Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,6
in front of me and opens it before I can get to it.
“Thank you,” I offer as I step onto the expansive front porch complete with hanging ferns. Breathing in the cut grass and coolness to the evening air, I look up at the colorful sky. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t notice until now.”
The gravel in his voice snaps my attention to him without me even realizing it. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of Holt Mason as he peers down at me. His irises flicker, greens and golds swirling together in a heady mix of something I don’t want to name.
Passing a hot swallow down my throat, I re-grip the file in my hands. “Look at you, being all charming.”
“It’s one of my many talents.”
“Your confidence is underwhelming,” I tease.
“There’s nothing wrong with confidence if you can back it up.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” He grins. “It becomes a problem when people tout their abilities and have nothing to fall back on.”
I ignore the look in his eyes and, instead, pretend to ponder his declaration. “The flaw in that logic is in the definitions. Meaning, what if someone truly believes they’re amazing at something, and the other person finds them to be lackluster. Is that confidence wrong?”
“Not if they believe it,” he banters back. “It’s their truth.”
“Fair enough.”
The air flutters around us, almost dancing a private show for our benefit. Crickets sing in the distance; stars begin to shine in the early evening sky. It’s as if the world flipped a switch for this moment. If I believed in gooey girlish things, I’d be delighted. Too bad I’m more realistic than that.
I clear my throat and turn toward my rental car.
“Again, nice to see you, Holt …”
“Quit it.” He sighs, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my cheek.
The connection roots me in place.
His fingertips lightly brush my skin. They’re warm and slightly calloused in a way that makes my thighs ache.
“Let’s go to dinner,” he says.
“I already have a reservation.”
“For one?”
“For dinner,” I say with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I wait for him to move out of my way, but he doesn’t. He just stands in front of me and flashes a shit-eating grin my way.
“I’ll take you to the best restaurant in Savannah,” he tells me. “You’ll love it.”
“Why do men always think they know what a woman wants? It’s annoying, not to mention arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogant if I’m right.”
This should turn me off. This should be a blazing, flashing red light to dress him down, put him in his place, and be on my way. It’s what I do to every other guy who thinks he’s something I can’t live without. But I don’t. Or I can’t. I don’t know which, and I can’t even spare the mental capacity to sort it out because every synapse is firing just for him.
There’s a look in his eye, something behind the brazen façade, that intrigues me. I haven’t given a man more than a dirty look in longer than I can remember. Who has the time? Who has the energy? Who wants to deal with that bullshit?
But as I stand on the porch of this beautiful home in the middle of a perfect Southern evening, I remember Sienna’s instruction to enjoy my vacation.
“You don’t know enough about me to be right,” I volley back, continuing the banter because I can’t help myself.
“I disagree.” He shifts his weight, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ll tell you three things about you besides the obvious. If I’m right, you’ll go to dinner with me.”
I think this over. I didn’t tell him anything about me, not even my name. So, there’s no way he can actually come up with one thing, let alone three, that’s deep enough to warrant a dinner date.
If nothing else, it’ll be a fun little experiment and a chance for me to prove that men don’t know everything.
“Fine,” I say. “But you have to impress me. Hair color, eye color—those types of things don’t count.”
He grins. “Absolutely not. There’s no fun in that.”
“All right. Shoot.”
“Your name is Blaire,” he says, catching me off guard. “You like gummy bears but feel like it’s a childish thing to enjoy, so you try to be discreet about your obsession. You prefer the red ones and hate the green ones. You like shopping but hate spending loads of money on things you think are a waste.”
My jaw almost hits the floor.
“And,” he says, taking a