“I can’t believe I haven’t told you about last Friday. You won’t believe what Mother did and who I ran into.” I put the word ran in air quotes before stuffing another taco in my mouth. “Damn, it’s loud in here,” I yell with my mouth still partially full.
“Oh, sounds juicy. Let me tell you this first. Like I was saying, since you watch basketball with Dad—” I tolerate basketball with our dad. I sit with him and look at my phone or grade papers while he watches. I do it because our evil stepmother refuses. And as many times as he’s tried to teach me the basics, I have no idea what the rules of the game are. Most importantly, I do not care.
Ethan returns, and Tara stops speaking. He’s not alone this time. Next to him is the tallest man I think I’ve ever seen. He must be close to seven feet tall. With my mouth full of taco, I crane my neck and stare into his face. After leaning down and kissing Tara’s cheek, he looks down at me. He has dark brown eyes and a mop of dark, curly hair on his head. His eyes are framed with thick eyelashes, and his eyebrows are kind of bushy, but they make him approachable. Otherwise, he would be too perfect. Too handsome. His face has about a day’s worth of stubble on it, and I didn’t realize I like that look until just now.
He looks familiar, and as soon as I hear a group of women calling his name and snapping pictures, it clicks, and whatever interest I had in him vanishes. He stands tall, waves, and smiles at the fangirls. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned off in my life. As handsome as he is, I remind myself that I’m all about black love. I turn back to the tacos and shove another one in my mouth.
Tara jumps up and hugs him. Ethan playfully pulls her away and stands between them. The guy pretends to go around Ethan to hug Tara again, but Ethan blocks him. I wash down the taco and look around for Tamron so she can join us. Maybe this guy will enjoy getting his ego stroked by someone who actually gives a shit about athletes.
“Vickie,” Ethan says, “this is my friend and neighbor, Colt.” Colt’s height isn’t the most disarming thing about him. His smile is, and if I wasn’t sitting, I would have fallen on my ass at the sight. His full pink lips hide perfect straight teeth, and the single dimple he has in his right cheek should be illegal. “Colt, this is Tara’s sister, Vickie Taylor.”
His eyes roam my body, paying special attention to my breasts in the tight corset top, which pushes them together, making them appear bigger than they are. The joke’s on him. He doesn’t stop at my breasts. His eyes travel south, slowly roaming my bare legs. I almost have the urge to pull down my skirt, but I don’t bother. He’s free to look, but he’d better not touch.
He extends a hand, and to show him I’m not affected by his face or his celebrity, I take it. I do my best to appear unfazed, but it’s like a bolt of electricity has gone through me, and I’m grateful for the loud music that drowns the gasp of surprise that leaves my mouth. I try to pull my hand away from his, but he has other ideas. He lifts it and puts his full, soft lips on the back of my hand. Another gasp, and I feel my face flush, something that hasn’t happened to me in years. When he loosens his grip, I pull my hand away and discreetly wipe his kiss on my skirt as if that would undo the jolt of lightning that’s still surging through my body.
Needing to gain control of myself and the situation, I feign ignorance and say, “You look familiar. Do I know you? Are you an actor?”
His eyes light up at my question. He smiles deep enough for that dimple to make another appearance, and I eye his stubble up close. It’s the kind that you want to run your tongue through.
“Forward for the Manhattan Mischiefs, Victoria. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I almost combust at his words. His voice wasn’t what I expected. I knew it would be deep, but I was not prepared for the baritone. I stand abruptly and move to the edge of the VIP section to look across the room for Tamron. I get no reprieve. He follows and stands next to me, invading my senses with the scent of his cologne.
“A forward for the Manhattan Mischiefs? What’s that? Sounds like a lookout for a gang.” His eyes light up with humor and the corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Are you in the mob or something?” He doesn’t answer me right away. He signals for the server and orders a water with lime.
“Is that your subtle way of letting me know you don’t watch basketball?”
“Basketball? Is that what you do?” I make a show of looking around the crowded club. There’s a line of women and men looking and pointing at him. Two burly guys stand in their way. “You’re in the wrong section.” I point to the group of women trying to get noticed by him. “I think they’re trying to get your attention.”
“Vickie, Colt’s son is Vincent’s BFF,” Tara says as she approaches. Vincent is Ethan’s four-year-old son. My sister went from single to living with a single father and assuming the role of stepmom within months.
I look at her, and I purse my lips in disapproval. She smirks and I smirk back. Message received. I do a small eye roll, determined now more than ever to get away from this guy. Athlete and single father. No and no. Stick a fork in it, it’s done. Tara shrugs. Traitor.
“What’s this now?” Colt asks.
“What’s what?” I ask him.
“That look between the two of you. It’s like you were having a conversation with just your eyes. Like you can read each other’s minds.”
“We can,” Tara tells him. “It’s our superpower.”
“And that look was about me, wasn’t it?” Colt’s deep baritone gets closer. He’s standing so close, his body is practically touching mine.
“I bet according to you, everything is about you,” I tell him. Tara giggles and promptly covers her mouth with her hands. Ethan leans down and whispers something in her ear. She nods at whatever he says, and they both look up and laugh.
“Why am I not surprised?” Ethan asks. “Let’s go dance and leave these two alone.” He puts his hand on the small of her back, leaving me alone with Colt.
“So,” he says close to my ear. I pull out my phone to text Tamron to join me in the VIP. “Is that it? I’m dismissed?” I look up at him, raise an eyebrow and look back down at my phone.
“What on earth are you talking about?” I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I refuse to admit it. I keep staring at my phone hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. He doesn’t.
“You learned something about me that made you dismiss me.”
“Dismiss you as what, Cole?” I open my email and go through it. Mostly junk.
“Colt, darlin’.” I pretend I don’t hear him and continue to stare at my phone. He puts a huge palm over my screen. “Colt, darlin’,” he repeats with more force.
“It’s Victoria, never darling,” I correct him. I move the phone, turn, and give him my back. He moves and stands next to me.
“Thank goodness I said darlin’, not darling. So, what is it about me that turned you off?”
