He chuckles fondly at the memory. “Ah, good times.”
I pointedly ignore that. “So Nathan. You gonna give him a call?”
“And say what? Hey, guy I've only ever met once before. We don't know each other but do you want to show my art in your gallery?”
I shrug, because it's not like I know how the process goes or anything. Jeez Louise. “Nathan's pretty cool. I just think it wouldn't hurt to give him a call, is all. I can get his number from Silver for you. If you don't do it, I will.”
He smiles sweetly over at me, a strange look on his face.
“What?” I want to know.
“Just. . .” He shakes his head. “. . .you hate me, yet you still get excited over the idea of me following my dreams. I just think you're incredible, that's all.”
Despite the cold night, my cheeks warm considerably at the compliment. Nice Walt is harder to handle than asshole Walt on so many levels. “I don't hate you.”
“You don't?” He raises a disbelieving eyebrow.
“Fine,” I admit. “The other Walt – the one who calls me mean names and steals my underwear – maybe a little. But the Walt who's sweet to me and takes me to dinner at his grandparents' house and punches a guy in my honor – that Walt I definitely do not hate.”
His eyes light up like I've just made all his dreams come true. I don't know how to handle an expression like that. “Well that's. . .good to know.”
“I like this side of you,” I tell him softly. “It's new. I feel like most people don't get to see it often, which is just a damned fine shame.”
He glances down at my lips, and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me again. And in that moment I realize I'd probably let him. But instead he quickly sits up and slides off the car. He bows dramatically in front of me and holds out a hand for me to take. “Milady.”
Pursing my lips in amusement, I take his outstretched hand and let him help me off the hood. Without a word, he reaches into the car to steal my iPod from my purse, and a second later What's Up by 4 Non Blondes comes on over the speakers. I grin, because this is my favorite song and I had no idea he even knew that.
“What are you doing?” I demand, laughing.
“Asking you to dance.” He holds out his hand to me again.
Unable to hold in my smile, I take it, and Walt pulls me out into the overgrown grass. The long blades are damp and they brush against my legs, soaking my cold feet and calves, but in this moment there's no place else in the whole world I'd rather be.
We sway to the music, grinning uncontrollably at each other. Walt spins me around and out, then pulls me back to his chest as he laughs. The tall grass doesn't exactly make an ideal dance floor so mostly we just sway, but I like the way he holds me close against his hard body.
This is. . .perfect. Too perfect.
Suddenly I can take it no longer. I drop his hands like they're on fire and step back, ignoring the hurt on his face.
“Ibbie, what-”
“Shut your face hole for a minute. Just. . .what the eff, man?” I demand. “What was that kiss about?” Waving my arms around me at the field and the car and the music, I add, “What is this about?”
“I. . .” His mouth opens and closes as he fights internally for what he wants to say. He runs a hand through his neatly combed hair, spiking it up again. That little bit of familiarity is oddly reassuring. “Can we sit again?”
I nod and follow him back onto the hood. We sit at the edge this time, our legs dangling over. Walt is so close to me that our thighs and knees press tightly together and I don't find myself moving away. The heat coming off of him seems to seep into my skin; it feels incredible. One of his hands come up to cup my cheek and he turns my face, making me look at him.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks huskily. “Before we talk?”
Obviously I should say no, because if I let him kiss me again then I'm not going to be able to put two coherent thoughts together and that would be bad, as none of this is making sense as it is. But instead of being a sensible girl, I find myself tilting my face up to meet his and parting my lips. He takes my mouth softly this time, savoring me. His teeth graze my bottom lip as he pays that one attention first, and then my top lip. He kisses my chin, my cheeks, and then my lips once more.
Our kiss quickly heats up until we're practically lipbanging as we try to get more of each other. Walt presses forward and soon we're laying down again. Like a wanton hussy, I hitch my leg over one of his, gasping into his mouth when he grips my thigh with his strong hand. I kiss a path down his cheek and chin, wanting desperately to feel the skin of his neck with my mouth to find out if it tastes just as good as it smells. It does. His stubble scratches at my skin in a way that makes my whole body break out into goosebumps and sends sparks of pleasure shooting throughout my entire being. Oh man, how did I ever dislike his stubble? His stubble is the best thing ever. A soft moan escapes from the back of his throat when I kiss his neck, his hot breath brushing over my skin. He grabs my face between his hands, crushing my lips back onto his.
I could just kiss this man for hours and hours and never get tired of it.
There's not a sliver of confusion in his eyes when he pulls back to look at me this time, none at all. Clearly he's not experiencing a complete and utter mental breakdown like I am.
“It shouldn't have taken seeing you with my brother for me to work up the courage to do that,” he murmurs, pressing my swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “I've been such a fucking coward.”
“Whuh. . .” His kisses have successfully robbed me of my voice. Is he saying that he likes me? That he's liked me since before I dated his brother?
“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to stop talking then I might've tried that the first time we met,” he teases.
But I'm in no mood for jokes. “Walt. . .”
“I want you to give me a chance.” He squeezes his eyes shut as if it's too hard to look at me as he says it. “Fuck that. I need you to give me a chance. I need to prove to you that I'm not the asshole you think I am.”
My heart pounds. “A chance for what?”
“For us,” he replies simply, and my mouth drops open.
“You want to. . .to be with me?”
His eyes snap open, filled with a new determination. “Not right now, okay? Not tonight. I'm gonna give you a month, Ibbie. Not because I think it'll take you that long to get over my schmuck of a bother, but because I want him so far gone outta that head of yours that you barely even remember his name. So a month.”
“And then what?” I almost hesitate to ask.
His dark eyes seem to penetrate right to my very soul. “And then I'm coming for you, Isabel Ibbot. I'm coming full force, and I'm going to win you over. Then I promise I'll never, ever lose you.”
I blink. My mouth gapes open and closed like a fish. This was not how I expected tonight to go. There are a thousand things I could say right now. A million. There are a thousand things I want to ask, to demand an explanation for. But once again I've been shocked into silence and the only thing that comes out of my mouth is a pitiful, “Oh.”
Walt leans closer and kisses me once more. This time it's a closed mouth kiss. It's soft, sweet, yet spine tingling. Then he rolls off the hood and lifts me down.
Neither of us speak a single word as we climb inside the car. Neither of us speak a single word as he shuts off the music and starts up. Neither of us speak a single word as he pulls out of the field and we make the drive home. And then neither of us speak a single word when he drops me off at my apartment an hour later. I guess that's just how we roll.
Chapter 9
Ibbie
I TRY TO get on with my life over the next couple of days but everything I do feels robotic, forced. My evening with Walt replays over and over in my mind to the point where concentrating on anything else proves to be impossible. The kiss, the different side to him, the dance, the kiss. Oh man, the kiss.