19. CONOR

CHAPTER 19

CONOR

" O kay, I have to admit I'm really excited about this one." I bounce my right knee because that's all I can do to release some of the energy coursing through my veins. Part of it is because I'm so damn hungry—I skipped lunch because I was stuck in a call, and I'm really looking forward for this taste test of the catering service to fix that issue.

The other part has no solution. Sierra and I sit together in what has to be the world's smallest booth with only a minuscule round table in it. I get that this caterer isn't a restaurant, so the floorspace can be minimal. But I'm 6 foot 2 and putting my arm in between us made her contort, so I've just taken to leaving it on the backrest. That means we're glued together, thighs, hips, and sides. Her curls tickle my nose if I turn to the left, and she smells amazing. I've been breathing as deep as I can, just so I can bottle up the scent in my cells.

The biggest challenge is how she feels. We removed our winter clothes because the place is too warm, so there's only a normal amount of padding between us. But her shoulders would be the perfect height for my arm, and she feels warm and soft in all the ways that make me think definitely not-safe-for-work thoughts.

"I hope everything's good." Sierra bites her left thumbnail softly. "We literally have no built-in buffer in the schedule for any emergencies."

"Don't worry, I have a backup plan," I say.

"Oh yeah?" She lifts her face up to mine and our noses brush.

I can't move, not even to breathe deeper. If I do, I'm going to lean down and taste the lip she's biting right now.

I swallow hard and my voice sounds alien to me as I speak. "Gramps makes a mean casserole."

Something bright and lovely flashes in her eyes right before she elbows me in the ribs. "Be serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious. It's to die for." Like the feeling of her body against mine right now.

"Alright, here we have assorted samples," a different voice comes from nearby.

Turning away from Sierra feels like the same physical effort it takes to lift up an entire car with my own hands alone, but somehow I manage.

The owner of the catering service stands before us, lowering a tray twice as large as the table. "To the left, we have the savory options. Cheese and bacon dipped pretzels, pigs in a blanket with Italian sausage and flaky pastry, and three different types of mini quiches ranging from vegan to vegetarian and carnivore."

My stomach grumbles loud enough to echo around the locale. Sierra stuffs her fist against her mouth, probably to stop herself from laughing.

Chuckling, the man continues. "And to the right, we have the sweet samples. Two options of churros, sugar and gingerbread, with hot chocolate. Vegan S'mores with our homemade gingersnap cookies. And finally, a black forest gateau with black cherry compote."

Sierra offers him a delighted smile. "If everything tastes half as delicious as it looks, this is going to be a success already."

"Excellent, please enjoy." He offers us two tiny forks. "I have to prepare for another tasting that is happening any minute now, but please do let me know if you have notes on any of the items."

"Thank you," she says.

Before either of them are done with the conversation, I attack the mini quiches. I don't know what combination of flavors it is that I just put in my mouth, but they hit me with a wave of pleasure and relief that my whole body vibrates with a groan. Sierra stiffens beside me and the caterer chokes.

Fire consumes my face. "Sorry. This is delicious and I'm hungry."

"Well." He coughs into his hand. "I'm glad you—" The rest of his sentence dies off as the entrance door bell goes off. "Oh, if you'll excuse me."

"Oh my gosh, Conor. I told you to stop that," Sierra hisses the words in a low tone after he leaves.

"I dare you not to moan once you try these things," I say back.

Harrumphing, she pinches the twin mini quiche to the one I just gobbled up and gives it a try. She places a hand against her lips as she chews, slowly turning to me. "Oh."

"See? It's not my fault. These are damn amazing." I grab the pig in a blanket and before eating it, say, "Do you think they'll give us seconds if we ask?"

"If not, you can just eat more of your Gramps' casserole."

"I'm starting to change my mind. I don't know if it's really that great anymore compared to this. "

She backhands me in the middle of my chest. "Don't be mean."

"It's just my stomach speaking."

Sierra smiles up at me as she chews, her cheeks rosy and I don't know if it's from the amusement, the amazing finger food, or the proximity to me. I hope the latter factors in at least a little.

"Sierra Fernandez? Is that you?"

We both turn to the voice of a stranger, and I feel Sierra take in a sharp breath that paralyzes her. I stay put in the act of taking a loaded piece of pretzel to my guzzler.

A blonde woman stands before us dressed in designer clothes I'm familiar with—expensive and tight. They were the kind of stuff I used to regularly gift to my ex for her birthday or anniversaries. It's like this woman goes to the same stylist, too, because her makeup, the artificial wave to her hair, and even the waft of perfume scream Nikki-look-alike.

There's a man next to her too, one of those corporate types who look bored being anywhere but outside of their office. I only know they're together because he keeps one hand attached to the blonde, while scrolling through his phone with the other one.

I don't have a lot of room for big movements, so I can only shift my eyes to Sierra. She's clenching her jaw hard enough that a muscle jumps, which immediately tells me this interaction isn't welcome.

"Brandy," Sierra spits back.

The other woman turns her attention to me. "How fascinating to see you here at all. Kyle and I are here for our wedding tasting—you do remember Kyle, right?"

"How can I forget? You two made my high school experience an unforgettable one." Sierra's lips stretch into a tight, humorless smile.

All at once I remember a conversation that feels simultaneously ten years ago, and also yesterday. Sierra mentioned that she had been bullied through school for being the janitor's daughter. I don't know if these two led the charge, but they certainly had a hand in making Sierra miserable.

Something lights up in my brain that activates my body before I can fully control it. One second I'm about to eat a morsel of food, and the next I'm nuzzling my nose behind Sierra's ear.

"I got you," I murmur softly against her ear.

Her body breaks into a shiver but she jerks her head into a nod and doesn't pull away. I do what I've been itching to do since we sat here: I rest my arm on Sierra's shoulders and bring her flush against me until she can feel how hard my heart slams in my ribcage. I place a hot, soft kiss under her earlobe and turn to the other woman.

"So, are you a friend of my Sierra?"

"Oh, um." She blinks fast. "I'm Brandy Jackson, the future Mrs. Kyle Montgomery. And you?" I ignore the hand she offers.

I tilt my head. "Still wondering about the answer to my question."

"I—I—" The woman gives an awkward laugh. "Yes, of course we're friends. We went to middle school and high school together."

"We're not friends," Sierra says with a deadpanned voice as she leans forward to pluck a churro from the plate. I'm close enough that I can see her hand shake slightly. "In fact, Brandy and Kyle here were the biggest bullies in school and they should feel ashamed at even showing their faces in front of me."

Damn. My chest swells with pride for her. Sierra doesn't really need me to play knight in shining armor when she herself is a shield and a sword all in one. I don't know why but I find that hotter than the chocolate steaming on the table .

The Kyle dude snorts and doesn't even look up to say, "Hey, babe. Can we just sit down? My feet are getting tired."

Just hearing his whiny voice is almost enough to ruin my appetite. It recovers quickly as the blonde stutters something and leads him to the booth next to ours.

I pull away slightly so I can face Sierra. She continues eating in silence for a moment until she meets my eyes. When she allows the silence to prolonge, I ask in as low a timbre as I can manage, "Are you okay?"

"Unsure," she admits with a shrug. "Can we hurry?"

"Say no more." I unleash my full hunger and polish my half of the food in the blink of an eye. Sierra's slower, but it seems like the brief encounter with her past tormentor has closed off her stomach and I end up eating the rest.

"Conor?" she asks after I'm done stuffing my face. "Would you please do me a favor now?"

"Anything."

She startles a bit at the vehemence of my answer, but recovers quickly. "Can you please keep pretending you're my boyfriend?"

"Sure." I lean closer to her so I can speak directly into her ear. "What kind do you want me to be? Whispering sweet nothings into your ear like this? Publicly handsy? Openly hostile to them?"

"Um, all of the above?" Her voice comes out like a squeak.

"Deal."

We get up from the booth and exchange a glance. We're doing this, all right.

I offer my hand to her and Sierra grabs it without hesitation. We march over to the counter to wait for the owner. His voice drifts over from the booth where the two shitty people are sitting, waiting for their little food. It could be just me but I feel laser beams on my back. Bullies hate it when someone else is the center of attention—I wouldn't be surprised if the real reason those two set their sights on younger Sierra was because she was smarter, cooler, and more beautiful. And I'm sure that at least the blonde woman is going to lose her shit seeing someone else prove this.

Letting go of Sierra's hand, I place mine on her opposite side, right at the curve of her waist and hip, and slowly travel it lower as I pull her flush against me. Sierra gasps and blinks up at me, but doesn't stop me as I move my hand lower around her, until I'm sliding my hand into her front pocket.

Her face is red like a streetlight, though.

"Um, good acting." She lowers her eyes.

It's not acting, though. If I really was her boyfriend, I'd be desperately seeking skin right this second.

"You might want to reciprocate for the audience," I murmur.

"You're right." Clearing her throat, Sierra twists in my embrace until she can free one arm. Next thing, her hand slides into my back pocket and gives my ass a little squeeze.

I'm proud to repot I manage to keep a moan in check. Somehow.

The caterer meets us at the counter, takes one look at how Sierra and I are suddenly fused to each other, and fortunately decides not to blow our cover. "So, how did you like it?"

I like it. Very much. I don't even want to drop the act.

"The food was even better than advertised," Sierra says smoothly, if a little throatier than usual. "No notes from me. What about you, Conor?"

"No, it was perfect. The eggnogs from earlier too," I manage to add at the last second. We sampled the drinks first since they contained alcohol, and I'm driving us back to the office after this.

"Fantastic, then we'll proceed with the order as we agreed."

After a few more pleasantries and handshakes, we head out of the store still touching. Her walk squeezes my hand slightly in the crease of her upper thigh and hip as she walks, and I'm pretty sure the palm of her hand has a perfect map of my gluteus maximus now.

At the door, I pause to glare over my shoulder and sure enough, the blonde woman is gaping at us like she's never seen a more shocking sight in her life. The man beside her is stuck in a conversation and if that's the level of attention he typically gives her, I figure she's already got the punishment she deserves.

It physically hurts to tear myself away from Sierra so we can jump in my truck. The silver lining is that since the walk was basically non-existing because we parked right out front, I didn't need to put on my jacket and the freezing air keeps my boiling blood in check.

Still, since Sierra is deathly quiet inside the truck, I ask, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." She props up her elbow on the window and glances out of it as I drive us out of the parking lot. "I'm just annoyed at myself that I had to drag you into it just so I could save face."

"Er, don't worry about me." Especially not when I enjoyed it so damn much, which actually makes me a complete douchebag. "I'm sorry, though. I feel like I took it too far."

"You didn't." She expels a big breath. "In fact, you saved me from leaping over that tiny table and pulling at her hair. How did you know exactly how to get her to back off?"

"I know her type. I dated one just like her." Sierra whips around to stare at me and I'm glad that traffic keeps my eyes off what no doubt is disgust on her face. "I know, I'm not exactly proud of myself."

"Huh. How did that even happen? That's not the kind of woman I'd picture for you."

It's just on the tip of my tongue to ask her who she imagines me with, and see if her answer matches mine. But this isn't the right time to feel her out. She's obviously hurting and eager to steer the conversation away from that.

I'm happy to oblige, even if it's at my expense.

"I was young and naive once," I say, wrinkling my whole face in distaste at myself. "This hot, blonde woman approached me—and not any other player—and I caved right away. Ignored all the red flags waving in my face like the shithead I was."

"Yikes."

"That's putting it mildly." I tap the steering wheel with my thumbs as I keep driving. "She dumped me right after the accident, when it was clear I'd never play again."

"Oh, wow. What a dirtbag. I'm so sorry, Conor."

"Me too, especially because Gramps could see all along what kind of vain creature I was dating." I clear my throat, embarrassed as hell. "Anyway, this Blondy or whatever reminded me of Nikki, and all Nikki ever cared about was showing off, so…"

"Well, thank you for thinking fast." She makes a pause and speaks quietly, "Although I'm really sorry you had a Brandy in your life, too."

We're stopped at a red light, so I turn to her. I lick my lips, bracing myself for what I'm about to say. "You know, I used to be real sour about her but this whole thing made me realize something."

"What's that?" Sierra blinks in confusion.

"That I can now recognize who's worth keeping around and who isn't." I search her face for any clues that she understands the meaning behind my words, but she gives me nothing. She could win a poker tournament on her expression alone.

I decide not to push it further. There are other ways to show her I'm going wild about her. I just need to have patience.