face, and kissed her full on the lips. Once. Just enough for her to flinch. And just enough for him not to get lost in her. Then he broke their contact to be greeted with her mouth gaped and her surprise-filled blue eyes on him.
“Come on, Blondie. We have places to be and places to go. Can’t stay here kissing all day,” Julian teased and then gave her wink.
When he had made his way to Noel, Julian grasped the handle of Clara’s suitcase and looked at his best friend to see an eyebrow cocked.
“Bold move,” he pointed out.
Julian grinned and looked Noel straight in the eye. “Gotta have to be. She’s my all-in.”
Not sure if I’m drowning or I’ve stopped breathing.
Or both.
Julian kissed me.
In front of Noel.
Literally kissed me.
“Blondie, wanna get out of line?”
Stevie slowly blinked and realised that she was no longer staring at a suitcase but instead at the crotch region of Julian’s jeans.
“Merde!” she cursed.
“What does that mean?” he asked humorously.
She snapped her gaze from that to his smug grin. She hated and loved that stupid grin. She loved the way it made her heart flutter. And definitely hated the way it made her stomach fill with butterflies.
When she huffed, Julian laughed and then ducked under the retractable belt of the line that led to the Qantas check-in counter.
“No reason for you to wait in line, Stevie. Why don’t you guys go wait at PJ’s before our folks arrive,” Noel suggested.
Stevie gazed from Noel to Clara. The ride from the apartment to the airport had been silent. Stevie and Julian had stood by the bench while the married couple quietly spoke. In the end, Clara had shaken her head, kissed her husband, and then got in the car. The tension had been so thick that her issues with Julian seemed childish in comparison.
“You sure?” she asked Clara rather than Noel.
Clara nodded and smiled. But that upward turn of her lips hadn’t reached her eyes. Something had happened. And Stevie would hunt Liam down. Sure, she had promised Clara that she would look out for him, but if he had hurt her or jeopardised their marriage, Stevie would burst into his apartment with guns blazing.
“Come on, Blondie. Let’s get the merde out of here.”
She snapped her gaze from the acting-out-of-character couple and stared at Julian. “You just said, ‘let’s get the shit out of here,’” she pointed out.
A large and very proud grin sprawled across his face. “Seems fitting.”
“Please, Noel. Please don’t be so upset with me,” Clara softly cried.
“What am I meant to say, baby? I’m fucking thrilled? I’m not. You’re married to me. And you’re making me feel guilty that I am right now,” Noel replied in an angry whisper.
The moment Stevie heard the hurt in Noel’s voice, she ducked under the line belt and quickly made her way to PJ’s Irish Pub. She hadn’t wanted to turn around. Whatever it was, she had to let them figure it out. They were married now. It was up to them to solve the problems that life threw at them.
“When I find out what her ex-fiancé did, I’m goin—”
She paused just short of the entry to PJ’s, interrupting him. “You’re not going to do anything because I’m going to kick his ass!”
“You’re so adorable being all mad and shit.” Julian chuckled. Then he took her left hand and turned her to face him. Eyes as light blue as his shouldn’t exist. She had never seen that colour before. Not even in his brother’s eyes.
Stevie smiled and threaded her fingers through his. When they had left the Qantas line, Noel and Clara were towards the back. She figured they had some time to spare. With a small tug, she led him into PJ’s and headed for a table towards the back. The moment he sat down, Stevie stood between his legs, cupped his face, and searched those light blues. She wanted to know every thought he had made since her. She wanted forgiveness. She wanted him to let her go and to keep her. She wanted so much that it wasn’t fair for him.
“We’re in a shitload of trouble,” she whispered and then brushed the pad of her thumbs across his cheeks.
The expression on his face softened as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and brought her closer to him. “I think it’s more like we’re in a merde load of trouble.”
Any French word that passed those lips made her weak. Turned her on. Made her heart ache.