Chapter 3
Violet walked intothe spacious lounge bar of the hotel and took a seat at one of the tables away from everyone.
The flight had been uneventful. What she hadn’t expected was the humid air of Miami when she stepped off the plane. The sticky tendrils of air had clung to her like a second skin. Wilted had come to mind as she sat in the waiting town car. She’d been so nervous she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate her surroundings as they had driven to her destination.
Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she’d find a moment to herself and explore—without her date, of course.
Once she’d checked into her room and showered, she had gone through each of the outfits she’d brought with her at least three times, finally settling on the midthigh-length formfitting black off-the-shoulder dress. She’d styled her hair in the messy do the stylist had showed her and added a simple pair of earrings to give herself a little bling to match the dress.
Boy, was she uncomfortable. Not only had she caught the eye of some unsavory bar patrons, but her nerves were kicking into overdrive.
This is a bad idea.
Raising her hand slightly, Violet called over the waitress. When the woman arrived with a smile and warm greeting, Violet gave her order. “White Russian, please. And can you have the bartender add a little bit of extra vodka?”
“Sure can.” The waitress grinned. “Anything else?”
“A do over?”
The waitress laughed and shook her head. “Sounds like you’re not having a very good evening.”
“I am sure it’ll get better. First-date jitters is all.” Why Violet felt compelled to talk to the woman, she didn’t know. But without Kate or Melody around for support, she needed to shed some of her excess anxiety.
The waitress nodded. “Extra vodka it is, and good luck.”
“Thanks,” Violet replied.
As the waitress walked off, Violet played with the corner of her napkin. Kate had called an hour before Violet’s date and asked how she was doing. She’d felt fine up until the moment she’d stepped into the bar. Right now, butterflies had set up residence in her belly, and they threatened to beat their way out.
Reality crashed in around her when she realized what she was about to do. What if they didn’t have anything to talk about? Or didn’t like the same things? Well, at least you’ll have the weekend to yourself. You can go to the beach, read, maybe explore a little bit. Her backup plan almost made the slightly apprehensive energy crawling through her subside. She was in Miami, after all. The area was steeped in history and rich in culture. She could have a good time on her own.
Sitting up a little straighter when the waitress returned, Violet scrunched her brows when she saw two drinks on her tray. “Who’s the second drink for?”
“This would be compliments of the gentleman at the bar. He said you looked like you could use something stronger.”
Yeah, Vi could, but she also wanted to be clearheaded when she met her date. Glancing up, she didn’t recognize the man. After talking to Kate, she’d been assured she would know her date when she saw him. The guy, though good-looking, didn’t jump out as someone she knew.
“Tell him thank you, but no thanks. I can’t accept this.” Of all the times to gain the attention of someone, it had to be while she waited for her date.
“I’ll take care of it,” the waitress answered. “Enjoy your drink, and I hope he’s worth it.”
Violet grinned. “I have been assured he is. He’s also a friend of a friend, so that makes it easier, but still...” She took a sip of her drink. The alcohol-infused concoction went down smooth as silk, warming her empty stomach.
“If you need anything else, let me know.” With a wink, the waitress went back to work, leaving Violet alone to her thoughts.
Idly, she sipped at her drink, relaxing a bit more. The vodka soothed her rattled nerves. Before long, she became excited at the prospect of meeting her date. Gone were the majority of the butterflies in her stomach. Until she realized once again that she didn’t know who she was waiting for.
“Damn it, Kate. You should have told me.” She sighed and looked up toward the entrance of the bar. Any minute, he had to show up.
“’Scuse me, miss?” the man at the table behind her said.
“Nothing. Sorry to disturb you.” Great. Now she was talking to herself in front of people.
* * *
Roman stepped acrossthe threshold of the bar and glanced around. The dark interior of the room didn’t help him with finding his date. He stepped farther into the space and squinted, checking every table to find a woman sitting on her own. Wouldn’t it be his luck, there were three tables meeting his criteria. He walked over to the bar and sighed. He tried calling Jesse to at least get a description of his date, but the guy refused to help him out. Nothing like letting me flounder.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, stopping in front of him.
“Beer,” he grunted. “Hey, a woman hasn’t been in here tonight talking about a date, has she?”
The bartender smiled. “There have been a couple. But they all left with someone, except for one. She’s refused at least three drinks so far, and if you’re thinking she’ll give you the time of day, I doubt it.”
Roman frowned as he grabbed the bottle of beer. “What’s wrong with me?” He’d actually cleaned up, left his hair unbound, and wore slacks and a button-down shirt, not his normal tank and jeans. He looked damn good if he did say so himself.
“She’s sophisticated.” Like that explained everything.
“Oh, Sal, knock it off.” A cute little blonde waitress came over and handed the bartender a new set of orders. “She’s at table six. You fit the whole ‘good-looking’ category.”
“Thanks, I think.” Throwing some bills on the counter, Roman grabbed his beer and walked over to table six after the waitress pointed it out. The woman had her head down, but when she tilted her face up, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Holy shit.” He’d never miss those big violet eyes of hers. However, she’d cut all her hair off, leaving her unrecognizable until he was close-up. The haircut made her cute, though. The black with purple highlighted spiky strands were styled haphazardly, giving her the perfect bedhead appearance.
“How are you doing, mouse?”
Violet gazed up at him, and her mouth fell open. “Ro-Roman?” she croaked.
“Ah, so you do remember me.” He laughed, taking a seat across from her. “You look beautiful, by the way.” Even in the low light of the room, he could see a slight blush cover her cheeks. His gut clenched, and his dick hardened. Fuck, the only time he ever had that type of reaction to a woman was when she was half-naked and offering him her body.
“You, uh, you look nice too.” Violet ducked her head and took a sip of her drink.
Maybe it was the thrill of the chase or the fact that she didn’t put it all out there for him, but sitting across from her, he wanted to see how far he could push her. “Just nice? I think you can do better than that.”
“You already know how hot you are, Roman. I shouldn’t have to spell it out,” she grumbled.
“Okay.” He played with the label on his beer for a moment. “How about this? I’ll go first.”
“Huh?”
“Stand up for me, Violet,” he said with a grin. “I want a look at you.”
“Of course you do,” she muttered but stood up as he asked. “There.” She stiffened under his gaze and crossed her arms while keeping her eyes down.
“Spin around for me. I want to check out this getup you’re wearing.” Her eyes narrowed, but he noticed right off that her nipples pressed against the bodice of her dress and the pulse at her neck throbbed erratically. So, I do get to you. Good to know. The skirt of her dress followed the curve of her ass as she turned around and made his mouth water.
He’d loved the silky wraparound dress she’d worn at the party, but this one showed off her figure. The tight black cocktail dress fit her like a second skin. The teardrop necklace she wore directed his attention to her breasts. Where the outfit she wore at the party had given a glimpse of her breasts, this one cupped them perfectly, putting them on display. He smirked when she finished turning in a circle and held out her hands, then slumped back into the booth across from him. He laughed.
“Okay, your turn. I want to see what my prize is as well.”
He had to admit, he was actually having fun. Standing, he ensnared her gaze.
“Turn around.” Her voice warbled, and her breath hitched when he complied.
He could feel her heated stare as she took in every inch of him, and damn if it didn’t turn him on even more. “So, do I pass the test, mouse?”
“Yes,” she sighed, picking up her drink. He watched as she swallowed the remaining contents and placed the glass on the table.
“How many of those have you had?”
“One, for courage,” she answered. “I figured I shouldn’t drink too much in case you were...dangerous.”
“Oh, mouse, I am most definitely dangerous. But I believe you need some dinner.”
“I know who you are. I’ve seen you with those women you call dates.”
Was she jealous of his hookups? “Have you now?”
“Yes,” she said with a lift of her chin.
“And what do you think of them?” Roman knew he was setting himself up to be lambasted by the quiet mouse.
“They’re only after one thing with you.” She held up her hand. “Sorry, two things.”
He waited for her to finish what she was saying, but when she didn’t, he cocked a brow. “And?”
“You obviously know what the two things are. They want your penis, and they want to be seen on your arm. It’s a trophy thing for them.”
His lips twitched. Violet had actually hit the nail on the head. “What about you? What are you looking for on this date?”
She opened her mouth several times before blinking at him and shaking her head.
“Come on. You can tell me. I won’t be mad.”
“I honestly had no expectations coming into this date. I don’t have sex, so I don’t need your penis. And being seen with you isn’t a prestigious thing for me. This whole situation will be turned into a pity date. You’ll be slapped on the back and given condolences due to the fact that you got stuck with me. I know how these things work.”
Damn, she did know his crew, with the exception of Jesse. “Okay, so you got me there,” he said. “But, in all your quickly calculated assumptions, did you throw in a variable for me? What I’d think? What I’d want? Did you stop to think maybe I would care?”
“Well, I...” She frowned. “I’ve seen you at Jesse and Kate’s barbecues. You huddle with a group of tattooed...”
“Thugs,” he supplied. “Come on, Violet. If we’re going to be honest with one another, lay it all out there for me.” Roman grabbed his beer off the table and took a swallow, then signaled for a waitress. “Hungry? I’m famished. I haven’t had a chance to grab anything to eat since early this morning. You know, when I woke up alone in my apartment.” He shrugged when she blinked and stared at him. “I didn’t have a busty blonde sleeping over to cook for me after a night of wild monkey sex, which you don’t have.” You’re a complete asshole, and if she doesn’t kick your ass, you should worship the ground she walks on.
“Touché.” She nodded. “Yes, I am hungry. I thought sampler platters would work for you since, you know, you’re unsophisticated and a bottom dweller.” She cocked a brow and gave a half smirk.
“Quick-witted.” He chuckled. “I like that. You should smile more.” Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of crimson. His dick pressed against the zipper of his slacks. “Anyway, sampler platter it is, on one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“You can’t eat all the potato skins. I fucking love those.” He groaned. “They’re my cheat meal.”
“Oh yes.” She chuckled. “Such a cheat meal for you. What are you, like three-hundred-and-fifty pounds?”
“Ouch. You wound me, woman.” He enjoyed her spunk. Though she wasn’t even close to his true weight, which hovered around two-hundred-and-forty pounds of pure muscle, the way she relaxed and allowed him to see a glimpse of her personality warmed his heart.
“Hardly, but if saying so assuages your ego, have at it.” When the waitress stepped in front of the table, Violet gifted her with a brilliant smile, twisting Roman’s guts. Fucking hell. “We’ll take two sampler platters. Extra potato skins for the bottomless stomach over there.”
Their new waitress giggled and winked at Roman before walking away.
“See? She proved my point.”
“Which is where we left off. You think my friends and I are thugs. Why?” Curious, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her answer.
“You said it, not me.”
True, but she hadn’t refuted what he’d said either.
“It’s not normal. You walk into our friends’ parties in your tight T-shirts and jeans riding low o-on your hips,” she stammered. “You barely leave anything to the imagination. Your swagger borders on conceit, and you look at all the women like they are some pieces of meat. A-a predator stalking its prey.”
“Except you,” he finished for her.
She pulled a face and snorted. “If I wanted your attention, I could be like every other girl. I could push my tits up, so they almost fall out of my shirt when I lean forward. Wear skirts that show off my pussy and ass when I bend over. Or too much makeup so I match Bozo the Clown. And I’d come to your shop every other week and ask you to put tattoos all over my body in suggestive places just so you look at my vagina with hopes that we fuck. But—”
“But?”
“I’m not them. So, I’m relegated to the shadows,” she murmured. “To the best friend or, worse yet, acquaintance table. I’m the girl you ask to go with you to pick out a ring for the girl who blows your mind...metaphorically speaking. A girl we both know won’t make it to the altar with you. Because she’ll find some dude wearing a biker vest who drives a better motorcycle than you, and he’ll be exactly what she’s been looking for all her life.”
“And you learned all of this after seeing me at some party, what, a handful of times?” Roman couldn’t believe how close she’d actually come to the truth. But the most important factor she forgot was herself. He had wanted her since the first time he’d laid eyes on her but had been too afraid of her reaction to him. Well, at least you know the truth.
“Five times. You were at Kate’s birthday party, Jesse’s Memorial Day party, their reception, the Labor Day party last year, and the trip to the beach we all took for a weekend cookout.”
“What about the party last weekend? You know, the one I tried to talk to you at,” he said, cocking his brow.
“Okay, and the party last weekend. By the way, who put you up to talking to me? Kate or Jesse. Or was it some kind of sick bet?”
“No one.” Roman laughed. “For someone who doesn’t like me, you sure do know how many times we’ve been at the same get-togethers, and you assume an awful lot as well.”
She shrank back into the cushion of the booth and hid her face from his perusal.
“You don’t get to hide from me. You’ve given me your truth; now it’s time for me to impart some truth on you.”
“By all means,” she answered, fiddling with her empty glass.
“I have seen you. I’ve always seen you. You came to the gatherings. You hid behind people, poles, anything to make you seem invisible to anyone who might be interested in you. You claim you don’t need nor want any one of my friends, but we all know you stare at us. It’s almost as if you want to talk to us, but you war with yourself. If I ever figured out what went on in that brain of yours, it would make me a mint.”
He shook his head, stopping her from saying anything.
“Yes, there is a bidding pool right now on what you actively think about while your gaze caresses each of us. We feel it. There have been several times I’ve gone home alone and beat off to the thought of you actually touching me. But you wouldn’t know any of this because you are so damn busy being a fucking wallflower. What happened to you to make you hide?”
“Nothing,” she whispered.
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “Someone who looked like me turned you down at some point in your life. What happened?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Roman cocked a brow. Bull”s-eye. It had been a shot in the dark when he’d said it, but she’d confirmed his suspicions.
“It really isn’t. Nothing happened. It was just a miscommunication; that’s it.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you what happened,” he stated, knowing full well this could fuck up their date and any chance they may have. But he also knew if they were going to have a future together, she had to face her demons head-on. This was a slippery slope—one he hoped didn’t lead him down the wrong path. “You liked a guy. He probably had shitty tattoos, but he represented everything you weren’t. A bad boy to your bookworm. He had swagger, as you’d say, and he was smooth. You lusted after him. Had a class or two with him. Probably literature or some shit. You both liked the same author, and for some reason, you thought there was a spark there. The sex probably sucked, but a bad boy who likes Chaucer. Shit, hold you back. The love of books made up for that,” he said.
“So, you got paired together to do a paper about your favorite author, and he was totally into you. I mean he must have laid it on thick. You fell for it, probably did all the work on said report, and when you got an A on the paper, he hightailed it out of there. Let me guess, you walked up to him in his group of friends, said hi, and asked if he’d be coming back to your place to have more shitty sex?”
“Stop it,” she whispered. “Don’t. You’ve made your point.”
“He fucked you over,” he growled, unable to stop the roll he was on. He’d kick his own ass later for hurting her. “And ever since then you’ve put all the guys who look, act, and dress like that fucking douche into the same category.”
“You know what? This date was a horrible idea, and that drink is really going to my head. I think I need to go to my room. Thanks for the, uh, thought-provoking conversation.” Violet hurried away as the waitress brought their platters to the table.
“Son of a bitch,” he sighed, then called himself all kinds of names. Inconsiderate prick seemed to fit him the best.
“Is she going to be okay?” Worry laced the waitress’s words.
“Yeah,” he answered after blowing out a breath of frustration. “Can you do me a favor? Can you box all this food up?”
“Sure thing, hon. Can I get you anything else?” she asked.
“Just the check and her room number. I don’t have it.” He gave her what he hoped was a sheepish look. “It’s a complicated story, but my apologizing to her would go a long way right now and I can’t do that without food.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Hotel policy is to not give out room numbers, but I can send the food up to her.”
“Look, I really need that room number. What do I have to do to get it?” He wasn’t above pleading, if need be, to get what he wanted.
The waitress looked over at the bar, then back at him. “I’m new. Like, really, really new. I could lose my job for helping you.”
Roman sighed. “So how do I get to my girl without knowing the room number?”
The girl shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Me and my big fucking mouth,” he muttered as the girl walked away.