2. Charisse
Charisse
T he dueling pianists face each other across the stage banging out a lively rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama" while everyone crowded into the space crows along with the lyrics. I sip my water while I wait for Dominic and his teammates to show up.
“You sure you don’t want anything else to drink?” The pretty, petite bartender with heavy winged eyeliner spins bottles, serves up a round of shots, and pops her bubblegum in my direction.
“Nah, I’ll be up there singing in a bit.” I gesture to the stage. “Can’t be drinking anything too hot or too cold. Maybe after.”
“Just flag me down when you need me, honey.”
Yeah, I’m probably going to need that drink by the end of the night. Maybe more than few to work up the nerve to ask Dominic if he’d be willing to do me a favor.
Like, a big, life-changing favor.
I chew on my lip and glance at the bartender as she pours another shot. Having an infusion of liquid courage doesn’t sound like such a bad idea now.
Especially considering the fact that if everything goes according to plan, I won’t be having any alcohol for the better part of a year. Maybe more, if the harrowing stories of sleep deprivation and breastfeeding woes aren’t greatly exaggerated.
It’s fine. I can handle it.
Well, New Charisse can. After coming to the realization that I’d flitted from one relationship to another without ever taking time to just be me, I quietly ended my last dead-end one and did a ton of soul-searching while I’d been away on tour.
I concluded I’d been living my life trying to follow the prescribed path my parents set out for me. The only exception being things that counted as my passions.
Like music. I chased that dream even though they hadn’t fully approved, and while I’m not yet a solo recording artist, I still carved a career out of it. Why couldn’t I do the same with the rest of my life goals? Make them happen on my own terms?
So, while Old Charisse tried to do things “the right way”—find a nice man, get him to marry me, and have his babies—New Charisse is no longer settling for the good-on-paper guys I’ve dated before and the less-than-satisfying sex I’ve had all my life. New Charisse is out to create her dream life on her own terms.
And damn well enjoy it.
That means New Charisse is focused on one thing.
Motherhood.
It sounds drastic, I know.
Ever since I turned thirty, the proverbial biological clock inside me has been ticking. Four years on, I can’t keep waiting for the right person to come along anymore.
I want a baby.
Thanks to modern science, I don’t need a man to help me get it.
But as I learned from my appointment with the fertility clinic, apparently, I need money.
Like, a lot of money.
It’s easier—and cheaper—to see if I can make it happen naturally. After all, how hard could it be to get pregnant on purpose?
Can’t be difficult judging by the way my mom used to bug her eyes out at me and hold up her finger while warning, “It only takes one time! Tingnan mo ang Ate Cora mo. ”
Ate Cora, my older cousin, got pregnant after her first time having unprotected sex with her boyfriend. To hear my mom tell the story, it was the worst thing ever. But Ate Cora slays at being a mom, and I’m ready. I’ve waited long enough.
And truthfully, I’m not getting any younger.
I finish off my glass of water and turn away from the bar just in time to see half a dozen hockey players invade the bar. There are a few gasps of recognition as the crowd parts for them. My eyes flit over them, some I know and some I don’t, but my breath catches when Dominic comes into view. Standing head and shoulders—quite literally—above most, he picks his way through the crowd, nodding as people clap him on the shoulder and congratulate him on tonight’s win.
For a second, I can’t help but admire how at-home he is in his own skin. People flock to him, wanting to bask in his effortless self-acceptance, openness, and beauty. He’s always had this presence, but now, knowing that I’m on the verge of blowing open the boundaries of our friendship by asking him to do decidedly more-than-friendly things to me, I let my eyes drink in his form in ways I’d tried hard to resist before.
There’s his easy, broad smile, full of charm and secret promises. His strong shoulders straining against the gray jacket hanging open over a dressy white button-down that clings to his muscles. His big hands sweep over his stylishly coiffed dark hair. There’s his defined jawline, high cheekbones, and straight, patrician never-been-broken nose. The combined effect of his beauty makes my stomach flip.
He walks with the air of a cocky, charismatic, bad boy hockey player who’s always had his pick of partners. But despite his widespread popularity, the reason I’ve cherished his friendship for so long is because underneath his handsome exterior lies a heart as big as the Pacific.
To me, he’s the boy that defended me from the bullies on the playground. He’s the teen who risked driving through a snowstorm to comfort me when my first boyfriend broke my heart. He’s the man who regularly surprised me by showing up to support me at various gigs—big and small, whenever our crazy schedules allowed—just to whoop and holler for me, louder than anyone else.
My heart rate accelerates as he draws closer and locks eyes with me. A flash of heat rockets through me when his gaze drops, raking over my outfit and each of my curves before coming back to rest on my face.
Yeah, I made a little effort. After all, I’m going to ask the man to father my babies.
Well. One baby. I’m not greedy.
I swallow hard, a trembling smile on my lips as he lifts his head and those piercing gray eyes of his connect with mine. A huge, lopsided smile splits his face as he hurries over, nudging people aside to get to me.
He scoops me up into his strong arms, squeezing me tight and settling for a side-to-side sway instead of a full spin. I squeal, laughing and gripping his shoulders for balance. Have they always been this wide? This firm?
“Reece’s Pieces! What a surprise to find you sneaking into the third period. Must’ve been why I got the nod. You always were my lucky charm. What are you doing here?”
“Took the first flight home to get here for your birthday!” I say, giddy in his arms. He always gave the best hugs, and I cling tight, pressing the curves of my body against the solid planes of his. The clean soap scent clinging to his skin curls up my nostrils, and my eyes drift shut. Everything’s going to be alright so long as Dominic holds me like this.
It has to be.
“Thought you had another couple of weeks left on your tour?”
His body is so lean, so hard pressed against mine, and I feel a new awareness shiver through me. When he slides me down the length of him and I teeter on the tips toes of my high-heeled boots, my nipples tighten to points and I wonder if he can feel it.
Ugh. I can’t get carried away.
It doesn’t matter that I’ll be asking him to sleep with me. I have to remember that he’s my friend and whatever might happen between us will be strictly business.
Or, well, mostly business. I can’t deny that it’d be interesting to get a taste of what the league's most notorious playboy is like in bed.
“The tour ended last week, but I was supposed to go on vacation with Neal after.”
“Oh, yeah. Where’s Dr. Do Good anyway?” He cranes his neck, searching the bar for my last boyfriend.
I wave a breezy hand in the air. “Another one bites the dust.”
“Yeah? Shit. Sorry to hear that. You okay?” He doesn’t look sorry in the least, but his brows snap together, and his eyes bore into mine. “What’d he do? Do I need to drop the gloves again tonight?”
Some things never change, and it makes me smile. I place a hand on his arm to soothe him. “No. I’m fine. Things just weren’t… It wasn’t right between us.”
He doesn’t look convinced, and he crosses his arms over his massive chest, muscles bunching as a couple of his teammates rock up and offer him a beer.
“What’s up, Charisse?” Gavin nods in my direction. “Want a drink?”
“I’m good, but thanks. I’m heading up to sing in a bit.”
Dominic takes the drink, but keeps his eyes and his frown aimed at me. “Hang on, you were away on tour for four months and come back without a boyfriend—a detail you conveniently forgot to mention until now—and all you have to say is that it wasn’t right?”
“I did a lot of soul-searching while I was out there. Thought I could do with working on myself, you know? Came to the conclusion that I ought to take a page out of your playbook.”
Dominic chokes on his beer, coughing hard enough to go red in the face.
“What’d you do? Leave a broken heart in each of the European cities you toured through?” Gavin snorts.
Diego laughs while Dominic sends him a withering look.
“No!” I protest. “I’m saying I think I’ve been going about it all wrong. I’m going to quit trying to make a relationship happen and focus more on what makes me happy.”
“Lots of orgasms?” Diego blurts, then lifts his hand up in apology when Dominic’s eyes flash at him. “Sorry, dude, I couldn’t resist.”
I laugh along with everyone else, the sound of it ringing tinny and hollow in my ears, but the fact that Dominic’s rumored to be an avid lover is actually one of the reasons I’m hoping he’ll be able to help with my predicament.
“I… I wouldn’t know. I haven’t experienced that with someone else.” My ears burn and the second the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. They all stare at me open-mouthed with shock, and I know now beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I’ve said was definitely The Wrong Thing.
“What, never? ” Gavin blinks.
“Nope.”
“Y-you’ve never… Um.” Diego scratches his temple while Gavin tips the rest of his beer down his throat. “You know what? I’m going to get another drink.” He nudges Gavin in the ribs. “You want one?”
Then they disappear so fast, I’m surprised I don’t see smoke billowing behind them as they go.
Until now, I’d just accepted that it was a quirk of my body, but it couldn’t be more obvious that this was not the norm. In a flash, those outsider feelings I’d had as a kid for not being like everyone else rears its ugly head.
And true to form, Dominic leans in, sidling up next to me at the bar and bumping my shoulder in that familiar way of his.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Every body is different, and your lovers should’ve been more considerate of your needs.” Dominic’s voice is gentle and my heart thuds in my chest as I glance up at him. There’s no judgment or pity in those gray depths, but there’s a banked intensity burning in them that I can’t quite read. “I knew there was a reason I never liked any of them.”
He grins at me when I let out a little laugh. Then, with that easy, flirtatious smile playing on his lips, Dominic says, “For the record, if you ever wanted a little help in that department, I’m available.”
My heart leaps into my throat as I search his face.
Is he joking? Is he serious?
Before I can say anything else, my college friend Archer finishes playing the keys with a flourish and signals for me from the piano.
“Alright, people, I’ve received word that some members of the Soltero Beach Scorpions Hockey Club are in the house!” Archer’s announcement is met with raucous applause. “And a little birdie named Charisse told me that they’re here celebrating a birthday.”
“No, you didn’t.” Dominic’s eyes widen and his head swivels over to me.
“Oh, I definitely did.”
Archer waves at us, calling us forward. “You might’ve seen Charisse on stage if you’ve ever been to a Gia Golding concert. Anyone?” More screams. “Yeah, so you know the girl’s got pipes. Let’s give a warm Bachelor Beach welcome to her and the birthday boy, Scorpions goaltender, Dominic ‘Domino’ Davies! Come on up to the stage, you two!”
“Aw, shit.” Dominic slams his beer back as I grab hold of his hand and yank him forward.
We make our way to the stage, and I quickly confirm the setlist before stepping onto that matte black floor. In the spotlight, I automatically feel my worries melt away. All that matters now is the performance I’m going to deliver and the energy the crowd brings. I should be nervous, but all I feel is alive with a thrill racing through my veins.
Then I turn and catch sight of Dominic standing stiffly in front of the microphone, a blush staining his cheeks and a bashful look on his handsome face.
“What’s up, Bachelor Beach?” I call into the mic and wait for the shouts to subside. “You might know the Scorpions won tonight’s game courtesy of this guy right here and a few clutch goals from those guys over there.” I point to the bar where the other Scorpions have gathered and wait for the cheers to die down again. “But you probably don’t know is that this SB Bachelor is turning thirty-freakin’-five tomorrow! As his best friend, I felt it was my duty to bring him out tonight and relive some of our days growing up in Minnesota, where we’d spend winters skating on backyard ponds and our summers singing our hearts out on my parents’ home karaoke system. This one was always Dom’s favorite. Hope you’ll help us out and sing along.”
Then the opening strains of "Pour Some Sugar On Me" start, and Dominic laughs, rubbing at his eyebrow and watching me as I peel off my leather jacket. A hunger lights up his gray eyes as I open the song, adopting my on-stage persona as a temptress while he stands by the mic, watching.
He joins in on the chorus but lets me work the crowd, getting them to clap and dance and shout. Then I make my way to him, hips swaying while his gaze roams over my body. I dance around him, fingers trailing over his muscles as I nudge him onto a stool.
Still singing, with the whoops and hollers sounding in my ear, I slip my hands over his chest and claw at the fabric. Two buttons pop loose, making people scream even louder as my touch runs down his abs. I try not to notice the way his muscles twitch under my fingertips while a heated thrill ripples through my core.
I turn and back my ass right up against him. He garbles the bridge when his hands settle on my hips and I rock against something decidedly thick and hard.
Ohmygod.
Is that—
My gaze flits to his, and he stares right back through heavy-lidded eyes, unashamed as the lights and music pulse around us. Something electric passes between us, and I nearly stumble through the last part of the song.
Dominic saves me, grabbing my mic and singing with me through the rest even as he hauls me into his lap and that hard ridge stays nestled between my cheeks. Heat blazes up my neck, making my vocal cords tight, but I sing on.
When the song ends, our eyes are locked on each other’s, and the cheers don’t permeate the bubble we’re suspended in.
Then I pitch forward and plant a kiss right on that cocky, tilted mouth of his.