Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,9

in her league, so the entire inferno scenario is solely in my pants. Izzy is one of those untouchable girls reserved for the cream of the crop of which I’m the bottom of the barrel. “You might live with your mother, but I work at a bar. The end.”

“What’s this?” Her eyes brighten the exact shade of a sunny afternoon, and my cock is back to begging to be let out to play. Sorry, boy, this is one girl who will most likely never roll out the red carpet for you. “Are you trying to crash my pity party?”

“Consider it busted.” I grab a glass and fill it with ice. “Any drink. It’s on me.”

“In that case, water.”

“How about wine?” I’d uncork a bottle of the best vintage I have in stock for Izzy.

“No thanks, I don’t really drink all that much. Sorry about the whiskey.” She bites down on her cotton candy pink lip, and my gut starts to liquefy. Holy crap. Now I see why the universe never has us together more than once a year. I’d be a dead man if given a few more run-ins.

“No drinking, huh? I have the power to change that if you like.” I’d rearrange the solar system for Izzy if she wanted.

“I’m good.” She gives a sideways smile, and my head tilts in line with it. Damn. I’ve always wondered why my brother acted like a complete idiot around his girlfriend, Baya, and now I know—it can’t be helped. When you find the one it’s simply a knee-jerk reaction. Only I’m not Izzy’s one, and that explains why she’s looking at me like I’m some sort of bartending psychopath. “Anyway, I usually never touch the stuff, unless, of course, it’s a special occasion, and, even then, I’m stuck on whiskey.” She nods back to the table that holds her abandoned drink.

“Whiskey can be a tough place to start.” It takes everything in me not to dive across the counter and shove my face in her neck just to see if she smells as good as I remember—sugar and spice and everything very very nice.

“Yeah, my dad—it was his signature drink. Most men prefer beer but not my father.” She glances down at the counter and traces out a figure eight. “So what’s new with you? Heard you just graduated. Your brother is getting hitched soon. Where’s your significant other? She around?” Izzy pans the facility with those glowing eyes, and it makes my balls ache. All right, so my balls ache for her regardless, and it forces me to defer to my favorite lifelong mantra when I’m around her—just breathe—because, holy hell, Izzy Sawyer is beautiful. That’s exactly what I used to remind myself each time I dropped Annie off and picked her up—breathe. If there’s one woman who can take my breath away each and every time, it’s Izzy. Always has been, always will.

Bryson nods to me from the far end of the bar as he picks up my slack.

“No significant other here.” I try not to infer some underlying motive. The last thing I want to do is hit on Izzy as if she were just another barfly. “So I heard Laney.” I try not to come across as an ass for listening in. “Sounds like you’re about to hit the ground running.”

“Ha!” She belts out a short-lived laugh. “As in running in the other direction. I doubt my Mr. Right is lurking in the mess she’s about to sling my way.”

I slide a glass of water to her, and she’s quick to play with the straw. Her long, perfect fingers coil over the tip, each nail painted a bright cherry red. For a second I imagine plunging each one into my mouth, sucking her down before biting the tips ever so gently.

“Holt?” She catches my gaze.

“Yeah.” Crap. Way to let her know you care.

“See? I can’t even hold your attention. I’m about as exciting as watching paint dry. Anyway”—she hops down, and my heart breaks as she steps away from the bar—“I’m out of practice. I wouldn’t even know what to say to someone.”

“I can help with that.” My heart rattles around in my chest unsure of what the hell I’m about to say next. “And, I promise, you’re anything but boring. Any guy would be lucky to have you.” Especially this one.

She shakes her head without thinking twice. “Trust me, I’m a charity case you want nothing to do with.”

“Come by tomorrow night at seven, and I’ll