On His Knees Page 9

  I hurry back outside, the wind cooler on my ears with my hair cut. I glance around, and take in all the festivities. Honestly, I’ve been working so hard lately, setting up my practice, I forgot what fun was anymore. I miss coming here. Hell, I miss having fun. Granddad told me that on numerous occasions. He worked hard, but he played hard, too. But I work hard because I want him to be proud of me, want to make something of myself, on my own merit. Seriously though, how many times has he told me I need to find myself a nice girl? I scoff. I would if I could, but there just aren’t any out there that I trust.

  Summer is a nice girl.

  Jesus Christ, Tate, get your head on right. You don’t really know her at all.

  I pull open the door to the bar, and there is already a lineup for the kissing booth. Goddammit, do I really have to do this? Then again, the money raised from the kissing booth goes to help the local children’s hospital.

  I peel off my jacket and wave to Henry to let him know I’m here. I find Luca in the back room, taking a break.

  “Can you believe we’re being guilt-tripped into doing this kissing booth?” I ask, looking over at my new friend. There is something about him that reminds me of me. Is he, too, playing a part, disguising himself as something he’s not? If so, why?

  “All for a good cause.”

  “Where in Italy are you from?” I ask.

  He looks down, grief ripping through his face before he scrubs his jaw and says, “Massara.”

  “What brings you here?”

  He grins. “The great weather.”

  I laugh. Okay, so he’s not going to tell me. “Yeah, same here,” I say.

  I head back to the bar and take my first order. I twist a cap off a beer and slide it across the counter, then take the guy’s money. I turn my attention to the next customer, hoping Henry will forget all about the kissing booth, but no such luck. He taps me on the shoulder, and he grins at me, like he’s enjoying this way too much. But it’s the least I can do for him, right? He’s helping me out, and I should be helping him out in return.

  “Nice cut,” he says, a little breathless, his skin paler than it was earlier. He jerks his chin up. “Now go. You got an hour shift.”

  “What about you?”

  “Hell no. No one wants to kiss an old coot like me, and besides the wife would kill me. Now go.”

  “Shit,” I mumble under my breath, and untie my bar apron. I slap it on the counter and head across the room. A familiar scent wraps around me and I turn to find Summer sneaking up behind me.

  I grin at her and I don’t want to think too much about how happy I am to see her. “Were you going to lift me up, spin me around?”

  Her eyes go wide when she sees my haircut. “Tate, what did you do?” she asks.

  I rake my hand through my short hair, scrub my palm over it. “Not good?”

  “No, it’s perfect. I actually really like your hair like this.”

  “It’s usually how I wear it, just got busy.”

  She goes up on her toes and runs her fingers over my head. “A little less for me to grab on to, but I’ll make do,” she teases.

  “Fuck, Summer. You can’t say things like that to me. Well, you can, just not when I can’t get you naked,” I finish quietly. She laughs and I get how much she loves it when I unleash on her. “I have to work the booth.”

  She crinkles her cute little nose and I resist the urge to kiss her. “No way.”

  “Yeah, no choice.” I point to the others behind the bar, as Henry starts organizing the event. “We’re all taking a turn.”

  Something flashes in her eyes but it’s gone before I can identify it. She looks away, studies the string of women gearing up for their turn to kiss me as Henry herds them into a straight line “Such a hardship to kiss all those pretty girls,” she says, her voice low, soft, and I can’t tell whether she’s teasing or not.

  I cup her chin. “The only pretty girl I want to kiss is you, and I’m going to prove that to you tonight, over and over.”

  She laughs and puts her hand on my chest and from my peripheral vision, I catch the way Jaquelin is glaring at Summer. I don’t like it. Not one little bit.

  “Well, I’ll let you get to your duties, then.”

  She backs away and grabs a table with her friends, but then I lose sight of her when I take my seat in the booth.

  Soon enough I’m lost in a sea of lips—quick, efficient kisses that mean nothing and do nothing to me. I check my watch. Only a half an hour of my one-hour slot has gone by, but for some reason it feels like an eternity. I shove all the five-dollar bills as well as all the phone and room numbers into the cash box beside me and lift my head ready to kiss the next girl.

  I shift in the booth, as Summer takes the chair opposite me.

  “What are you doing, Summer?”

  “Well, this is to raise funds for the children’s hospital, is it not?”

  I look over her shoulder at the long line of women, some I might have even taken to my bed in the past, but now... I can’t seem to think about anyone but Summer, and that is fucked up.

  “It is.”

  “Then I want to do my part.” She puts ten dollars on the table.

  “It’s only five.”

  “I want to make a donation.”

  “The thing is, Summer. If I start kissing you, I’m going to get a major hard-on and have to get out of here.”

  “Well if that’s the case, and you can’t provide these ladies with what they want, I’ll make a big donation in their names. Say...” She turns, does a quick tally of the women in line, then says, “Two hundred.”

  “Seriously?”

  She wants to donate toward the cause? Once again, Summer takes me by surprise.

  “I don’t think—”

  “I do,” she says, and leans into me. Her soft lips hover over mine, and I breathe her in, smell cinnamon on her breath. All I can say is I’m glad I’m behind a booth, because my dick is thickening, eager to get back inside her as she slides her tongue into my mouth, and kisses me with unchecked heat. The crowd behind her goes crazy, and when we break apart, there is a little blush on her cheeks. I gesture to Luca.

  “Hey, man, you’re going to have to take over here for me.”

  Tray in hand, Luca laughs as he saunters over, and the women don’t seem too displeased. He’s a good-looking guy, so why would they? I snatch the tray from him and put it over my crotch. He laughs louder, and drops into my chair.

  “Henry, do you need me, or can I take off?”

  He waves me away. “Go.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and slide my hand around Summer’s waist. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Want to get out of here?”

  She nods, and I follow her to her table. “Do you ladies mind if I steal Summer away for a few hours?”

  “Hours?” Amber says. “Now I’m officially jealous.”

  I laugh as Summer shakes her head at her friend—I’m getting used to Amber’s antics. You’re not supposed to get used to any of this.

  I’m about to turn away when Ambers asks, “Do you have any brothers, cousins, just hanging around this place?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I say, and Summer picks up a big bag from the floor before I lead her outside.

  “Did you buy everything in town?”

  She laughs. “No, I’m not you. But I do have a surprise.”

  “I like surprises.”

  “I know you do,” she says, and when her eyes dim with desire, I’m guessing she’s thinking about the stockroom rendezvous. That was one hell of a surprise, and I’d like a repeat. “But I’m not so sure you’re going to like this one,” she says, and frowns.

  I stop walking. Jesus, is she finally going to confess, tell me she’s been conning James Carson?
“What is it?” I ask, all humor gone from my voice.

  She stiffens and glances up at me. “It’s okay, Tate. It’s nothing bad.”

  I relax, and I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or glad that she didn’t confess. “What did you think I was going to say anyway?”

  I open my mouth, not knowing how to answer, when a child lets loose a howl of a scream.

  “What the hell?” I say. I glance over to the skating rink, where a young boy is lying on the ice and still wailing, one leg bent out severely at an awkward angle. The next thing I know Summer shoves the bag into my chest and darts toward the ice faster than I would have thought possible in her big winter boots. I grip the handle on the brown bag and follow Summer, find her down on her knees assessing the boy, checking his neck and leg for injuries before she’ll let him move. She takes off her mitts and gingerly examines his leg, checking where it hurts. Maybe I should run back to the bar and get her friend Cara. She should be able to help. Or I could go to the resort’s clinic, but Cara is closer. As I consider that, a crowd forms, and I lose sight of Summer. I stand back, debating on what to do, when the crowd opens up. I spot Summer talking to a man, likely the child’s father, since he has the boy in his arms. Her nervous glance flickers to mine, and I angle my head and watch her.

  As they come toward me, I hear her say, “I think it’s just strained, not broken. But I’d still take him to the resort’s clinic for X-rays just to make sure there’s no hairline fracture or anything.”

  The father thanks her profusely, as the preteen boy wipes tears from his face. “Thank you,” he says, and the two head along the path.

  “What’s going on?”

  She hesitates for a second. “I just reacted.”

  “I’d say.” I take in the flush on her face, the worry in her eyes. It’s kind of nice that she jumped in to help like that. Most people, especially back in New York, are reluctant to get involved, but not Summer. She ran like she was being chased by the Devil himself. This woman confuses the hell out of me. “I thought about going to get Cara.”

  “That would have been a good idea, but I think the boy just strained his muscles.”

  I nudge her. “Oh, you’re a doctor now, are you?” I tease. If she were a doctor she would have told me that, right?

  “I just...” She pauses for a second. “My dad was a construction worker. He injured himself a lot on the job. They didn’t have strict safety measures in place back in his day.” Then, almost to herself, she says, “God, it’s a wonder the job didn’t take him out.”

  “Your dad, he’s gone?” I ask quietly.

  She nods, but I don’t miss the water in her eyes as she looks off in the distance, her blurred gaze scanning the mountains. She seems to be a million miles away. I want to ask about her mom, but I’m not sure now is the time.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear it, and smiles up at me, but this time there is no light in her eyes. “Anyway, I know a broken bone when I see one.” She redirects and points to the bag I’m holding. “About that surprise.”

  I inch the bag open, hoping to find some sexy lingerie, but what I see instead shocks me. “No way, Summer. Not in a million years.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tate

  “OH, COME ON, TATE, don’t be a big baby.” She takes the costume from me and shakes it out so I can get a better look at it.

  I back up and hold my hands out. “A big baby? How does refusing to put on a ridiculous donkey outfit make me a baby?”

  She rolls her eyes at me and somehow makes it look sexy. “It just does.”

  “I’m not doing it, Summer. Not in a million years or for a million dollars.”

  “I don’t have either of those, but there is something else I can give you.” She steps into me, goes up on her toes and her chilled lips meet mine. She kisses me softly, and our lips create both heat and friction. Forgetting where I am, I slide my hand around her back and drag her to me. We kiss like there is no one in the world but us. In the distance a child’s laughter drags me back to my senses. I pull away, and her eyes are slightly closed, dreamy as she stands there, lips still poised. So fucking gorgeous.

  “Are you bribing me with sex?” I ask.

  A small smile curls up the corners of her mouth. “Me? Now, would I do something like that?” she asks, and blinks thick lashes over innocent eyes.

  “I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re bribing me or not.”

  “But you’d know if it’s working though, right?”

  “It’s not working.”

  It’s working.

  “Oh, come on,” she pleads. “It’s for charity. Please, Tate...”

  “Summer...” I groan, and she grins.

  “That groan does not mean I’m wearing it.”

  It means I’m wearing it.

  How the hell can I say no to her when she’s gazing at me with those big doe eyes. Is that how she manipulates men into giving her what she wants? If that’s true, why don’t I care more that it’s working on me?

  “The funds go to the geriatric department at the hospital, and that is near and dear to my heart.”

  Why, is that where she hangs out to pick up her victims?

  Even as I ask myself these questions, they suddenly don’t sit right in my brain, or my gut. The more time I spend with her, the less sure I am that she’s the conniving gold digger I first thought. But then, what’s her relationship with my granddad?

  “What’s your costume?” I ask, and look into the bag. I pull out a cute little red fox outfit. “How come you get something adorable, and I have to be an ass?” I glare at her. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  She laughs. “No, it’s just that most of the men’s costumes were already rented when I signed us up last minute.”

  “Wait.” I stop in my tracks, and wave my hand, a motion to stop and backtrack. “Signed us up for what exactly?”

  “You’ve worked here long enough. You should know what event has costumes like this.”

  “Enlighten me, I forget.”

  “It’s the polar bear plunge.”

  I step back. “Nope. No way. Not happening. I’m not jumping into ice-cold water and freezing my balls off.”

  She leans toward me. “Not even if I promise to warm them up later, with my mouth?”

  “Jesus. How the hell can I say no to that?”

  “Pretty sure you can’t.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to wrap my brain around this. “So we jump into ice-cold water, with suits on?”

  She produces two tickets. “I already bought us the tickets, and we can win prizes.”

  “Like what? Most Shrinkage? Best Blue Balls?”

  She laughs, a deep belly laugh that nearly topples her over. For some strange reason I start laughing with her. I must be losing my damn mind. How can a woman I can’t figure out be so easy to laugh with?

  “No,” she says, still laughing. “Like Best Jump, Best Costume. Things like that. Some of the kids from the children’s hospital are here and they’re the judges. That’s why we have the costumes on. To make it fun for them.” The smile falls from her face, all serious now. “They need fun, Tate.”

  “Yeah, and I need my balls. I might want to have kids someday.”

  She puts a hand on her hip, her eyes challenging. “The guy who doesn’t believe in marriage wants a family someday?”

  “I say a lot of things.” I shake my head, flustered. “I can’t believe we’re paying to jump into cold water.” I take the tickets from her and turn them over in my hands. “These were one hundred bucks apiece?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a good chunk of change.” I reach for my wallet. “I’ll reimburse you.”

  She waves a dismissive hand. “No, this is o
n me. I like donating to hospitals.” She takes the tickets back and puts them in her purse. “Come on, this is going to be fun.”

  “Yeah, it’s right up there with skydiving without a parachute.”

  She laughs and slides her arm through mine, leading me around the resort, like she’s already gotten her bearings. Cheers originate in the crowd when we reach the huge pond behind one of the resorts, the ice broken in a large path from the shoreline to the deep middle, to allow us to dunk. People in costume already wait out on the center of the ice, ready to jump.

  “Motherfucker,” I whisper, and she nudges me.

  “Shh, there are children around.” She tugs on me. “Let’s grab a hot chocolate before things get started.” We move through the crowd, and some of the guests are already in costumes. Nice ones, like famous superheroes, not like my damn donkey. Yeah, I’m really going to make an ass out of myself in more ways than one. Children in wheelchairs, covered in blankets, are sanctioned off to one side, their caregivers and parents with them. They look on with bright eyes, and something inside me softens. Despite that the money raised goes to geriatric care, it’s nice they invite the kids to be judges. Summer was right, they do need fun, and what could be more fun than grown adults dressed up in costumes dunking themselves in freezing water? When I was a kid, I would have found it hilarious. Summer fills two paper cups with hot chocolate and hands one to me. I take a sip and it warms my stomach. If only I could pour it over myself before I take the plunge.

  A woman in her midthirties steps up onto a platform and taps on a microphone to draw our attention. “Okay, folks, those participating, go ahead and get your costumes on. Changing rooms are set up in the conference rooms inside, one for the men and one for the ladies.”

  “Let’s go,” Summer says, and we follow the chattering crowd into the hotel. Heat blasts over my body in the main lobby, and I carry my costume into the makeshift changing room. Since my costume has enclosed feet, I kick off my shoes and remove my clothes. Dressed only in my boxer shorts I climb into the suit, and zip it up in the back. I put my clothes in one of the cubbies set up along the wall and head back out to the main lobby. Everyone laughs as they walk by me.