On his way into the kitchen, he texts something on his phone, but I don’t ask what.
Watching River walk that walk to the kitchen, I can only smile. “Is that an invitation? Because I didn’t think I needed one,” I tease, now laughing out loud and grinning widely.
“You don’t,” he says as he turns back to catch me staring at his backside. He winks at me, and then grins so wide his dimples are almost pulsing.
River plugs his phone into an iPod dock on the counter and U2’s Beautiful Day surrounds us as he glances at me from under his brows, a small grin curving from his lips, and he hums along to the song. What is he doing?
Opening the refrigerator, River pulls out two bottles of beer. He lifts one up and asks, “Is this okay? I’m not really a good bartender, but I can try to whip up something if you want.”
I nod my head, my ever-present smile still in place. “It’s perfect. Can I get a glass of ice please?”
“Hmmm . . .” I hear River say, still grinning at me and shaking his head.
He starts opening and closing a few cupboards until he finds the glasses. He pulls down two and places them on the counter. After filling one with ice from the dispenser on the refrigerator door and pouring the beer into the glasses, he walks toward the large L shaped sofa and motions for me to come over and have a seat.
As I walk toward him, I can’t help but notice how hot he looks. He’s like a magnet, and I’m a piece of metal being pulled to him without control. When I’m close enough to see into his eyes, the ones I have looked into one too many times, this time I’m thinking I hope they don’t let me out.
Raising an eyebrow, he says, “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and trying to resist the pull.
“Hmmm . . .” I hear again as he walks even closer to me. He motions with one hand for me to sit. I do as he suggests, and he hands me my drink and says, “That’s not very definitive.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I’m a little distracted by his messy but perfect hair and overall good looks. I want to ask him if he has any idea how attractive he is. What’s wrong with me? I’m giddy like a teenager for Christ sakes!
Taking a large sip of my drink to cool down my overheated body, I immediately feel it; a brain-freeze. I squint my eyes trying to stop it, to will it away.
“Much colder with ic . . .” I hear him start to say, but the end of his sentence trails off.
I look up as he sets his glass on the table. He must have noticed my brain-freeze face because he says, “Close your eyes.”
I look at him quizzically while squinting.
His close proximity makes me feel even more off as he says, “Brain-freeze, right?”
I nod my head yes and close my eyes.
Placing his fingers on each side of my temples, River firmly presses while massaging circles at the same time. The goosebumps rear their heads and my temples are on fire, forget the freeze.
I once again feel his nose in the crook of my neck, but this time on his way up to my ear he allows his lips to skim the most sensitive flesh of my neck. When he reaches my ear he whispers, “Better?”
Nodding my head slowly, I open my eyes, very aware of how close we are. My breathing starts to increase again. Does he realize what that little move does to me? I really just want to grab him, but I restrain myself, remembering dinner and the interview. Yes . . . dinner and interview.
Pulling back to a safe distance, River once again masters changing gears as his conversation leads us back to normalcy. He questions me about where I grew up, what I was like in high school, where I went to college, and my life in general.
My mind drifts back to Ben time and time again. I’m finding it difficult to not mention him, but his spirit occupies my every memory. I’m talking to River, but Ben is in my head. I start to wonder what the hell I’m doing.