Filed to story: Can’t Get Enough Of You
When I looked up, I froze. Once again, I was caught in the gaze of Mr. Blue Eyes.
Nolan
Fuck, she was cute. Not just cute, smoldering hot, too. But something about the way she looked at me, the way her mouth perpetually looked like it wanted to curl into a smile, made me want to talk to her.
“Hi, Carey,” I said when she looked up at me, blinking like I was some kind of vision.
She glanced down at her name tag, which was where I’d found out her gorgeous name. Then she looked back up at me.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I… can I get you something? I think our kitchen is closed, but…” She looked over her shoulder at the kitchen. She was flustered, and that made her even more attractive.
And she was already a stunner, with red hair that hung over her shoulder in light curls, and big, round brown eyes that made me want to fall into them.
“Yeah,” I said. “Your number.”
She blinked at me. “What?”
“I’m a little forward,” I said. “Sorry about that. You’re just the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long, long time. And I can’t pass up the opportunity to spend some time with you.”
She blinked at me before her cheeks flushed.
“I’m not a thing,” she bristled.
I laughed. Oh, God. Feisty, too. She was the whole package.
“I just told you you’re beautiful, and all you heard was that I said thing?”
She shrugged. “I don’t like being treated like the help.”
I laughed again. “I wasn’t trying to treat you like the help. Poor choice of words. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a long, long time. Is that better?”
She bit her lip, then nodded shyly.
Shit. Already, she was driving me wild. I smiled.
“And I do want to spend some time with you. Would you like to have a drink with me?”
She hesitated.
“There’s still time before you close, right?” I asked.
“I’m not allowed to drink on the job,” she said.
“Who’s going to know?” I asked. “We’re the only ones left.”
When she looked around, she saw I was right. There weren’t any other patrons left. Everyone had gone home for the night. It was five minutes to twelve, and there was still time for her to pour another couple of beers.
She turned it over in her mind, I could see her thinking. And it was hot as hell.
“Okay,” she finally said.
I grinned at her. “Okay.”
She disappeared and a moment later, she returned with two beers.
We walked to the table where I’d sat with my college pal, Ray, and his girlfriend, Sonya.
“So, Carey,” I said when we sat down.
“Most people call me Izzy,” she said. “The name tag is formal.” She touched her fingers to the tag on her chest.
“Izzy.” Sassy. I liked it. “I’m Nolan.”
She smiled. “Hi, Nolan.”
I smiled at the sound of my name on her lips.
“So, Izzy, what do you do? Besides work here?”
“I’m a student,” she said. “Art major.”
I whistled through my teeth. “That’s impressive.”
“Is it?”
“For sure,” I said. She looked shy under the compliment.
I had a lot of respect for art students. It was a difficult career path-it was all about passion to them because most of them didn’t make it far in the art world. Making money from something like that, no matter how passionate you were about it, was hard.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I finished college last year. I’m just wrapping up an internship now.”
“So, what’s next for you, then?” she asked.
I took a swig of beer. “Business school.”