Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

I open the front door and lean against the frame, waiting for the driver to let her out of the car. When he does, my jaw practically drops to the floor. Fuck me! I’ve never seen her this dressed up before.

The white jumpsuit she’s wearing clings to her every curve, the mesh of the deep plunge showing a tiny bit of cleavage. Just enough to tease and have my dick straining my jeans like a thirteen-year-old boy. Being around Amelia and trying to be a gentleman is giving me a serious case of the blue balls.

She smiles wide and I clear my throat as she walks over to me carefully as to not stumble in her black heels. The driver nods at me and climbs back in his car, driving back down the driveway.

My gaze falls back on Amelia, my heart thumping erratically in my chest as she steps over the threshold. “I hope you didn’t mind the car service, I got caught up on a call and didn’t want to be late for you.”

I place the beers down on the table and close the front door behind her, snaking my arm around her waist.

“Of course not.” She rests her hands on my biceps. “Hey,” she whispers, her nerves flowing through her chocolate-brown eyes.

“Hey.” I place a light kiss on her cheek, breathing in her floral perfume. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful.”

“I…” Heat rises up her cheeks. “Thank you. You look…” Her eyes trail over me as she bites her bottom lip. “Sexy.”

I chuckle, plucking the plaid shirt I’ve had for about six years from my chest. “This old thing?”

“The whole boxy thing suits you,” she jokes, a smirk on her lips.

“I’ll try to remember to buy more ‘boxy things’ in the future.” She laughs along with me and I pick up the discarded beers, handing her one. “Here’s one I prepared earlier.”

Her hand wraps around the bottle before she brings it to her lips and takes a pull, nodding her head in some sort of confirmation. “Very sophisticated.”

I lead the way to the kitchen as I say, “What can I say? I’m a very sophisticated man.”

She chuckles and places herself on one of the stools at the island. “So, Amelia…” I shake my head, her name not feeling right on my tongue now we’re way past the boundary of friendship. “We’re going to have to change your name.”

“My name?” She frowns.

I sit opposite her, placing my beer down in front of me and linking my fingers together as if we’re about to have a very serious conversation. “Yep, you need a nickname. Amelia feels too… formal.”

She tilts her head, her eyes wandering off as she seems to be thinking. “Kind of like how Tris calls me ‘A’?”

“Just like that; except I need my own. I’m not recycling someone else's name for you.” She nods and smiles as I think hard. “Hmm. I think I’ll call you different names tonight to see which one feels right. You okay with that?”

“I mean…” She widens her eyes. “It kind of feels like you have a new puppy and you want to see what name I’ll answer to.”

A booming laugh escapes me. “No, I just want to see which name feels right to call you.”

“Hmmm.” She taps her finger against her bottom lip, bringing attention to the fullness. “I don’t mind.” She quirks her lip. “I think I should think of a nickname for you too… but that’s for another time.”

“Sure, Mel.” Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head emphatically. “Nope, I didn’t like that one either, reminds me of my mom.” I chuckle and slide off the stool, walking toward the refrigerator. “Are you hungry now?”

“Starved.” She stretches out the word. “I saved myself for you.”

I cough as I pull out the crab cakes for the starter. “You, what?”

“I saved myself for you.” She rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Well yeah, but…” I smirk at her. “Never mind.” I take the Saran Wrap off the dish and pour oil into a deep frying pan, heating it up. “Oh… you’re not allergic to shellfish or anything, are you?”

“No… all good on the food front.”

“I should’ve checked beforehand but I didn’t think.” I turn and drop the crab cakes into the oil. “What are you allergic to if it’s not food?”

She dips her gaze down at her beer quickly before she looks back at me. “Chamomile tea and erm…” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Latex.”

I almost drop the packet of rocket lettuce I’m holding at her admission. “I, erm… I bet that was an awkward find.”