“I’m going to set you up,” Morganna demands. It’s not a question. I laugh a little to try to diffuse the situation. It’s the same situation every time I hang out with her in asingleatmosphere. You might wonder why I don’t let her set me up. Someone I idolize so much has to have some taste, right? Well, I don’t want anyone’s help replacing the Nashhole. Call me a romantic at heart, but I want it to happen organically. Like in the bread aisle. Because he needs to know up front I like and eat carbs like a duck in a pond. They’re hopeless aspirations, but they are my own.
“Where’s Stone?” I utter the only name I know will shut her up.
She fluffs her already high hair even higher. “He’s with the rat pack tonight. Actually I suspect they may have already slithered their way here somewhere.” She glances around the bar slowly. “The guy I want to set you up with is with him.”
I start shaking my head the second the words leave her mouth. No way. Not one of them. One ofThe Guys. I’d rather meet a vegan on the veggie aisle. I don’t hang out with Stone very often as he has a lot of work trips, but I know all of his friends are the same as him. Crazy. Reckless crazy, not deranged. Not fully deranged anyway. One glance and I know Morganna is merely waiting for me to continue, knowing I’m not done rejecting her ludicrous idea.
“I love you, but you’re absolutely crazy and there is no way. No way.” I make my arms into an X in front of chest and open them up. “You know when I’m ready – and I’m not saying I’m ready – that I want to stumble into a guy. There will be slow clapping, and heart palpitations. If I go out with one of The Guys there will only be heart palpitations because I’ll be in a near death experience, I’m sure. I’m here tonight because Gretchen thinks I’m on the fast track to inhabiting a library with cats winding around my feet. Oh, and I’m wrinkly in the un-cute way.”
“You are,” Morganna says, unapologetically. I flinch a little, but they are both right. And I can’t hate the haters. Nash has made me the ultimate hater. “Well you aren’t wrinkly and Botox can fix that, but it’s time. That’s the end of it. You either want help or you want to fend for yourself. Which is it?” she asks.
I look away, honestly considering doing what she wants. I want to please her and do something decent for myself at the same time.
I decide to head to the bar. “I’ll think about it. Meaning I will really consider it, but not tonight, okay? I’m not ready to dive into the deep end.” I smile. She nods. “One dose of Benji and Gretchen has forgotten all about us. I’m going to grab us drinks. Warn me ifyourrat pack arrives so I can duck in a corner.” I shake my finger at her as I teeter away. A red nail brushes the bottom of her chin. She’s conspiring, God dammit.
I hear them before I see them. Voices commanding. Laughter booming. A drunken baby turns to look at the commotion and splashes half her cup onto the top of my foot. A wet high heel—perfect. I don’t even bother looking. I know it’s The Guys. I glare at Morganna, and she just laughs. I know the exact moment her sights lock on Stone. Her face morphs into a puddle of slush. I walk, with my heel slipping out of my shoe all the way to the bar, and grab a cocktail napkin out of a stack. I slip my foot out of my shoe and start drying it. When I look up, I see him.
Muscles are everywhere. He’s so large he is the only thing my eyes can possibly be drawn to. I think the rest of the bar is probably looking at him too, but I wouldn’t know because I’m staring at him. Like a deer in freaking headlights.
Except he hasn’t even noticed me. His black dress shirt is cuffed up his forearms and dark tattoos peek out. His dark wash jeans fall to that exceptional place on his narrow waist. Usually, I’m not so into physical things about the opposite sex. Right now, though, all I can think about is sex. Him. Muscles. On me. I’m hot all at once. I can’t breathe.
He throws his head back and laughs at something one of the trophy women around him says. I want to thank whoever made this creature laugh because it reveals perfect teeth, and I now know his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and it looks like perfection. He is perfect. He probably knows how perfect he is and that is the number one thing that I do not want or need in a man. Not that he’d have plain ole’ me anyways. It looks as if he could have his choice out of the entire bar—perhaps even the world. Stone claps the guy on the back, looking directly at Morganna, and then retreats to his wife. Of course he is one ofThe Guys.
Off limits, Windsor,I remind myself because my damn traitorous body has other thoughts.
I notice his black watch, the tattoo that creeps out of the neck of his shirt, all tell tale signs. I know what he does; I also know exactly how long he can hold his breath.
Mr. Sexy meets my gaze. I suck in a sharp breath when he rakes his eyes over my body once and then again. A predatory smile creeps its way up the lower part of his face. Dimples. Two of them—one on each side. They aren’t cute either, like little boys with dirt smeared on their faces. These dimples arehot. What makes them smolder is that they don’t go with the rest of him. The juxtaposition of the dimples on something so unfathomably masculine is…mouthwatering.
Even as embarrassed as I am, I can’t look away. He leans his head to one side trying to hear the girl talking next to his ear, but his narrowed gaze doesn’t stray from mine.
Someone jerks my arm. “Put your fucking shoe on, Windsor,” Gretchen hisses from behind me. “That man, and he is a fine ass specimen, is coming over here. By the way he’s looking at you I think he might want to eat you for dinner.” One crude sentence is all it takes. I’m back on guard, minus the fluttering heart. Gretchen knows it.
“Good thing I don’t like to be munched on then.” I fix her with my icy stare. The wall is up. This guy could be Kellan Kyle mixed with Channing Tatum, and he wouldn’t have a chance in hell with my wall.
Awareness of everything on and inside my body hits me. I don’t even need to turn around. I know he’s there. I sense it. Every hair on my neck rises as I take in his sweet, musky cologne.
“Maybe I can fix that,” Mr. Sexy says, voice licking each syllable like he invented the damn English language. I still don’t turn around. I stare at Gretchen’s face, transfixed by this man’s presence. Her face breaks into a huge grin.
“Damn. That is best line I’ve heard in a long time,” she says to him, slow clapping and shaking her head to drive the point home. “Fix that? Munch on you? Get it?” Gretchen snorts.
All I’m aware of is the heat permeating my body and the frantic pace of my heart. I turn around and faceThe Guy.
Chapter Three
Maverick
This chick looks completely mortified. She would look less shocked if she walked onto an airplane naked. Or got caught fucking in public. Her huge blue eyes are scared shitless, like a wounded animal. I know what scared shitless looks like. I deal it out as a profession.
I turn on my smile and watch her study my face. She’s guarded…I see it. A challenge. Not an easy fuck. Not my type at all. I glance at her cute friend who looks easy as poker with a blind man. She’s exactly my type. No strings. I’m not even sure what drew me to the doe-eyed girl in the first place.
The friend chuckles a little and pushes her toward me. The friend must be taken. “No…thank yo-u,” Blue Eyes stutters, finally responding. Sinking my hands in the pockets of my jeans I narrow my eyes.
“Are you sure? I’m good at fixing things.” Her cheeks are so red I think she will turn into flames any second. I laugh. I could let my little charade go on all night. When she stays silent, I nod at her bare foot and then the shoe she clutches in her hand. “Your shoe is broken. Do you want me to fix it?” I ask, putting her out of her misery. She visibly relaxes when she realizes I’m not talking about munching on her. The joke was too easy.
Balancing on one foot, she slips her shoe back on. I catch a glimpse of her purple toes before she does. It reminds me of how all women get dressed after I’m done with them and my dick gets hard. I readjust it through my pocket. Her eyes dart down to my crotch. Perfect. It’s exactly where I want her attention.
“My shoe is fine. Some idiot spilled on me,” she says, as her gaze wanders back up to my face. I make sure the smile is in place when she does. I like to watch them squirm before I leave them in the dust. She’s different though. Her expression hardens even further. “I won’t be needing your services tonight.”
