Scarred Beautiful (6 page)

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replies, raising a brow and smiling mischievously.

“I’m here for the conference. It’s my company who sponsored it.” I lean forward and grab a couple of peanuts from the bowl as I wait for her response.

“No shit?” she comes back with, and for some reason it makes me chuckle. She’s got quite the mouth on her, and I let my eyes drift to it momentarily.

She catches my gaze and grins at me, resting her elbow on the table and her head in the palm of her hand. Her tongue sneaks out to drag across her bottom lip. “Something appeal to you?”

Well, she’s either drunk or very forward. Not really my style either way. I’ve had my share of drunken women and I can’t stand women that are overtly flirtatious like they’re trying too hard. She’s gotta be plastered, because to look at her, you wouldn’t think she’d have to try hard at all.

“No, not particularly,” I reply with an abrupt smile, scraping my hands down the front of my jeans, not knowing why the hell I’m reacting to her this way.

“Geez, kill me with kindness, why don’t you?” She smirks. “So I guess it’s safe to say you’re not as sweet as your brother.” Her laughter rings out, and I can’t tell whether she’s serious or not but I’m immediately taken aback. She doesn’t even know me.

I narrow my eyes, my lips forming a hard line. “What exactly is
that
supposed to mean?”

She flicks the ice in her glass with her finger before looking back at me, assessing me a little too heavily for my liking. “You seem…uptight. Like you need to dislodge the stick that’s up your ass.” She lets out a hearty, and I think, drunken laugh. “I’d give you some help with that, but it’s not my thing.”

What the fuck? Fran’s got some nerve. The girl has barely spoken to me and already she’s pissing me off. Maybe because there’s a ring of truth to her words. I didn’t realize I was that transparent.

I smirk and sit up straighter, rolling my shoulders to ease the discomfort there. Suddenly I’m very curious what her
thing
is. “First, you imply that I’m not sweet, and now I have a stick up my ass? Boy,” I chuckle, before adding, “you’re a real ego booster. Remind me to hang out with you more often.”

I’m sitting across from Matt, slightly buzzed and amused all at once. I think I’m getting under his skin and I like the feeling. I wouldn’t mind getting under
him
, period. Gabby would probably scream at me if she knew I was lusting after Brad’s brother in just the ten minutes since we’ve been in each other’s company. He’s definitely not sore on the eyes, though, and more ruggedly handsome than I remember: sandy brown, shaggy hair that falls over eyes the color of sea glass, a chiseled jaw with just a hint of stubble, that adorable dimple on his right cheek, and the subtle curve of his lips. Not to mention the way those jeans hug his slim waist and that black t-shirt clings to the defined muscles of his chest—I have to stop myself. That would be wrong, right? He’s Brad’s brother.

He must sense me staring because he smirks even after I’ve insulted him. He’s kind of an open book, though. His clothes may be relaxed but his body language screams uptight, and I bet he’s a workaholic, too.

“So have you talked to your brother lately?” I ask him, trying to distract myself from my indecent line of thought.

“Oh, you mean, my
sweet
brother?” he taunts, raising a brow and throwing my words back in my face.

“Yeah, that one.”

His lips flip at the edges and he shakes his head as if he can’t believe I would think he’s uptight. “I just talked to him yesterday, in fact. He’s doing well, and he’s consumed with Gabby and their wedding plans. She makes him really happy and I’m glad. My little brother deserves it.”

I see the admiration and genuine love in his eyes when he talks about Brad. It mirrors exactly the way I feel about Gabby. After her fiancée died, I wasn’t sure she’d ever open up again, so finding Brad was truly a miracle.

“They both deserve it,” I say, drawing invisible doodles on my napkin. “Gabby finally has her fairytale ending.” My voice lowers and my smile fades at the thought of what lies ahead for me.

“What about you?” he asks, scrutinizing me under his thick, full lashes. “What’s your fairytale ending?”

I thought I had it. I finally accepted that maybe I deserved happiness after all, reaching my hand out to a future that was so close I could feel it, I could taste it, and just when I grabbed hold of it, Kyle was wrenched away from me. My throat begins to close up, only a few words leak out accompanied by a laugh that’s filled with sadness. “There’s no fairytale for me. It’s not in the cards.”

He cocks his head to the side, his expression shifting to one of concern mixed with maybe a bit of curiosity. I don’t know what possessed me to say that to him, it’s not something that should’ve slipped out. It’s none of his business. “Why is that, Fran?”

Luckily, Peyton and Caleb show up at the table just in time, saving me from having to respond to Matt’s question because there is no simple answer.

When I look up, Caleb is holding a tray of shot glasses. Peyton’s face is flushed pink and she can’t take her eyes off of him.

“Let’s get trashed!” Caleb shouts over the music now booming from the speakers around the bar. He takes a seat and immediately pulls Peyton next to him, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. Her eyes make their way to mine and she winks, letting me know this night is about to get interesting.

“What is it?” Matt asks, picking up one of the shot glasses and swirling the liquid around.

“It’s tequila,” Caleb replies, passing one out to me and then to Peyton. “Ready, on a count of three—”

Matt holds up his hand. “You know I’m not a fan.” He places the shot glass down on the table and pushes it away.

I look over at him and smile, sliding it back in his direction. “Matt…remember the stick? Remove it, and live a little. You can always put it back in later.”

His lips turn up in a lopsided grin, forcing his dimple out and, for a brief moment, making me weak in the knees…and I’m sitting down. He picks up the shot glass and clinks it against mine. “Cheers.”

We down the tequila, followed by two more, and suddenly my body is heated and my head is swimming. I’m glad tomorrow’s Sunday because there’s no way I won’t wake up with a hangover.

I can see Matt staring at me from the corner of my eye before he gets up from the table. A minute later he returns with a large glass of ice water and passes it to me, his fingers skimming mine for the briefest of moments, and I can’t deny the quickening of my pulse or the desire building between my legs. I haven’t been with anyone in over eight months, since my last attempt to forget Kyle, which ended in complete disaster. Right when we were in the heat of the moment and he was about to enter me, I rolled over and asked him to leave. It wasn’t working. He wasn’t making me forget and that’s all I wanted him for.

“Drink,” he commands, continuing to watch as I gulp down the entire glass. A shiver rolls through me, the blast of cold a shock to my system.

“A bit demanding, aren’t you?” I tilt my head and let my eyes flirt lazily with his body, while other parts of me are more than curious just how demanding he might be.

Caleb and Peyton are whispering to one another, her fingers toying with the dark hair around his ear, and I already know where
that’s
leading so I decide I’m going to call it a night.

“All right lovebirds,” I slur, and notice Peyton giving me the death glare, “I’m heading up to bed.”

Matt stands up and kicks his chair back, the scraping noise jarring my drunken state. “I’ll walk you.”

Shit.

I say goodbye to Caleb and give Peyton a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you in the morning…after you’ve slept in,” I whisper, and feel a pang of jealousy hit my alcohol-ridden gut, wishing that I didn’t have so much baggage dragging me down, pulling me under and making it impossible for me to breathe.

Matt places his hand on my lower back and ushers me through the bar and out to the bank of elevators. If I was the old Fran, I’d have jumped Matt’s bones the minute I saw him…not that I’m not still thinking about it. He just can’t
know
that I’m thinking about it.

We step into the elevator, neither of us saying anything, but as the car ascends I can feel Matt’s stare boring a hole through my dress. I look up to meet his eyes. “
What
?”

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders, “it’s just that you’re freaking cute…that’s all.”

I put my hands on my hips, my eyebrows crinkling, attempting to appear offended and not tip over at the same time. “I’m not having sex with you, Matt, so just forget it.” Even though I really want to.

Before I can even blink, Matt is standing in front of me. He places his hands on either side of my head and leans in, his scent filling the space around me, masculine yet sweet, intoxicating. His soft lips brush the shell of my ear, his breath a warm dusting across my cheek. “Did I
say
anything about wanting to have sex with you, Fran? Because if I wanted to be inside that hot little body of yours, you’d know it.”

My throat goes dry, his words turning me on. I drop my gaze to his mouth, close my eyes and inhale a deep breath through my nose, attempting to control my raging hormones. When I open them, he’s smiling down at me.

“Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out,” I croak, just in time for the elevator doors to open.

Fuck she’s hot. I can feel her uneven breaths against my lips as her chest rises and falls after hearing my words. Those eyes, like green panes of stained glass. That plump bottom lip, I’d love to take between my teeth. And she smells good, like jasmine and lavender.

I’m not sure what possessed me to say that to her. I know nothing about her. She’s like a little spark though. She lit me up tonight with her smart, sexy mouth, and now she’s got me thinking thoughts I haven’t in a long time, stirring something deep inside of me that’s been asleep. Like how I want to take her right here, make her scream my name while she comes apart beneath me.

The elevator doors open and she ducks down and sneaks underneath my arm to make her way out.

“Goodnight, Matt.”

I hold the doors open and watch her walk down the hall, taking one last look over her shoulder before she turns the corner to her room, leaving me with only one thought.

When
do I get to see her again?

Shit. I’m fucked.

I slip the keycard into the door as quickly as I can, my hands somewhat shaky, my feet aching from the high heels I desperately need to remove. The moment I’m inside, I sag back against the door and slide down to the carpet, immediately taking off my shoes and tossing them aside. The guy went from tight-ass to hot-as-hell quicker than it takes a Ferrari to pick up speed. Maybe he’s bipolar.

I’m breathing heavy and I know it’s not from the alcohol or from any form of physical exertion, although I wish it was—
shit
. What possessed me to say that to Matt in the elevator?
Gee, Fran, I don’t know, maybe the fact that all you could think about as he was sitting across the table from you was having sex with him
.