11. Ready Now?

CHAPTER 11

READY NOW?

MISTY

The backlash was quick. The bride and groom wasted no time calling to complain to the director of my improv group about me. I thought for sure I'd be fired; instead they gave me two weeks off without pay and told me to think long and hard about whether I want to come back.

As I'm on a mini vacation from work, I guess I will think and use this time wisely. Which is why I wait in the lobby of Nana's building for the elevator to arrive. She has my sewing machine and mannequin, so I hold a bag of green and purple spandex and other things to start designing my Dolly Danger costume tonight. I'll work on my Comic-con idea for starting my own business and think about what I want in life.

When there's a chorus of Sebastian's name called out by the women in the common room, I spot him crossing the lobby in a hurry.

"Sorry, ladies. I have to get home tonight. I'll visit again another time," he says, although one woman gets in his path attempting to stop him, anyway.

The doors finally open. I step into the elevator and then turn to see him rushing toward me.

"Hold the elevator," he calls.

I fumble around for the right button and don't find it. But he shuffles in through the closing doors just in time, almost dropping a few books in his arms.

"Hi."

"Hello." I push the tenth floor button. The elevator starts its ascent.

"Are you here to see Edith—or me, Sweet Pea?" He winks and faces me.

A lazy grin spreads across my lips, and I face him, too. Why not? After the wedding this weekend, I've come to realize that I think about him way more than I should. There might be something good and interesting brewing between me and the Ass Man. Having had my breakdown and let everything else go, I'm interested in new beginnings.

"Nana's helping me make a costume for the next Comic-Con."

"What do you mean, make one?"

"I majored in costume design in college but never really put it to use for a career yet. It's difficult breaking into film or theatre here in L.A. where everyone else is trying as well." I bring a shoulder to my ear knowing there are other reasons, like wasted time in Canada, but it's too soon to tell him about that. "I thought if I make the coolest cosplay outfit I could roam the Comic-Con and hand out cards, like a designer for hire kind of thing."

"No way. Who will you be?—"

Suddenly, the car lurches to a stop. He drops his books, and I stumble against him, dropping my bag. My hands land on his hard pecs, like steel beneath my palms, while his land at my waist. My breath hitches at the nearness of him, and my head falls back, peering up into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his pink tongue darting out between his full lips, licking them.

I nod and he lets me go once he's sure I'm steady on my own two feet. He kneels down to eye the service box in the wall beneath the floor number buttons. It takes some doing, but the latch finally opens and he picks up the red phone inside.

He handles this minor emergency in stride, taking control, admirably. A minute later, I gather from his discussion with whoever was on the other end of that call that the news isn't good.

"It might be some time before they can get someone here for repairs," he relays once the call has ended, and he hangs up the red phone. "You're not claustrophobic or anything, are you?"

"No, but I worry about Nana. She's expecting me." She's a clock watcher like that, and a minute late, she'll be calling to make sure I haven't gotten into an accident or something. I check my phone. "Shoot. The service is weak here in the elevator. I have no bars on my phone to be able to reach her."

"Me either." He pockets his phone and must sense my worry. "Hey, she'll be okay."

He's tall enough to reach the ceiling, pressing along the tiles. "By my estimate, we're probably around the eighth floor. If there's an access panel here, we could crawl out and take the ladder up to the tenth?—"

"I'm not doing that." Besides, I'm wearing a cotton dress with a thong underneath and sandals. Climbing up an elevator shaft doesn't appeal.

He stacks his books and I can't tell what the titles are, then he helps gather the contents of my bag. I stuff the yards of green and purple material in it. The last item he retrieves from the floor is a magazine of Dolly Danger, my inspiration for the costume.

"Damn. I haven't read one of these comics in forever. Used to be my favorite," he says, flipping through it before handing it back. His lips twitch. "You're dressing up as Sneed the Villain?"

I chuckle at his attempt at humor. "I don't think I have the thick thighs and bulging muscles to pull that off. But I'll make a great Dolly Danger. You, on the other hand, would make a perfect Sneed." I drift my eyes down his body and back up.

"Oh yeah? Do you need a partner in crime to play dress up with you?"

"Actually, it's funny you ask, because I thought going as a pair would call more attention to me. If I find the right guy for the job." I tell him more about my plan, not knowing what to expect. We just met recently. It's not like he owes me any favors. To my surprise, he's all for the idea. Encouraging even.

"Make me a costume and I'll do the comic-con with you. I'd make a damn good Sneed, don't you think? Besides, I already have experience. I think I begged Grandma to buy me a Sneed costume in grade school two years in a row." He laughs, tossing in the famous villain's pose at the end.

This is the best news of the day, and the boost I needed. My confidence spikes, adrenaline soaring through my veins like I'm waking up from a long nap induced by too many desperate and pathetic months in Canada. I truly believe this could work.

"That would be amazing. I'll pay you for your time with me at the conference."

"No way. No payment needed—or you could pay me in more of Edith's cookies." He chuckles and takes a seat on the floor, leaning his back against one wall. His hand pats the space next to him while he casts me a smoldering look. Do I dare?

"Deal. I'll even bake them myself."

"You bake, too?" He licks his lips again.

"Taught by Edith. She's the best."

"She is. Come on, sit down. We'll be here a while. I don't bite."

I finally do, and I eye his long legs sticking out almost to the other wall of the small compartment. Sturdy limbs like that turn me on. Weird, I know. Everyone has their thing. Asses, muscle-clad legs, and apparently nice men with them seem to be my latest.

My traitorous lips curve into a sly smile. "Thanks for the dance lesson, by the way. It paid off at the wedding and was the most fun I've had in a long time." Although I nursed a hellish hangover the next morning, and have plenty of regret for drinking too much, but I don't share that.

"Did you tell your date I said hello?" He smirks. I decide right then to admit the truth. It's a new me today, so I'm trying to embrace his friendliness and be less skeptical of him despite our interesting beginnings that Anastasia calls the meet cute of the century.

"Yeah, listen. There was no date. I go to weddings and funerals because I'm hired to go," I say.

"Come again?" His head cocks, side-eying me.

"Not everyone has someone, so they hire people from my improv group. We pose as relatives or friends."

"This is real thing?"

"Mm-hmm. I've been doing it for the past year since I moved back from Canada."

"What were you doing up north?"

My face freezes because this went a little further than I was willing to share, but it's out there now. As if he senses my trepidation, he nudges me with his elbow.

"Hey. Who hurt you?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Because I can tell you're guarded." Today, he's not wearing his glasses, so the blue irises stand out, aided by the light blue t-shirt he's wearing. They draw me in with his sincerity; or else this is quite the act he's perfected, this entire nice guy demeanor. God, I hate being this jaded still.

"Fine. I have an ex that did me wrong." I realize I could use this to my advantage. "But I'll only share the details if you tell me exactly how you ended up naked in the hallway that day we first met. What did those sweet old ladies do to you?"

He pinches his nose between a thumb and forefinger. "Please do not make me relive that most embarrassing moment."

"Why not?" I tease. "A day hasn't passed where I don't see a replay of that entire incident with your fine body in my head."

The cocky mug on his face right now intoxicates me. "It is pretty fine, isn't it?"

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Too late. It already has. Remind me to thank the ladies downstairs for putting me in that awkward position so that you could see it. But back to your ex. Am I right in thinking he's a real douche canoe?"

I snort at that, and whatever it means, it describes Gregor well. "Douche canoe," I repeat and giggle. "If that means asshole, then yes."

Sebastian leans in, his lips brushing along my earlobe, lightly sucking and nipping, catching me off guard. I forget to breathe. Tingles run from his point of contact down to my chest, hardening my nipples. He finishes with the sweetest kiss on my cheek before he moves away.

"What was that for?" I can hardly find my voice and even then, just a croak.

"You look like a woman who needs a good man to kiss her senseless. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong. I'll prove I'm right."

This guy has me flustered, heated, wanting more. Maybe this is the new me. It's a new day and hello world, because I turn into him fully, nuzzling his neck in return, while climbing onto his lap.

"Well, fuck, Misty. We may have started slowly, but I think you're catching up fast." He groans, his hands landing on my hips, squeezing my flesh.

I brush my cheek along his stubble, running soft patterns with my fingertips down his hard pecs and abs. He's too covered for my tastes. "A man like you should be naked all the time. Like one hundred percent. No shirts required."

"Yeah?" He reaches up behind his neck and removes the shirt overhead, tossing it aside. "How's this?"

I'm giddy, wiggling my fingers and eyeing his abs like candy. He growls and flexes as I resume my path, my eyes following my hands, memorizing every hard ridge under his tanned skin. "You're gorgeous."

"Same to you." He brings a hand behind my neck and pulls me closer to him until our lips are hovering over each other, our breaths mingling. On my pulse point, his thumb feathers across, as if testing his effect on me. The racing pace of my heartbeat should be a key indicator of how he's turning me on. He's into me, too; the steel rod in his pants acts as proof.

I grind against him, satisfying my greedy clit; I can't help it. For far too long, I've been without decent male attention. I crave it with him. His other hand slides up my thigh, under my dress, fingers lingering at my pantyline, getting me hotter. And we haven't even let our lips touch yet. My chest heaves in anticipation.

"Are you ready for that kiss now, Sweet Pea? I promise I'll treat you so good," he groans, shifting his hips to meet mine.

Am I? Hell, yes.