Emancipating Andie

Shit.

“Hi,” she said with a small, tentative smile. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but a few wispy strands had fallen free and were framing her face.

This was supposed to be the moment he realized he had blown this girl way out of proportion, that his memory had embellished her appeal.

But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

“Andie. Good to see you again,” he finally said, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw the slight flush color her cheeks.

She nodded, the same tight smile in place as she turned and walked into the apartment. His eyes dropped of their own volition, admiring the way her ass looked in the cotton yoga pants she was wearing.

“I’ll be ready in two minutes,” she said, turning her head over her shoulder, and Chase ripped his eyes away from her body and back up to her face just in time. She walked behind the tiny island in the kitchen and lifted a mug. Just as it touched her lips, she froze, looking at him over the top of it.

She brought it down slowly. “Um, do you want some coffee?”

“Fuck yes,” he exhaled, and he saw the tiny crease form between her brow as the corners of her mouth turned down. She turned to open the cabinet.

“I’m not really a morning person,” he offered as he put his bags down by the door and walked toward the kitchen. She gave him no reaction, her eyes trained on the mug as she poured the coffee.

“Cream? Sugar?” she asked, still not looking at him.

“Black is fine.”

She handed him the mug and picked up her own in one movement, walking out of the kitchen and leaving him standing there alone.

He turned and leaned back against the island as he sipped his coffee, his eyes combing her apartment. Immaculate. That was the one word that kept coming to mind. Nothing out of place, everything spotless. The wood floor of her living room was shining, like a goddamn commercial. Her walls were decorated with photographs and little fancy shelves that held a bunch of candles and other useless girly crap. An upright piano made of gleaming mahogany stood against the far wall. And her couches were white. He laughed to himself, thinking of how long a white couch would survive in his apartment. Shit, he could even see himself in the countertop, he noticed, as he turned to put the mug down.

A bustling sound caught his attention, and he looked up, watching her come out from what he assumed was her bedroom with her bags. Her expression was passive, her eyes downcast.

“You know what this place needs?” he said, lifting his mug and taking another sip.

She placed one of her bags down on the coffee table and began rummaging through it. “No, but I’m sure you’re go

“It needs some life.”

She froze, forgetting for the moment about whatever it was she was looking for, and lifted her eyes, looking up at him from under her lashes. And God help him, when he saw the fire behind them, the same one he remembered from the cellar, he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

“What, do you moonlight as an interior decorator?” she asked, her tone curt as she looked back down and continued searching through her bag.

“Hardly,” he said through his smile. “I’m just saying. This place is just so…pristine. It doesn’t even look lived in. How do you accomplish that? You’re here every day, but there’s no trace of you at all.”

She straightened the contents of the bag before roughly zipping it closed. “Some things don’t change, I see,” she mumbled under her breath as she picked up the bag and swung it over her shoulder.

“Pardon?” he asked, even though he had heard her clearly.

She looked up and forced a tiny smile. “Nothing. Are you ready?”

He nodded, taking down the rest of his coffee. He went to place the empty mug on the counter, and before it even made contact, it was out of his hand. He watched her quickly wash both of their mugs and put them back in the cabinet before drying her hands on a dishtowel. She walked back into the living room and grabbed her bags, gesturing for him to go before her.

Chase stepped outside and waited while she locked up, admiring the tone of her arms as she juggled her bags and her keys.

“Just so you know,” she said casually as he followed her to the parking lot, “there’s no smoking in my car.”

He laughed then, shaking his head as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a pack of nicotine gum, holding it out for her approval. “May I chew gum? Or is that also against the rules?”

She glanced at the gum and then up at him, giving him no reaction as she turned to open the trunk of her car. He waited for her to put her bags in before he followed suit, and by the time he closed the trunk, she was already in the driver’s seat, waiting.

He knew he shouldn’t be provoking her, but there was something about her feistiness that he enjoyed. It was raw and authentic and refreshing. Most of the girls he knew were so affected, so specious. He liked seeing a woman who pulled no punches, who was confident enough to express what she was feeling, and who made no apologies for it.

And if he were being honest, he liked that he was able to ignite that spark in her.

But he shouldn’t be doing it. He knew that. For one, he was getting under her skin, and as much as it amused him to play around, he didn’t want to actually upset her. But more importantly, he shouldn’t be looking to get a rise out of interacting with her.

It was harmless, his playful taunting. He had no intention of making a move on Andie; but still, in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be needling her.

Yet as he slid into the passenger seat next to her, he also knew it was going to be difficult to stop.

She started the car and pulled out of the lot, and he glanced over at her. “So,” he said. “Have you ever made this drive before?”

She shook her head slightly, and then asked softly, “You?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know why anyone would drive this when it’s so much easier to fly.”

“Well you should have, then,” she said casually. He turned to look at her; her eyes were on the road, her expression indifferent, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

He looked down, a smile still playing at his mouth over her quip. “How come Colin didn’t drive with you?” he asked. He already knew the answer to this question, of course, but he wanted to see how she felt about it.

“He had a lot to do down there this week. Wedding party obligations,” she said with a shrug. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of resentment in her tone.

“So then why didn’t you just drive down earlier?”

Andie glanced in her rearview before switching lanes. “Because,” she said absently, “I had work.”

“What do you do?”

“I manage a restaurant.”

“Really?” Chase asked with genuine interest. “Do you own it?”

“No, my father does.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Well, you gotta love nepotism.”

Her hand came down on the steering wheel, the sound of it catching him off guard.

“See, why do you have to do that?” she asked, the irritation clear in her voice as she turned to look at him. “Why do you have to be like that?”

He shook his head slightly. “I’m kidding, Andie. It wouldn’t kill you to laugh. It wouldn’t even hurt. I promise,” he said, crossing his heart and then holding his hand up.

She turned her eyes back to the road, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she tapped a button on the steering wheel, turning on the radio. The space between them was filled with the low murmur of some random music station and the sound of her thumb drumming the side of the steering wheel.

Chase waited until he saw the tension leave her shoulders before he spoke again. “Okay, so I have to ask, what’s the story behind Andie?”