{Chapter 3}: Beer Boy Has An Effect On Barbie Girl's panties. Exhilaration thrummed through my veins and my skin sizzled when his thumb performed a gentle sweep against the back of my hand. The caress only served to emphasize his words. I wheeled around and was suddenly stricken by our close proximity. Appalled at myself when my breath hitched in my throat at the sight of him. A mere second ago, we'd been at a hairsbreadth of a distance until he'd taken a step back. I arched an eyebrow scornfully - something I seemed to be doing a lot in his presence. "So he speaks." "He does." Sam's voice dropped to a low rumble. This time, he slanted his eyebrow casually, almost as if to mock me. "And he seems to want to speak with you." "Does he now?" I asked, peering at him through my lashes. I took a sip of my drink, never breaking eye contact from his striking green eyes. A crooked smile graced his lips and something about it had my heart simultaneously palpitating and swooning. Jesus, no wonder he had girls dropping at his feet. The dim lighting at the bar draped over his face, playing shadows across his chiseled features. He scraped a hand over his stubble peppered jaw, and I noticed that despite everything, there was a rugged quality to him. His tongue snaked out to wipe over that bottom, bee-stung lip. My eyes were drawn to the motion like a moth to a flame. The sound of his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth drew me out of my reverie. "Definitely. He's wondering why someone like you is alone at a party like this. You're usually hard to get a hold of." I was fixated on the first bit of his words, not quite understanding what he meant by them. "Someone like me?" "Gorgeous." He took a step towards me, then murmured as an afterthought, "Beautiful." My eyebrows curved in response and heat skimmed across my cheeks. Okay, so it had been awhile since a guy had complimented me the way Samuel had - with that hot, fervent look burning in his emerald depths. I'm sure disbelief was painted all over my face. I bit my lip and his gaze briefly dropped to my mouth. "For someone who just met me, you sure are straightforward." "It's the truth." Another step my way. The bar top dug in my lower back and his heady cologne - a distinct mixture of an earthy scent and something that was pure-male - permeated my senses. "I only buy drinks for pretty girls like yourself. The kind that make me chase them down." My chest expanded with a shuddering breath. I was right; a lot of changes were happening today. Never in a million years did I think I'd be standing in front of Samuel Adams, having a conversation about his choice in pretty girls and for whom he buys drinks. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if I should be flattered that I fell into that category or downright disgusted by the thought of him - or anyone else for that matter - chasing me down like I was some kind of prize to be won at the end of a race. My mind was still reeling from what he said. When my eyes locked with his and I saw the playfulness shining in them, I decided to play along. "Let me guess," I pushed a wavy strand away from my face, coyly, and gestured my hand flippantly in the air."You like chasing." I didn't know where this flirtatious side was coming from. Maybe it was always there - suppressed and filed away with the last remnants of the girl who used to party too much, drink too much and hang out with the wrong kind of crowd too much. Or maybe it was simply the atmosphere; the lighting, the relaxed ambiance and the music of the party. Then again it might have just been Samuel: his dark green eyes, teasing expression, mouth-watering scent and low timbre. Something about the mood was rousing my old self to resurface. He smirked devilishly and his gaze burned with a fire ember like intensity as it raked up and down my length. "Only when it's worth my while." In other words, I was worth his time. He was smooth. I wondered how many girls he used that line on. Because this banter felt like a breath of fresh air after all these years, I didn't want to stop. "I'm flattered." "You should be." So he was cocky, too. I'd heard enough rumours to know that cockiness with Samuel Adams was a given. Overconfidence in a guy irritated me, but the way he delivered that line, so carefree and casual seemed kind of charming. Surprisingly. I took a sip of my drink and levelled him with a look. "So you want to tell me what's your reason for being here?" "What do you mean?" The self-assured smile faltered of his face for a split second. Pressing the red party cup to my cheek, I motioned around us, shifting from one foot to the other. "Here. With me." "Told you I was wondering what a gorgeous girl like you was doing here alone." "Who says I'm alone?" Sam's broad shoulders quivered with his throaty chuckle. He made a big show of checking around him before inching closer. I pushed farther into the counter behind me. "Who says otherwise?" Samuel murmured huskily and his eyes dropped to my mouth again, like he just couldn't resist. "Touché." I shook my head. "Let me guess, you were wondering the same thing at Lyla and Nash's wedding when you tried to approach me. Am I right or... am I right?" "Keeping track of my failed attempts, huh?" "I'm good at math." I shrugged calmly, but the butterflies in my stomach begged to differ. He'd edged closer to me and one of his big hands was braced beside me on the counter. I was anything but calm.