking out over getting a pass, especially since all her other subjects had been graded as distinctions or high distinctions. Not exactly the results of an academic failure. For some people, the bare minimum might be good enough. But not for her. She’d moved away from her family to pursue her dream of getting an education, so she hadn’t wanted to squander it on parties.
Or worse, throwing her future away like her brother had.
Besides, it hadn’t just been about the marks. The Naked Pirouette incident had come off the back of giving up her virginity and getting dumped-slash-cheated on all within twenty-four hours. She hadn’t known how to deal with it—so there’d been a brief period of acting out until she’d refocused on her grades. Because that was something she could control…and Paige liked control.
“Okay, we still need to measure out the Cointreau, as well as add a pinch of salt and the ice.” She sucked in a breath and tried to think professional thoughts. “Quick. They’ve already got their blender going.”
Unfortunately for her, professionalism seemed to vanish like a magician’s trick every time she looked at him. Today, his blond hair had the right amount of rumpling. Like he knew exactly how many times to run his hands through it so it looked perfectly messy and sexy.
“Why don’t you do the ice?” His voice was casual, but his cheeky expression sent a rush of excitement through her. “You look like you need to cool down.”
Paige opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Clearly all the blood in her body was powering her lady parts rather than her brain. Shaking her head, she scooped out the required number of ice cubes and dumped them into the blender.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so eager to try out all the vodkas and other cocktails they’d made over the course of the evening. Alcohol was a known ingredient in bad decisions. She’d help Noah with this cocktail but abstain from the taste test.
“I’ll let you finish us off.” He gestured to the blender.
“How gentlemanly of you.” She tried to sound lighthearted and breezy, but Noah’s expression said he wasn’t buying it. She slapped the lid on. “Let’s do this.”
Paige turned the dial, and the ingredients rattled against the blades. The ice wasn’t reducing enough, so she gave it a little shake like she used to do with the blender back home. But her fingers were slippery, and she hit the high-speed mode. Pink liquid shot up and sprayed out through the opening between the lid and the glass, splashing against her and Noah.
Paige squealed as they both reached for the blender at the same time, their hands colliding as the damn thing continued to spit at them.
“Turn it off!” she shouted as she tried to get her palm down over the lid.
A second later the sound of spinning blades died down and Paige took in the damage. Chunky pink liquid coated her and Noah as well as their workstation and the floor.
“You didn’t think to check the lid before you turned it on?” he asked, shaking his hands free of the cocktail. Part of a jagged mint leaf clung to his hair.
“I was trying to go fast so we could catch up.”
“Sure you were.”
“Oh yeah, I totally did that on purpose because I wanted to smell like something a drunk teenage girl vomited up.” Her tank now looked like something out of a Dexter episode. She was pretty sure she had watermelon in her ear, too. “It’s so sexy.”
To her utter shock, Noah leaned in and inhaled. “Smells pretty darn good to me.”
Her stomach roiled, although this time she wasn’t sure it was from the tequila or how close he’d gotten. “You’ve got bad taste.”
“I prefer the term ‘questionable.’” He grinned. “That I can argue against.”
It was hard to take him seriously when he looked like he had a vegetable garden growing out of his head. She reached up and plucked the pieces of shredded mint leaf. “Tell me you’ve got a secret shower in this place. This stuff is starting to dry and I feel like I’m about to get mummified.”
“Nope. But I do have some promo T-shirts downstairs so at least you can change.”
“I’ll take it.”
Libby rushed over, a roll of paper towel in her hands. “Oh no! Are you both okay?”
“Just a little juice, nothing we can’t handle.” Noah reached for the paper towel and tore a few sheets off, first for Paige and then for himself. “We’re going to go change out of these sticky clothes and then I’ll get this station cleaned up. I don’t want to interrupt the class any further, Lib.”
Paige pressed a wad of paper towel to her chest and shoulders, trying to get the biggest bits of watermelon off her skin. Paul kept the class going from the front of the room while Libby carefully unplugged the blender, her dress bunched in one hand to stop it from brushing against the floor.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Noah said.
“I think you might be dirtier than me.” Paige followed him as they ducked behind the rest of the room and made their way to the stairs. “Although I must say, pink looks good on you.”
He also wore a white T-shirt that now had a distinct watermelon tint to it. “I look good in everything,” he said, tossing a wink over his shoulder.
I bet you look good in nothing.
Paige followed him down the stairs, her eyes locked on to the easy movement of his hips and butt. His jeans were fitted but not tight, a little worn but not sloppy. Just like everything else about him, it hit the Goldilocks segment on the perfection scale.
First was in full swing on the main floor. The bartenders moved back and forth, smiling and appearing to enjoy their work. Paige had loved the vibe of First from day one. She’d been worried about sticking out like a sore thumb in the city bars since her wardrobe didn’t consist of fancy dresses and designer heels. But the clientele here was more relaxed—her kind of people.
“Lucky we ended up with a bunch of leftover T-shirts from a promo that we had a few months back,” Noah said as they slipped behind the bar and into the back office. “I should have something in your size.”
He located a box and tipped the contents out onto the desk. The T-shirts were black and had my blood type is coffee #MelbCoffeeWeek printed in bold white font. She dug through the pile, looking for one in her size.
“It would have been luckier for me to put the blender lid on properly,” she said, reaching for another T-shirt. “Sorry about that. I…”
The words died on her tongue when she looked up in time to catch Noah pulling his dirty T-shirt over his head. His muscles flexed and rippled with the movement. Holy smokes, he wasn’t just Goldilocks level of perfect. The man was a freaking god.
“You…?” He raised a brow and tossed the damp T-shirt into the corner.
A silver nipple ring glinted in the light. It was the bar type with two little baubles, one at each end. Paige had never seen one in the flesh before—all the guys she’d dated were conservative. Good, wholesome boys.
Was Noah a bad boy? Because the word “good” certainly didn’t spring to mind. Her breath stuck in her throat as she tried to tear her gaze away from the piercing and all that hard, honed muscle. Lord, he even had one of those vee things going on that she’d previously thought was achievable only by Photoshop.
“I…” Her brain whirred. “Thanks for the T-shirt.”
She had one gripped in her hand so tight that her knuckles ached. It probably wasn’t even the right size. The second she’d seen all that bare skin…poof! Her brain had done a disappearing act.
“You going to put it on or stand there squeezing it to death?” He leaned forward to grab a T-shirt for himself.
“I’m waiting for a little privacy.” She made sure to look anywhere but at his naked torso. “Could you turn around?”
“Sorry ’bout that.” His lip twitched, but he turned away. “How rude of me.”
Paige didn’t immediately look away, too taken by the tattoo that stretched out across his back. The image showed an angel, with great big feathery wings and a sword, running down the length of his spine. Three names were written on a scroll that hung from one of the angel’s hands. Could be his sisters’ names. But what if one was a girlfriend…or fiancée?
Paige sucked in a breath and whirled away, her hand catching on a shelf that was stacked with folders. Wincing, she shook her hand out to try and disperse the pain. That’s when she realized the T-shirt was huge. The label read “Men’s XXL.”
“You done yet?” Noah asked.
If she riffled through the pile again now, it would only confirm that she’d been so distracted by him that she’d lost track of what she was doing. Not exactly a good look considering she’d asked for privacy.
So instead, she ditched her tank and pulled her denim skirt down her legs, then slipped the T-shirt on. It hung down to her thighs, and was roomy enough for a friend. Given Paige was fairly tall herself, it still showed quite a bit of leg, but it effectively covered up enough so that she wouldn’t get booked for indecent exposure.
How was it that she kept managing to end up half naked in front of Noah?
“Yeah, all done.” She bundled her skirt and tank up and tucked them under one arm. “This should be decent enough for me to get home and have a shower.”
“I thought we were all going dancing,” he said.
When she faced him again, there was a heat in his eyes. He looked…hungry. “I can’t go dancing in this,” she said, smoothing her hands over the sack-like T-shirt. “And besides, I’m covered in watermelon.”
“Come on, live a little.” He grinned. “Even Little Miss Perfect has to let her hair down sometimes. Would it help if I made you a bet?”
“Now why would you do that? As my boss, you’re supposed to be setting a good example.”
“Paige, I’ve never been a good example for anyone.” The smile turned from cheeky to wolfish. “And that’s just the way I like it.”
“You think you’re so charming.” She folded her arms across her chest, trying to muster all the bravado in her arsenal. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. “But I hate to break it to you, I’m immune.”
“Got that vaccine, huh? Good girls like you always think they’re immune.”
“I am.” She stuck her nose in the air. “I mean, you’re attractive. But you’re not my type. Sorry.”
“Really?” His eyes glinted. “So if I kissed you now you wouldn’t feel a thing?”
Shit. He was calling her bluff. The smart thing to do would be to back down and hightail it out of the bar. But Paige’s love of competition ran deep. He’d ignited the side that needed to win—and right now, with everything that was going on in her life, she was craving a win.
“I’m afraid not. Good looks aren’t enough for me. I need spark.” She waved her hand around, taunting him. “Chemistry.”
What are you doing? This is your boss. This job is the only thing keeping your dreams afloat right now.
But drawing a line between her and Noah would preserve that. If she shot him down hard enough, she might have the willpower to keep some distance between them. If only she wasn’t absolutely, positively sure that she’d melt into a puddle the second his lips touched hers.
“You think we don’t have chemistry?” He raised a brow.
“I don’t,” she lied. “But you’re welcome to try.”
The instant the words popped out of her mouth she regretted them. She’d given him the green light to test her boundaries. To kiss her.
Better go home and pack those bags. You’re done for.
“I’ll do the right thing and give you to the count of three to back down.”
Shit. This was getting too real, too fast.
“One.” His hand came up to her face, the backs of his knuckles tracing along her cheek in a featherlight touch.
Say something.
“Two.” His hand curled around her jaw, sliding back until his fingers threaded into her hair.
Say something. Now!
“Last chance, Paige.” His eyes were dancing, wild and untamed. He looked like he wanted to devour her. “Three.”
The kiss was hard at first. Bruising. Desperate.
But then he slowed things down. One hand pressed into her lower back, forcing her body against his, and the other cradled her head while his tongue brushed against hers. He played her body like an instrument. Stroking. Maneuvering. Guiding.
She sighed into him, tilting her head back to let him take the kiss deeper. He tasted sweet and tart, like the citrus vodka cocktail they’d made together. There was a generous dusting of stubble on his jaw, and it lightly scratched against her skin. Roughing her up. Making her nerve endings sing. His lips were firm, demanding. His kiss scorched her insides until she was sure she’d turn to dust in his arms.
“Noah,” she moaned as his hand inched farther down her spine.
“Fuck, Paige.”
The muttered curse made her blood roar as it pumped through her. She wasn’t used to being a seductive creature—no man had ever told her she was hot. Sexy. No man had ever made her feel like she was an object of desire. And for so long she’d told herself it was because she had something more to offer than her looks. But right now, with Noah’s lips and hands on her, feeling desirable was the best damn thing in all the world.
“I knew it,” he said, victory glittering in his eyes. “You want me as much as I want you.”
Paige sucked in a breath, the reality of their kiss crashing down on her. She’d kissed her boss. Not just kissed, but basically dry humped him in the middle of his office.
The worst part was, it felt so incredibly right.
“I didn’t feel anything,” she said, her voice wobbling worse than a trainee circus performer. “Not even a little spark.”
“Liar.” He shot her a smug look. “Don’t you know life’s more fun when you stop worrying about doing the right thing?”
But it wasn’t. Fun wasn’t important to her. Success was. And success meant getting her perfect job, finding the right guy, and settling down. She wasn’t going to risk putting herself in a position where she might lose it all. This job was her life jacket, and she needed it more than she needed fun. More than she needed kisses that made her head spin.
“You’re still hanging on like you’re about to drown.” He grazed the edge of his stubble-coated jaw along her neck, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation through her. “You enjoyed the hell out of that.”
She pulled her hands back from his chest and curled them by her sides. Frustration mingled with all her raging hormones because she wanted to be annoyed at him for saying that. She wanted to be able to throw that smirk back in his face by walking away. But he was right.
“I have a hard limit when it comes to getting involved with people at work,” she said.
“And kissing doesn’t count?”
Her breath hitched, her lips still tingling. “It was a test.”
“Didn’t feel like a test to me.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Felt pretty fucking incredible, if I’m being honest.”
She could try to lie again, but it was clear he wasn’t buying it. Guys like Noah had experience—they were confident. They knew what attraction felt like.
“I’m not looking for a fling.” She took a step back and felt a metal bookshelf dig into her back. Noah hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t crowded her—and yet his presence felt like it was swelling, taking up every spare inch of space until she could see nothing but him.
“You might not be looking for it, but you want it. I’d put my last dollar on that.”
“You want to make a bet? Fine.” She sucked in a breath. “From now on I’ll keep my lips to myself.”
He looked at her intently. “Who are you trying to convince?”
She stuck her hand out toward him, ignoring his highly inconvenient question. “I won’t kiss you again while I’m working at First.”
“Why would I bet on that?” He took a step closer. “What’s in it for me?”
“The thrill of a challenge.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “That should be prize enough.”
Whoa! Did you not just have that whole conversation with him about how he’s not the right guy for you?
It didn’t matter. Paige wasn’t the undefeated queen of debate for nothing. She wouldn’t lose.
“I want to make it clear I don’t need to bet girls for a kiss,” he said, but then his palm slid along hers, his fingers squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “But you’re right. I do enjoy a challenge.”
“I hope you enjoy losing, as well.”
He chuckled, the warm air brushing her cheek in a promise of things to come. Or was it a threat? “I accept, Paige Thomas.”
She tilted her face up as they shook on it, making sure she looked him dead in the eye.
What the hell have you done?