Perfectly Pink - An It's Always Been You Romance (Complete)

Chapter 13

The scent of his aftershave surrounded her, sending sparks down her spine with each inhale. His skin was warm under her touch, surprisingly soft under the collar of his t-shirt. And his lips tasted of summers gone by.

Mary moaned unabashedly. No reason to hold back. They were alone at last, no one to hear her but Simon. And he'd heard her scream his name so what was a little moan.

It hadn't taken much to get him up to her room. Mostly time. When she bumped into him in the hall downstairs, she couldn't exactly grab him by the shirt and haul him back to her room right away. No, there was the game to play first. The pre-game to the big event.

First, there was the avoidance phase. Mary played socialite, even with Finn's army buddies, laughing and teasing them. She paid particular attention to the short one Sophie had expressed interest in. Wanted to gauge his interest in her. With Sophie in tow, Mary discovered his name was Max, and he was on a weekend pass for the festivities. Turns out Max was a hard one to read. Her attempts at engaging him in conversation about the weather, current affairs or politics fell flat. But when Sophie asked about the places he'd been around the world, the man opened up, finally comfortable with a topic.

As Max prattled on, Mary started phase two of the pre-game ritual–using body language to entice Simon. Long, slow sips from her straw, eyes on her target. Rearranging her hair and playing with the straps of her dress. Shifting from one foot to the other. Simon's reactions to her every move wound the coil inside her tighter and tighter until finally, she decided it was time to spring her trap.

Simon headed into the house, and Mary initiated her exit plan. "Anyone need another drink?" A round of head shakes and she was free. Once in the kitchen, Mary simply asked Simon if he'd had a tour of the house yet.

"You wouldn't believe what the previous owners did to my room." And that was all it took. Fingers entwined; they climbed the stairs. Shoulders brushing, they walked down the hallway to her room. And once inside, she dragged his mouth to her.

And the game was on.

Or was it?

Simon's lips left her. "Wait."

Mary leaned forward, taking his lips again, craving the contact. Hands that had been in her hair slid to her shoulders and applied pressure.

In the wrong direction.

Simon pushed her away. She tried to maintain suction on his mouth but soon found herself kissing the air. Eyes popping open, she stamped her foot in frustration. This was not how they played the game. They should be half-naked by now. Instead, Simon created a gap between their bodies, cool air brushing across inflamed skin.

"Mary, wait." He stepped further away from her, his hands fluttering to his temple, rubbing it in small circles. "I... I can't do this."

"I'm pretty sure you can." Mary signalled at the bulge in his pants.

Simon followed her gaze. "It's not that I don't want to." Blue eyes bored into her. "I always want to- "

"Good." She jutted forward, trying to close the space keeping them apart. He moved in sync with her, like they were dancing an intricately choreographed two-step. The distance infuriated her even more. "Simon, stop moving."

"You're not listening to me."

"Oh, but I am. I hear you loud and clear." Another step, another matching retreat. "I'm just choosing to listen to your body, not the nonsense coming out of your mouth."

Hands held up before him, his palms extended outward like a man surrendering. "Stop!"

The edge in Simon's voice halted her progress, a pang prickled in her chest. She'd never heard the tone from Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, never seen a sign of distress from him before. Had she caused this? No, she wasn't doing anything they hadn't done a million times before. This couldn't be her fault.

Was he hurt? The thought caused more pangs, and she bit the inside of her cheek. "What's wrong?" The desperation in her voice shocked her.

He lowered his hands and his shoulders fell. It took effort to not reach out to him, to console rather than caress. She stopped progressing, gave him the space he requested and begged him to tell her what was going on.

"I want to go on a date."

Mary blinked.

Then blinked again.

She tried to process the statement. Or was this a proclamation? Either way, she didn't know what she expected him to say in explanation, but this was not it. "A date?"

His eyes found hers again, then glanced down at the floor. "Yes."

Her first instinct was to tell him she was happy for him. Go on a date. Then the meaning of his words hit. A date with her.

The urge to run, no flee the room mingled with something else–a thrill. The image of Simon ringing the doorbell downstairs, a bouquet of pink gerbera daisy in hand, a freshly pressed, white button-down shirt replacing the navy t-shirt he had on now. Would he wear dress pants or jeans? A suit? No, he probably didn't own a suit. Well, he did have one for the wedding. But that might have been rented. Still, surely the man had a suit somewhere in his closet. Would he open the car door for her? Where would they go? The only decent place in this small town was the Waterfront, his own restaurant. Everyone's heads would turn when they walked in together.

Everyone would see them together.

"We don't... date," she blurted.

"Maybe we should."

"Nope." It was her turn to back away.

Simon followed, reversing the dance from a moment ago. "Why not?"

"Because..." There was a logical end to that sentence, but her brain couldn't find it. The back of her leg hit the side of the mattress. The one they should be making full use of by now, not standing here stuck in this inane conversation. She opened her mouth to say because you never asked, but closed it in time. He was asking now. Instead, she came up with the brilliant, "Because we don't."

He stopped an arm's length away from her, for her protection or his she wasn't sure. "Let's change that. You and me. Dinner," he smiled the half-smile that caused heat to pool deep inside her, "table for two, candlelight, a bottle of wine."

Mary's eyes found his. He knew her so well. How was that possible? It couldn't be that bad, could it? After all, wasn't this why she came to stay with Emily? Rejected Sophie's offer to stay with her so she could remain in Washington. All to give in to temptation. For a few stolen moments with Simon. He was the reason she'd come to Bridgetown.

"We'll talk."

And just like that, the bubble burst. What on earth could they possibly have to talk about? They led different lives, in different towns, in different social circles. Simon knew nothing about Washington, about politics, even art for that matter. And she knew nothing about running a restaurant and whatever that entailed. They would have nothing to talk about. It would be a disaster. It would ruin everything.

Talking wasn't their thing. They were better at other, more physical actions. Things not for public consumption. Mary decided it was time to remind Simon of that fact. Enough of this delay. Someone downstairs might miss them and come looking. Time to get this show on the road.

"How about we kiss a little while I think about it?" She pouted her lips. Not quite her best move, but it never took much with Simon.

Except for this time. The man was shaking his head again. "No. No kissing, no...," he puffed out his cheeks, "no anything. Not until after our date."

"Isn't there anything I can do to convince you?" She swung her hips as she sauntered towards her prey.

"Nope." The corner of his mouth twitched.

"One little kiss–as an incentive." Simon's words said no, but his eyes were wide, and Mary knew she almost had him. If she could just get her hands on him, he'd give in. She knew it.

Simon crossed the room, opened her bedroom door and with one foot in the hallway, turned to her. "Mary Montgomery." His cheeks tinted with a rosy glow as he looked at her. "Will you go out with me?"