Jilted

11. Wilder

11

WILDER

“Well, it sucks,” I said. “But I think you’re making the right decision.”

Andrew sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes if I didn’t come clean. And she deserves honesty.”

The following morning, our plane had finally leveled off to cruising altitude, so the crew got up to move about the cabin again. One of the flight attendants, Mia, cast a flirty smile in my direction as she passed.

Andrew noticed, too. “I take it you know her?”

“I take this flight a lot.”

My buddy side-eyed me. He knew the answer without me having to spell it out, but just in case he didn’t, Mia walked over. I was seated in the window seat. She leaned in, giving me and my buddy a clear view down her blouse as she set the drink I hadn’t asked for in front of me.

She smiled. “Staying at the St. Regis this trip?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I have business in a different area.”

“Oh. Okay.” She stood, her smile morphing from flirty to forced, and rested a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Can I get you anything else, hun?”

He lifted his still-half-full Bloody Mary. “I’m good. Thanks.”

We both watched her walk to the galley area a few rows up. Andrew shook his head. “I thought you said you were staying at the St. Regis?”

I met his eyes. “I am.”

“Gotcha.” He sipped his drink. “Everything okay with you? It’s not like you to turn down a nice offer like that.”

I sighed. “Was I that bad?”

“What are you talking about?”

“In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve gotten invitations from three women I’ve slept with before.”

Andrew stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “Aww, you poor baby. You’re single and got offered sex from three hot women. Meanwhile, I fucked up the rest of my life. Your life really sucks.”

I chuckled. “I’m serious. Have I been that big of a whore?”

“You once slept with a woman you met at a bar on a Friday night, and the next day she called and asked if you would sleep with her friend who needed cheering up. And you did.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let the woman be miserable?”

Andrew smiled. “You’re a whore, my friend. But no judgment here. Especially not now. Besides, it’s not like you to pretend to be something you’re not.”

I frowned.

My buddy’s forehead creased. “Seriously? What’s going on with you?”

Of all my friends, Andrew knew me the best. He was also brutally honest. I shifted in my seat to see his expression. “Do you think I have relationship potential? I mean, one that lasts more than two months and involves more than just fucking each other’s brains out?”

Andrew shrugged. “We’ve been in one for, what, twenty-five years?”

“I don’t mean a friendship.”

“I know what you’re asking. But I don’t think the criteria are that different. A relationship of any kind is built on honesty, trust, and open communication. We have that. So you clearly have the ability to share those things with someone.”

“That’s being a friend, not a boyfriend.”

“The only thing that’s really different is the sex, being monogamous.”

I pointed to my buddy. “That’s the part I’m worried about.”

“That’s only because you haven’t met a woman who holds your interest. Once you do, it won’t be hard.” He closed his eyes. “And I realize that sounds ridiculously hypocritical considering the reason I’m flying home, but it’s the truth. I might be the relationship guy of the two of us, and you’re the whore, but I know you’d never cheat after…”

I took a deep breath. “I think I met someone. She’s got a stranglehold on my interest. I can’t fucking think of much else these days.”

Andrew’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Never thought I’d see the day. What’s her name?”

“Sloane.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s smart. Beautiful, with auburn hair and a great figure. And she calls me out on my crap.”

He grinned. “I like her already.”

“We have great chemistry, and not just the sexual kind. There’s an emotional and intellectual chemistry, too. Like, I want to listen to her talk, and when she tells me shit, I feel it in my gut. I don’t even really understand it.”

“That all sounds great. But why do I feel like there’s more coming, like I’m waiting for the big red flags to start waving around in the wind?”

“Oh, there are definitely red flags.”

“She married?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. But she was recently engaged. The dickhead left her at the altar. She’s like you, has only ever had serious relationships. And she works for one of my dad’s holdings—a bridal magazine—and she’s got an obsession with weddings. Her family is fourth-generation NYPD, and they also own a cop bar that has so many people carrying they could fight a small war.”

“Jesus Christ, Wilder. Why is everything with you go big or go home? You’re gonna get your ass shot if you fuck with this woman.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Does she know who you are? That you don’t have the most stable track record when it comes to dating?”

“I haven’t hidden anything from her.”

“And she wants to give it a shot anyway?”

“Well, I guess that’s also a problem.”

Andrew’s brows pulled tight. “What do you mean?”

“She hasn’t agreed to give anything a shot with me. She’s on what she calls a ‘man moratorium.’ Decided not to date anyone for a year after her engagement ended.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Six months.”

“So you’re going to do what for the next six months?”

I frowned. “I sort of told her I’d wait for her.”

“Wait for her where? You can’t mean you told her you’d be celibate for that long.”

My shoulders slumped. “I did, yeah.”

Andrew’s head fell back in a fit of laughter. He cracked himself up so hard, the jerk snorted a few times.

“Alright, alright. It’s not that funny, jackass.”

He wiped tears from his eyes. “What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sex?”

I shrugged. “Maybe a few weeks.”

As if on cue, Mia approached a passenger in the row in front of us, seated across the aisle. She bent, practically shoving her heart-shaped ass in our faces. We both took a long look before Andrew’s eyes slanted to meet mine again.

“Gonna be a long six months. Good luck, buddy.”

The following morning, I pulled up outside the brownstone a half hour early. When I’d invited Harry to come to the Rutgers game on our drive home last week, I hadn’t thought to get his number, and now I needed to be at the arena a half hour early. I could’ve gotten Sloane’s number from my dad’s office and called her to get it, but I’d only gotten the message about the change in meeting time an hour ago, at 6 a.m. Rather than waking Sloane to reach her dad, I figured I’d take my chances and just show up early. Harry seemed like the kind of guy who would be ready to go.

At the top of the brownstone steps, there were four bell choices. The bottom one read H. CARRICK. I went to press it, but the names above it caught my attention. Three of the four had the last name Carrick, including the top one, which read S. CARRICK. Did Sloane live here, too? Her whole family, maybe?

As cheesy as it sounded, I felt my pulse pick up. I grumbled to myself, trying to shake off feeling like I was in some sort of lovesick teen movie. When it didn’t work, I said fuck it and pressed the button for S. CARRICK. Like my buddy Andrew said, go big or go home .

But after two minutes, there still was no answer. That turned the excitement I’d felt into something different— jealousy . Did she sleep somewhere else last night? When I didn’t answer the door in the morning, it was usually because I’d been busy the night before and hadn’t made it home. But —I talked myself down—that was me, not Sloane. She was probably out for a damn run, or the bell was broken. Or maybe she didn’t even live here. Yeah, that’s it.

I needed to get a move on, so I sucked it up and pressed H. CARRICK. A loud buzzer sounded back, unlocking the outer door. I opened it and walked in through a double set of doors. Harry stepped into the hallway… in his bathrobe. Shit.

“Hey,” I said. “Sorry I’m so early. I didn’t have your number. I was supposed to meet someone at the arena during the game to talk about a player, but he texted this morning and pushed the time up.”

“Let me get my ass dressed then.” Harry waved me into his apartment. “Come on in.”

He disappeared into another room before I could shut the door behind me, and yelled from wherever he must’ve been getting dressed. “There’s coffee in the pot, if you want some. Help yourself.”

“I’m good. Thanks. I had a cup at the hotel and have a to-go cup in the car waiting. Got one for you, too, in case you want it.”

He popped his head out from a doorway down the hall. “This is already the best date I’ve had in years.”

I laughed. “Hey, uh, does Sloane live here, too?”

“Yep. Fourth floor. My son bought this place a few years back. He lives on two, and I’m down here. Got one real tenant on the third.”

I nodded. “I think I accidentally pressed her bell at first. Hope I didn’t wake her…”

“Takes more than a little bell to wake that girl on the weekends. She likes to sleep in. She has a lot of energy when she’s awake, but she can knock out until two in the afternoon.” Harry paused. “Damn it, that reminds me. I gotta return her key to the bar before we go. I borrowed it because my son borrowed mine, and I never gave hers back. She goes into the bar before it opens on Saturdays to do the books.”

I noticed a key sitting on the kitchen counter, one with a CARRICK’S PUB key chain. “You want me to return it while you get dressed?”

“If you don’t mind, that would be great. But I gotta warn you, it’s a four-story walk-up, and she’s cranky in the morning.”

I smiled. “No problem.”

“Key should be on the counter. You might need to pound on the door to get her to wake up.”

“Got it. I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”

I took the stairs two at a time, blood back to pumping excitedly though my veins. I told myself my heart was racing because I was running, not because I was a giant wuss-bag excited to see a girl. But when I reached the top floor, I might’ve fixed my hair a little. Whatever . Fuck it.

I brought my knuckles to the door and gave it a good, strong knock. There was only her apartment up here, so any sound I heard would mean she was awake. But there wasn’t a peep. Damn , Harry wasn’t joking . She was a solid sleeper.

I knocked again, this time putting some muscle behind it. The door shook, and after a couple of seconds, I heard grumbling. “Alright! Alright! I’m coming.”

The door swung open with the same anger I’d heard in her voice. She probably had a scowl to match, too, but I was too busy looking other places to notice—like at her creamy thighs and the piercing nipples saluting the morning. Sloane had on a threadbare Backstreet Boys T-shirt, sans pants, with a hem that barely brushed the top of her thighs. Also, definitely no bra.

Her eyes widened. “Wilder? What are you doing here?”

I smiled and looked her up and down. “Improving my morning, apparently.”

“But, but… how do you know where I live?”

“I didn’t until a few minutes ago. I came to pick up your dad and saw all the names on the buzzers.”

Her nose scrunched up. “Why are you picking up my dad?”

“He didn’t mention that he was going to the game today?”

“He did. Well, he said you had given him a ticket to a rugby scrimmage or something. But I guess he failed to mention you were his date .”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the hem of her shirt. I just wanted to glimpse what kind of underwear she had on . Fuck . Maybe she’s got nothing on under there. I should toss the key in the air and make her lift her arms to catch it.

Sloane looked down. “Oh God. I’m not dressed.”

“I think you look fucking great .”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lip twitched upward. “So you’re dating my dad because I won’t go out with you?”

I leaned in. “ Yet . You won’t go out with me yet .”

She might’ve been saying one thing, but I didn’t miss the goose bumps that prickled up her arms when I got close. Her body wasn’t in denial like the rest of her. I would’ve loved to see how far I could push, but I didn’t want her dad to think I was doing anything shady up here. Plus, I did need to hit the road.

I held out the bar key. “I came to give you this for your dad.”

She took it, but I didn’t let go.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” I asked.

“Wilder…”

“Lunch?”

She smiled. “I’m working at the bar.”

“If you weren’t?”

She chuckled and swiped the key from my hand. “Then I probably would be sleeping through lunch, if you weren’t up here waking me.”

I winked. “That’s not a no.”

“Take good care of my dad, Wilder.”

“You got it. And I’ll see you soon.”

“I can’t wait to see when that is, since you seem to show up when I least expect it.”

“So, which one are you interested in?” Harry gestured to the field.

I pointed. “Number twenty-two, Leo Goncalo. He’s a walk-on, didn’t even play in high school or in an organized league. Only experience was playing with his friends on weekends. But he hit the genetic lottery for size and speed, and he has the balls of a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

Harry lifted his hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun to watch the action on the field. “Other people interested in him?”

I nodded. “That’s why I asked his dad to meet me today. Dad’s a tax lawyer, but he’s acting as his agent, too. Not smart, if you ask me, but trust is an issue when too many people are suddenly knocking at your door, so I get it. When agents and scouts started lining up two deep at my high school games, all talking shit about the other teams, I had no idea who to trust, either.”

“I bet.”

“Leo already has offers, and I don’t even have a team yet to extend an offer to join. So my chances aren’t great, but I wanted to let them know I’m interested and what my plans are if the vote comes through next week.”

Rutgers scored, and the crowd went crazy. It reminded me of my college days. After that, we were both glued to the field, cheering Leo on. At halftime, we went up to the club lounge and had a beer.

“So tell me,” Harry said. “Are you interested in my daughter, or you just like taking bored old men out?”

I smiled. “I like Sloane, yes. But I would’ve invited you even if she wasn’t your daughter.”

“Why is that?”

I shrugged. “My dad taught me to always do right by the people who put their life on the line to protect us. Buy a cop a beer at the bar, pick up the restaurant check for an army private home on leave.”

Harry nodded. “I like your dad.”

“We had a tough go for a while after he and my mom divorced, but he’s always given me good advice, especially on what’s important in life.”

Harry sipped his beer, which seemed like a difficult task with the way his hand shook. He noticed me looking. “My daughter’s always trying to get me to use a straw. But it’s hard to look tough sipping beer out of a straw, don’t you think?”

I laughed. “Probably.”

“She’s bought me a dozen special cups—ones with discreet lids inside, handles that rotate to support the tremors—but I prefer the fill-three-quarters method.”

I shrugged. “Whatever works.”

Harry set his beer on the bar. “I never liked that Josh.”

“Who?”

“Sloane’s ex.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t like him from the beginning. A few months after they started dating, Sloane told me she wanted me to get to know him better. So I took him to the gun range for some target practice one afternoon, a place where a lot of cops go. Dumbass thought it was a good place to talk about gun control.” Harry shook his head. “He’s lucky I didn’t bring my gun to the church with the shit he pulled.”

“It’s gotta be tough for Sloane to work for a bridal magazine after that.”

Harry nodded. “That day meant a lot to her. My wife got sick when Sloane was only five. Ovarian cancer. She fought it for two years like a trooper, but in the end it was everywhere. Lily stopped treatment so she could enjoy the last few months she had left. I took leave from work and thought we’d travel and do things before it was her time. But Lily just wanted to be home with her family. Her kids and me were everything to her. I asked her to at least come up with one special thing she wanted to do. She took a week and thought about it and then told me she wanted to marry me all over again.”

I felt an ache in my chest. “Wow.”

Harry looked away as he continued. “So I threw her the biggest, best second wedding I could plan in two weeks. Even got Sloane a matching white dress to wear on the big day. She stood up at the altar as the maid of honor, and my boys were my best men. It was the happiest day of our lives, even more special than the first time we did it because we were older and wiser, and it meant something that we’d still choose each other after all our ups and downs. It was magical. Sloane smiled from ear to ear all night, and she couldn’t stop talking about it when it was over. But pretty soon after, things went downhill. Fast. My Lily died three weeks later. We all took it hard, but Sloane was real bad. The boys had each other and me—but it wasn’t the same with her being the only girl.” Harry took a deep breath. “Anyway, after that, whenever Sloane was feeling down, she’d throw herself a pretend wedding—even married the dog a few times, which her brothers still tease her about.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say, except that I’d better not ever cross paths with that Josh for taking something that meant so much away from her.”

Harry smiled. “The bottom line is, you seem like a decent-enough guy. But when my Sloane loves, she loves hard. She’s had a lot of loss and letdown in her life, and some of that is still healing. I’m not telling you to keep away, because my daughter is a grown-ass woman and has a good head on her shoulders. But I’m asking you to think twice about what you want before you chase her too hard, because I don’t want her hurt again.”