After dancing, my heart was beating a little faster and my skin felt flushed. And I really did need that drink because my mouth was bone dry.
I was relieved that Colton was a resourceful kind of guy. He knew exactly where the open bar was located, and bless him, he took me straight there. Once we each had a plastic cup in hand, he set his free palm on the small of my spine to escort me back to my table, which felt…nice, actually.
But a guy waiting in the back of the line for the bar pointed at us. “Yo, Colton. That’s just pop, right?”
I recognized the man as being a groomsman. There’d been two—the wedding pamphlet had named them Noel Gamble and Oren Tenning. Since this guy looked Brandt-ish, I figured he was Noel, which would make him Colton’s big brother.
Lifting his cup as if in cheers, Colton answered, “Of course.”
I glanced at him, frowning slightly and trying to remember what he’d ordered for himself. Had it only been cola? I wasn’t sure.
“You were drinking champagne earlier,” I suddenly remembered.
He shrugged as he took a sip from his cup. “They let me since I had to make the toast.”
“Oh.” I nodded in understanding. That made sense. As we approached my table, I drank from my own Crown and Coke. “You know, that toast you gave actually didn’t suck.”
With a gasp, he clutched his chest. “Holy shit, is that a compliment? From the Julianna Radcliffe?”
“What?” I sniffed, a little hurt. “I can give a compliment.”
“Yeah. Just not to me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but damn...was he right? I tried but couldn’t think of a single time I’d complimented him or even said a polite thing in his direction. Damn, how utterly bitchy of me. Feeling crappy about that, I blurted, “Well...the way you tricked me onto the dance floor was evilly genius. Well done there.”
He snickered. “Damn, girl. Slow down. Too much more praise from you and you’ll convince me you’re in love with me or something. I mean, not that I’d blame you, but—”
“Oh, shut up...jerk.” I shoved at his arm only to chase it with a laugh.
When I rolled my eyes, he chuckled too and fell into the chair he’d been sitting in earlier across from me. No one else who’d been assigned to sit at my table was there. In fact, they’d never shown up at all. The only items that had been used at their seats were their champagne glasses, which I’d drank from, one after another, when the server had come around to fill them for the toast: the witty, clever, sweet, endearing toast Colton had given.
When I sat in the seat next to him and not the one I’d been sitting in earlier all the way across the table, he glanced at me pointedly with lifted eyebrows.
I ignored his surprise and watched the dancers as a slow tune started. It wasn’t as if I actually wanted Colton’s company, I tried to convince myself. But he wasn’t acting as if he was going to go away anytime soon, and…well, having someone to talk to—even him—made things suck a little less.
Okay, fine...he was amazing to talk to—entertaining, perceptive, and fuck...that little leap in my pulse every time he looked at me with those hooded, brown bedroom eyes was becoming addictive.
I’m not sure why I didn’t consider leaving. I’d been ready to walk out the door not too long ago. My tush had been out of my seat, my gaze had been locked on the exit, and my purse would’ve been in hand...if he hadn’t stolen it. But here I was now, purse returned, and I was voluntarily sitting by Colton Gamble of all people.
Just how many glasses of champagne had I stolen from my absent table companions?
“So what else do you like about me?” he prompted before taking a long draw from his cup and eyeing me speculatively over the rim.
I watched his throat work as he swallowed, wondering how that strong column of skin would taste if I licked it. Then I jerked my gaze away. “Nothing. You know how to manipulate people into getting what you want, and you give non-sucky speeches. That’s...that’s about it.”
No way would I admit how my thighs had trembled, or my breathing caught, or my mind raced with the most inappropriate thoughts every time he’d ever come into the bar.
“Nah, that can’t be all.” He shook his head before looking me straight in the eye. “What about my big brown eyes? A girl once told me I had penetrating eyes, like I could see straight inside her.”
I ground my teeth, mad at myself for just admiring his eyes. Then I grew mad at that girl for being stupid enough to inflate his ego even more by telling him how awesome they were. And then...then my anger rose toward him for talking to another girl at all, or getting close enough to her that she could see his eyes and compliment them. But at the end of it all, I was only mad at myself for the stupid knee-jerk sensation of jealousy I felt.
I mean, why the hell would I be jealous of another girl for merely talking to him? That was just stupid.