Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star (The New York Artists Series) by Cathrine Goldstein

Author:Cathrine Goldstein [Goldstein, Cathrine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary, Scarred Hero/Heroine
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Published: 2016-07-05T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

After a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and freshen up, they left. It was just the two of them as they walked Winston down Broadway. Apparently, Malcolm was able to go out without security when the city was fairly empty—like now, on a very early Sunday in the middle of summer.

Summer looked up at the sky and smiled. The sun was just waking up, and it promised to shine gloriously today—not too hot—just perfect. She adjusted her oversized glasses it was still too dark to need, and caught Malcolm staring at her shirt.

“What?” She smiled, stuffing her hands into her jeans.

“I like the way my shirt looks on you.”

Summer’s cheeks warmed. Truth told, Summer loved being in Malcolm’s shirt. It was just a plain gray v-neck t-shirt, but it smelled like him. She adored the feel of Malcolm Angel wrapped around her. The v-neck sat perfectly at her top, showing only the tiniest bit of cleavage. The sleeves were much too large, and the shirt hung down to her thighs, but he seemed to like it well enough.

“That’s silly…” She waved him off.

“No, really.” He reached out and took her hand for a moment, squeezing it. “You look gorgeous.”

“Really?” She smirked at him.

“Really. We might have to keep you in my t-shirts—always.”

Summer laughed, but burning heat shot from the hand he had squeezed up through her arm, resulting in her face flushing. She fanned herself, racking her brain for the plausible reason for this sudden hot flash. Medically, it could be the stress hormones epinephrine or norepinephrine, but she wasn’t feeling a bit stressed. If anything, she was feeling quite calmly content. Think, think, think. There had to be a reason she was feeling this rush, this warmth all over—a hypothalamus dysfunction? She should be so lucky. There was only one answer that could explain her sudden perspiration, and he was about six feet tall with the body of a god and the voice of an angel…Malcolm Angel. The aroma of warm bagels caught her attention, offering a reprieve from her thoughts, and she threw her small nose up into the air, sniffing. Winston barked.

“Right, Winston? Bagels. They smell incredible.”

“The store over there—across the street—specializes in them.” Malcolm pointed to an orange and white awning. “Best in the world.”

“Best bagels in the world?” Summer turned to him, lifting her glasses, her eyes wide. “Let’s go.” Letting her glasses drop, she grabbed his arm and started pulling.

He laughed. “Hold on a sec. I haven’t eaten a bagel in…I don’t know how long.” Malcolm stood still, shaking his head.

“Why not?” They stopped under a tree, and Summer smiled. She would never have guessed in the middle of all the concrete and high rises, there could be life. “If I lived here I’d eat them every day. At least every Sunday.”

“Are you gonna?” He turned to Summer. The intensity of his words hung like fog between them, cooling her burning skin, and blanketing the nearly deserted street.

“Am I going to what?” She stared at the ground, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

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