Prologue #2
“Fuck that,” Maya says flatly. “Fuck that so hard, Mads. You’ve been grinding it out for six years for this PhD.
You’ve done internships with all the major Pittsburgh sports teams, and you’ve published article after article arguing for better mental health support in professional sports.
You’re brilliant, articulate, and passionate, and there is no one on earth better equipped for this job than you are.
So tomorrow morning, you are going to wear the dress I hung in your closet earlier, and you are going to walk into that building like you own the damn place. No one deserves this more than you do.”
I take a sip of my margarita, relishing in the burn of the tequila and feeling a rush of power at Maya’s words because she’s right. I do deserve this. “Thanks, Maya. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
“Damn straight,” she says, taking a sip of her own margarita and glancing just past me, her eyes lighting up. “Don’t look now, Mads, but there’s a perfect specimen of tall, dark, and handsome over there who just sat down and is currently staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.”
“What?” I immediately whip my head around because I have absolutely no chill, and I suck in a breath when my gaze snags on a pair of the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
They’re attached to a man wearing dark jeans and a black button-down shirt, the fabric stretched over wide shoulders and the sleeves rolled up to showcase forearms so perfect they should be illegal.
His dark hair is tousled in an unintentional sort of way, falling across his forehead like he’s spent the night running his fingers through it, and I wonder why.
When our eyes lock again, his mouth quirks up in the smallest of smiles and my stomach swoops, because holy shit.
He is, undoubtedly, the most attractive man I have ever laid eyes on.
I turn back around slowly, a little breathless. “Shit,” I murmur.
“I told you not to look,” Maya says, her voice full of amusement.
“You’ve been my best friend for twenty-three years. You should know I don’t have that kind of self-control,” I hiss. “He caught me staring at him. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to lick his forearms,” I mutter.
Maya bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, I love this so much. A scorching hot one-night stand as a pre-first day present to yourself. A guy you meet in a bar, no names exchanged, just hot, dirty sex with a man who looks like he could throw you around the way you deserve. You have to do this.”
I roll my eyes. “Be so for real right now.”
“Maddy, honey, I have never been realer. You haven’t had sex in, like, eight months, and that man over there looks like the perfect candidate to sweep the cobwebs right off your vagina.”
I choke on a sip of my margarita. “Jesus, Maya. Eight months isn’t that long.”
“Eight months is forever.” Maya grins and rubs her hands together.
“I was so smart for booking waxes as part of our spa day yesterday. You’re all polished and shined, and your vagina is perfection.
That dress is amazing on you, and Dreamy McSmolder Eyes over there is still staring at you like he wants to devour you whole.
” Maya downs the rest of her drink and leans in, kissing my cheek.
“I’ve gotta run. First day of school tomorrow and fifth graders can’t teach themselves. ”
“Stop saying vagina and don’t you fucking dare leave me here alone,” I hiss, standing and taking the last sip of my drink before pushing the glass away.
As intrigued as I am by the stranger I can still feel staring at me, sitting alone in a bar is so far out of my comfort zone it may as well be on Mars. If Maya is leaving, so am I.
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be alone for long,” Maya says slyly, glancing behind me again.
CAM
Fuck, she’s leaving.
I get a shot of uncharacteristic desperation as I watch the redhead at the table across from me push her glass away and stand. I feel like a creeper, but I can’t take my eyes off her. From the second I sat down, it was like the entire bar disappeared and she was all I could see.
I’m captivated by her.
Her wide grin.
The bright red waves tumbling down her back.
The tight black dress hugging all her curves.
The way her heels dangle from her toes as she sits on the high stool, like they’re hurting her and she can’t bear to leave them on.
Her mossy green eyes when she turned around to look at me.
Her.
Bars are not my scene. Ever. As a single dad to a ten-year-old son and thirteen-year-old daughter and an offensive lineman for the Pittsburgh Renegades, I have too much on my plate to be the guy who picks up girls in bars.
Or ever. But once a month for as long as I can remember, my mom has booked me a night in a hotel, practically shoving me out of my house and taking control of my kids for the evening.
For relaxation, she says.
And usually, that’s exactly what I do. I read.
I sleep. I watch a million episodes of whatever show looks interesting.
But tonight, none of that appealed. Tonight, I was restless.
Tonight, I wandered out of my downtown hotel and straight into this bar.
In almost ten years of once-monthly hotel stays courtesy of my mom, I have never done anything like this, and as I watch the redhead, it seems almost like fate, if I believed in things like that.
Except she’s leaving.
But as I watch, the brunette she’s with puts a hand on her shoulder to push her back into her seat and tosses a glance over to me, giving me a subtle wink and a nod that have a smile spreading over my face.
Looks like I’ve got myself a wing woman.
Taking the last sip of my beer, I push up from my chair and cross the bar, coming up next to the redhead.
“Leaving so soon?”
I wince internally at my opening, and by the roll of the brunette’s eyes, I know it was exactly as bad as it sounded.
I really need to get out more.
“I am,” she says, picking up her bag from the table. “But my friend here isn’t quite ready to leave yet. Maybe you could keep her company while she has another drink?”
The redhead looks up, and my heart kicks up at the way her eyes track over me, studying me like I’m the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
The way she seems to catalogue every feature of my face.
I would think it was a disinterested perusal but for the flutter of her pulse in her throat.
The way her pupils dilate when our eyes lock.
Yeah, she’s interested, and that thought has need rushing through me, hot and fierce.
“Looks like you’re in good hands,” the brunette says, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “Take care of my girl,” she says to me, before sailing out of the bar with one final wave over her shoulder.
The redhead blows out a breath, dropping her head back in what seems like exasperation. “Sorry about that. I love her but she’s…a lot. I’m going to head out too. It was nice to meet you. Kind of.”
She starts to stand, but I lay my hand over hers, stopping her.
The crackle of electricity where our skin touches has her eyes snapping to mine, and oh yeah, there’s something here.
No way am I letting this woman walk away.
“Sorry, I can’t let you do that. Your friend told me to take care of you, and I never break a promise. ”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I didn’t hear you make a promise.”
I lay my hand on my heart. “You may not have heard it out loud, but in here, it was the most sacred promise I’ve ever made.”
She laughs, and the uninhibited sound makes me grin. “Just out of curiosity, when was the last time you talked to a woman?”
I chuckle, running a finger over the back of her hand, loving the way she shivers. “Why? Am I bad at it?”
She laughs again, reaching into her purse and taking out a bag of peanut butter M&M’s, tearing it open and offering it to me before tossing a handful into her mouth. “You really, really are.”
“Sorry,” I say a little sheepishly, grabbing a couple of M&M’s. “It’s just that you’re really pretty, and I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since I walked into the bar, and you just pulled my favorite candy out of your purse, and now I think maybe I need to ask you to be mine forever.”
She grins, her eyes sparkling. “I don’t know about the forever thing, but you can share my candy with me. There’s more where that came from.”
She lifts open her purse, and I laugh when I see at least ten snack-sized bags of different flavors of M&M’s. “So…you have a little bit of an obsession is what you’re saying?”
She smiles, grabbing a couple more candies from the open bag. “Something like that. My mom was the one with the original obsession, so I grew up with M&M’s everywhere.” She shrugs, tossing a few pieces into her mouth. “The habit kind of stuck, and now I can’t live without them.”
Before I can answer, a server comes over and sets down a margarita and a bottle of the beer I was drinking earlier. “From your friend,” she says with a smile before sliding a couple of napkins onto the table and walking away.
“Jesus Christ, Maya,” she mutters.
“Everything okay?” I ask, studying her, lifting the beer and taking a sip.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s fine. It’s just my friend Maya being…Maya. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, but we are opposites in literally every way. Like, I told her I wanted to have one drink and go home since I have kind of a big day tomorrow and she…”
“Left you alone at a bar, asked a strange man to take care of you, and sent you more drinks just in case the ones you already had weren’t enough?”