Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(27)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“What does he want from you, seriously?” Cat asked, urgently. “He could have sex with anyone.”

“Exactly,” I told her. “He could. That’s not what he wants. He wants a friend.”

“With benefits.”

Yes. But it was more complicated than that. I thought. I shot her a look that was meant to mean “behave” and glanced back to smile at him.

When he reached us, he put his hand on the back of my chair. “Hey, Tiff.” Then he turned and introduced himself to Cat and Heath, sticking his hand out to shake.

Heath stood up to meet the handshake firmly and I felt them sizing each other up in that way that guys do. I looked to Cat in amusement, but she was making a sour face at Devin. I could tell she was shocked by his appearance. She knew he was thirty, but I had reassured her he wasn’t anywhere near approaching creeper status. There were different kinds of thirty, though, and Devin didn’t have a boyish face. It was the kind of face that would have looked mature for his age even at fifteen. He didn’t have dimples or sparkling eyes or a boyish charm. He was all rough edges and hard angles. He was the boss. It was obvious.

After everyone had said hello, he glanced at the table in front of me. “You’re not drinking any coffee?”

I shook my head. I’d only brought five bucks and I’d already drank it in the form of a latte.

But Devin knew me well enough to see through that. “You’re a coffee junkie. What do you want? I’ll go get it.”

“I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes. Then asked Cat and Heath, “Do you need anything?”

They shook their head. “No, thanks,” Cat said.

He squeezed my shoulder and went to the register to order. I was blushing. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was just that Devin had been my secret until an hour ago. Having my friends meet him made my infatuation feel as foolish as they seemed to think it was.

I didn’t look like I belonged with him. I looked like the kid he was fostering in the Big Brother program, despite what Devin said. He saw me differently from everyone else.

“What are we supposed to say to him?” Cat whispered.

I shrugged. “Anything you want.”

“Can I ask him if he knows Beyoncé?”

“Very funny.”

“What?” She smirked at me. “He knows celebrities. Don’t tell me you haven’t asked that.”

“I haven’t. He has occasionally mentioned people in passing, but he uses their real names, like Sean and Stephanie and Lizzie, so I think I know who he’s talking about, but I’m not going to ask. It’s awkward.”

“It’s crazy, that’s what it is.” Cat shook her head. “I don’t know about this.”

“Having money isn’t a crime.” A glance over at the register showed Devin checking his phone while he waited for our drinks. It didn’t escape my attention that he hadn’t asked me what I wanted. I was curious if he’d get it right though.

“The way you’re looking at him…”

I looked back at Cat. She was frowning, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in love with him. Oh, my God.”

I was. I knew I was. I had been falling in love with him gradually since the second I’d met him. But it wasn’t relevant. Not yet. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

“Be careful,” she whispered urgently.

Shrugging, I told her, “I know what I’m doing.”

Devin pulled out the chair next to me and settled his long legs under the table. He handed me a cup with a smile. “Your caramel latte.”

“Thank you.” He’d gotten it right. He had noticed what I tended to make for myself with the Keurig at home. At Richfield. At his house. God. I was thinking of his house as my home.

Cat was right. I needed to be careful.

But he was so beautiful. So commanding. So intelligent.

I wondered if my face showed everything I was feeling.

Maybe I wanted it to. Maybe I wanted to nudge him past what he’d started in his studio.

It must have shown something because Devin’s smile evaporated. He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. Still looking at me, he said, “You don’t mind if I steal Tiffany for Christmas, do you?”

With major effort, I tore my gaze from his to look at my friends.

Cat looked horrified. Heath looked puzzled.

I knew exactly how they were feeling. They were my feelings too.

Devin chatted casually with my friends, asking Heath about his fishing boat, and Cat about her plans after college graduation. He didn’t name drop or talk about the city. He shared how he’d spent summers in Maine with his grandparents, and that’s why he’d decided to buy a house there as an adult. He wanted the same idyllic summer nights.

While he spoke, his hand drifted over to my knee, resting there on my jeans. He shifted his chair closer, spread his leg so it was touching mine, his body warm and hard through our respective denim pants. His fingers stroked my kneecap, then gradually began an ascent up my leg, my thigh, caressing the whole way, casually, intimately. It was normal for him to touch me, but not in public, and never quite as absently as he was. Like he was doing it without thinking. I didn’t get the feeling it was sexual in that he wanted to turn me on or get me off, though the first he was, and the second he might. It was more that he felt comfortable with me to the point it was natural.

A guy my age would have taken it too far. He would have stroked right up to the seam of my jeans below the zipper, or shifted my own hand onto his erection under the table. Devin didn’t do that. When he was perilously close to inappropriate, he retreated, giving my knee a final squeeze before removing his hand.

“Too bad I’m never here in the summer,” he said with a shrug and changed the subject to the possibility of a blizzard in the next few days.

I hardly spoke. I just listened and watched and felt.

If we were in a play, Devin was the director and I was the chorus girl. But at least I had a part.

Later on the drive back to Devin’s house, I got a text from Cat.

I’m not ok with this. He’s a Chester the Molester.

It blindsided me. Wow. She wasn’t holding back. I answered with a curt, “Why?”

You say all the time you look young. He’s too old for his interest to be anything but creeper.

What hurt was I knew she was right in that I looked young. But I also knew that Devin wasn’t attracted to me because of my appearance. He liked my mind, the way I stood up to him. The fact that when I spoke I didn’t ramble endlessly about stupid shit. It was complicated. Attraction wasn’t just about big tits.