8. That’s What Friends are For
8
Miles
Ican’t tell if Roxy is pissed or thankful for my sudden appearance. Maybe a little of both? After she sent me the photo of her in that green dress, I ignored my twitching cock and threw on my best suit. There was no way I was going to let her go on a date, alone, with a stranger. Not looking like that.
She looks even sexier in person, even with that confused frown marring her face.
I never planned to intervene the way I did. I didn’t have much of a plan, at all, other than to sit at the bar and keep an eye on her. To make sure she was safe.
The second I saw her sit down with that douche dressed like he was hitting the gym for a pick-up game, my hackles rose. He didn’t pull out her chair. He leered at her like she was a piece of meat, and he was starving. I wanted to punch him in his God damn face.
I stayed out of it, watching Roxy’s demeanor change from nervous discomfort, to irritation, to outright rage, and I couldn’t stop my feet from striding across the restaurant.
And when I heard him say he was ready to fuck her as I approached? I nearly wrapped my hands around his skinny throat and choked the life out of him.
“What are you doing here, Miles?” Roxy asks after staring at me with confusion for several long, tense moments.
The corners of my mouth tilt up. I cock my head and hold my palms in the air.
“Would you believe it was a coincidence? Kismet? That I happened to be having a drink at the bar just when you needed me?” She gives me a disbelieving look. “Ok, fine. I overheard you telling the girls where you were going the other night. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I promise, you never would’ve known I was here if you didn’t need me.”
“And you don’t find that the slightest bit creepy?” she asks, her expression smoothing out a bit.
“No. I’d like to think of it as being a good friend.” God, it pains me to say that word right now, looking at her across the table in this dim, romantic light. “Do you think it’s creepy?”
“A little,” she admits, one side of her mouth lifting into a smirk.
“I can live with that,” I say, my own lips spreading wide.
She relaxes, then looks up as her waiter approaches. “Everything okay here, Roxy?”
“I’m good, John, thanks. Can you please get rid of these drinks and bring me a glass of the white?” She pauses and glances over at me.
“I’ll have a glass of iced tea.”
“Right away,” he says, his eyes flicking back and forth between us for a moment before he spins and strides away.
“So…that was your big date, huh?” I tease, and she scrunches up her face.
“Shut up.”
I lift my palms in submission. “Hey, no judgement here. Dating is hard.”
“Yeah, right,” she says with an eye roll. “I bet it’s real hard for a rich, famous, gorgeous guy like you.”
“You think I’m gorgeous?” I ask, my voice laced with mischief. She arches a brow at me, and I shrug. “Dating is probably harder for me than it is for you.”
“How so?” she asks.
“I never know if a woman wants to be with me because she likes me, or if it’s a grab for the status that comes with dating a professional athlete.”
She stares at me for a moment with those big brown eyes. “Is that why you didn’t correct me that night when I thought your name was Blake?”
“It’s nice to have a little anonymity every once in a while,” I say, then narrow my eyes at her playfully. “Although I was a little butt-hurt at first when it was obvious you had no idea who I was.”
She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard all day. Before she can respond, John arrives with our wine glasses, and asks if we’ll be ordering dinner. Roxy looks over at me, and I give her hopeful puppy dog eyes. She chuckles, and turns back to John.
“I’ll have the fettuccini alfredo with roasted chicken and a side salad with the raspberry vinaigrette, please.”
John looks over at me, and I nod toward Roxy. “I’ll have the same.”
He nods and takes our menus before walking away to put in our order. Roxy settles back in her chair and sighs.
“Trace tried to order light beer and hot wings.”
“His name is Trace? God, he’s an even bigger douchebag than I imagined,” I say with faux horror, making Roxy laugh again.
“Seriously. Who books a reservation at a place like this, then wears athletic gear while ordering sports bar food?” she asks, humor lacing her voice.
“And after all that, he expected you to…what? Take him home with you?”
I try to keep my voice light, but some of my initial anger slips through. Roxy must hear it, because she shakes her head at me.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Miles. I’m a lot tougher than I look. I could’ve handled that asshole and sent him packing, all on my own.”
“Oh, I know you could,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine before her lips curve up the tiniest bit. “Thank you.”
I know she’s not just talking about my knight in shining armor act. She’s thanking me for believing in her, and for being there even when she didn’t think she needed me. I shoot her a wink.
“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.”
And I don’t even choke on that last bit. I may want Roxy Chamberlain like I’ve never wanted another woman before, but if I can’t have her, friendship is the next best thing. Because I actually like her. She’s strong and independent, funny as hell, and underneath that tough veneer lives a kind soul. She has her friends’ backs, always, and I count myself lucky to be included in the small group.
Our food arrives, and we dig in. I know I shouldn’t be eating all these carbs. My team is in deep preparation mode, and everyone needs to be in tip-top shape for the big game. But I don’t care right now. All that matters is making sure this night isn’t a total bust for Roxy. To show her how a man should treat her.
I’ll just work it all off tomorrow at the practice facility.
“So, how are you liking the house?” she asks after swallowing her bite of noodles and taking a sip of her wine.
“I love it,” I say. “It feels like home in a way that the condo never did. Plus I get to live next door to my bestie.”
I grin as a laugh bursts out of her.
“Your bestie?”
“Yep,” I say, popping the P.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says.
“Don’t you call Tessa your bestie?” I ask, tilting my head to study her.
“Yes, but…it sounds different coming out of your mouth.”
“Because I’m a man? How very sexist of you, Roxanne.”
Her chest rises as she sucks in a tiny, sharp breath. Her cheeks turn rosy, and she clears her throat before taking another bite of her pasta.
Interesting. Apparently, my use of her full name does…something to her. She likes it, but doesn’t want to like it. I’m just going to push that little tidbit deep down in my pocket and hold onto it for another time.
“How’s the side hustle coming along?” I ask, changing the subject to make her more comfortable.
I can see the tension drain out of her, and I know I’ve made the right choice. Whatever she was thinking about when I called her by her full name had her on edge, and bringing up her passion project was the perfect way to settle her.
“Pretty good,” she says with a smile. “I get a couple of orders per week for bachelorette and birthday parties, and the reviews on my website are always glowing. It doesn’t pay the bills yet, but it’s a start.”
“That’s great, Roxy,” I say. “And I can attest, your cookies are fucking delicious.”
Her eyes widen a bit, then narrow. “And how is that? I haven’t made any for you.”
“I helped Riggs clean up his yard after you and Tessa vandalized it with decorated cocks.”
“After they were stuck in the ground all night?” she asks, flinching back in disgust.
“Hey, there weren’t any ants on them or anything,” I say defensively.
“A dog could’ve come by and peed on them,” she shoots back.
“Well, if they’re that good after sitting out all night and getting peed on, I can’t wait to taste them fresh from the oven.”
She laughs, and it’s the most wonderful sound I’ve ever heard. Warmth builds in my chest as I sip my tea and bask in the beauty of her joy.
God, this woman.
We continue to chat and laugh through dinner, and when we finish, I insist on paying the tab. She thanks me with a warm smile, then I walk her out to her car. My eyes scan the lot for any sign of the meathead she met here, but it seems he’s long gone after realizing Roxy wasn’t going to be an easy lay.
Some of my anger resurfaces, but I push it back down as Roxy unlocks her car and turns to face me. I lean in closer, and she jerks back and forth awkwardly before giving me the hug I was going for. She pats my back as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my body.
If our relationship can’t be anything more than this, I’m damn sure going to make the most of it. After a couple of beats, she relaxes, melting into me and tightening her arms around my waist. We stand like that for too long, then I huff a sigh of regret as I loosen my hold and take a step back.
“Good night, Roxanne,” I say, my voice deep and husky.
“Good night, Blake,” she says, giving me a forced, cheeky grin.
I watch her get into her car before turning and walking toward my Jeep, a wide smile on my face. She called me Blake, making a joking reference to the night we met, when I called her Roxanne as she fell apart in my arms.
But that was a cover. An attempt to hide what she was really feeling. But I didn’t miss the way her chest rose, her nipples tightening beneath the sleek material of her dress. I didn’t miss the shifting of her weight as she rubbed her thighs together, either.
Roxy might have planted me firmly in the friend-zone, but that doesn’t mean she’s not tempted to cross the line.
I just have to show her that no matter her fears, I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.
And step one is to prove to her how right we are for each other. If anyone can do it, it’s me.