Chapter 1
brIDGET
Numbers are easy to interpret.
Numbers don’t hide behind fancy words and pretty lies.
Numbers won’t break my heart.
I treat men like a number. You, sir, are good for one night only. Good for two fingers of whiskey and a double orgasm. Ten inches is way too fucking many if I want to walk away with my cervix intact. I’ll settle for a sixty-nine if he knows how to use his tongue.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the company of men—I just don’t get emotions involved.
I didn’t get this far in life by letting feelings make my decisions.
The right man can provide me with the release I need when my own hands and toys aren’t enough, which is quite often lately.
I might be open to the idea of a full-time fuck buddy, depending on his skills, but really, I just need something to get me through the next few weeks.
Work is kicking my ass, causing my cortisol levels to fuck with my mood and sleep.
As the CFO of a major supplement company, I’m responsible for making sure our finances are in order as we work to acquire a smaller brand.
Tonight, however, I’m only looking for a good time, someone who will help me temporarily forget the weight on my shoulders.
The pulsating bass reverberates through the club, each beat syncing with the erratic rhythm of colorful strobe lights.
I sip my bourbon, the smoky flavor overwhelming my senses as Becka and I navigate through a throng of writhing young bodies on the dance floor.
The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and anticipation, a heady mix that assaults my senses.
“Bridget, look at all these hot, young men!” Becka shouts over the music. “I think I have T-shirts older than most of the people in here.”
“Damn, you need to get a new wardrobe if that’s the case,” I joke with a wink.
Becka laughs, her eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for potential candidates for me.
I know she’s not looking for herself; I’m pretty sure her college sweetheart-turned-husband Robert would have a problem with that.
“Seriously, when did you become a cougar?”
“I’m just looking for a good time. I need to not think for a night, preferably while underneath a man who knows his way around the female anatomy,” I admit, my words almost drowned out by the pounding beats.
“I’d bet a hundred bucks that most of this club has no clue what a cassette tape is, let alone how to use it, so good luck assuming they would know where the clit is.
Why did I let you talk me into coming here?
These aren’t men, these are boys. Can we go somewhere else where I don’t feel like the adultiest adult in the room?
” Becka complains, her voice shouting above the music.
I’m so done with men my age. They’re all either married, wanting to get married and start a family, divorced for good reason, or the weird leftovers you leave in your fridge for weeks and don’t want to touch. “The younger they are, the longer the stamina.”
“You’re really committed to this whole ‘no strings attached’ thing, huh?”
I shoot her a defiant look as a man slides between us, grabbing my hips while pulling me into him to dance. “It’s just a bit of fun. No complications, no heartbreak.”
“What? I can barely hear you!” Becka cups her ear as the music swells in a crescendo.
“I need to get fucked!” I yell, and, of course, that’s precisely when the DJ decides to change songs, allowing everyone around us to hear my candid admission, including the man grinding his pelvis on me. Becka shoots me a raised eyebrow, a mixture of concern and amusement in her eyes.
“I think I can help with that,” the man croons into my ear as his fingers dig into my hips.
“Move along, Romeo!” Becka shoos my dance partner away and pulls me by the hand toward a booth in the back, away from the subwoofers and grinding bodies.
She squeezes my hand, her concern evident.
“Bridget, you deserve more than a temporary escape. I thought this was just a phase. You’ve never been in a serious relationship as long as I’ve known you, but I’m starting to think that you’re deflecting a bigger issue. ”
“I’m fine,” I say firmly, though the words feel hollow even to me. At this point, I’m not sure what it’ll take to fix what’s broken inside me.
Becka arches her eyebrow. “You’re not, but I’ll support you, even if it means navigating through a sea of boys who think Meat Loaf is just a dish their moms make them.” She motions for me to lead the way back to the dance floor.
As we make our way through the pulsating crowd, my eyes stay fixed on the ground, watching my steps. I’ve had some near-misses in these heels before, and falling on my ass isn’t an effective way to pick up a one-night stand.
“There’s nowhere to fucking sit, bro. Wait, I think that booth is open.” Those are the last words I hear before a hard body slams into me, knocking me sideways.
“Shit, Bridget!” Becka yelps as a strong arm encircles my waist, catching me almost horizontally before righting me again.
“Careful there, Grace, we don’t need you breaking anything.” A pair of emerald eyes lock on mine as his lips pull into a crooked smile. His hand lingers on my waist, and my skin tingles on the spot before he lets me go, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.
“My name isn’t Grace,” I snap back, my words sharper than intended. I pull at my dress, smoothing down the fabric.
“What, Grace isn’t short for Graceful?”
I stare at him blankly.
“Sorry. It was my lame attempt at a joke.” He runs his hand through his chestnut locks, pushing them back. A hint of something—embarrassment?—flushes his tan cheeks before the crooked smile returns, along with a single dimple.
“First, you knock me over, then you insult me with sarcastic nicknames. Your mom clearly raised a gentleman,” I retort.
Despite the irritation, I can’t deny he’s hot as fuck with that dimple, but I’ll be damned if I let him know that.
And I don’t need rescuing, just a pair of shoes with a smaller heel.
His grin falters, and an emotion I can’t quite place screws up his features briefly before the smile returns.
“I didn’t bump into you, that was my friend Alyx.
He was in a rush to grab the booth behind you, but I apologize on his behalf.
And I’m sorry for the joke. I was raised better, I promise.
Can I buy you and your friend a drink to make it up to you? ”
I glance at Alyx, happily planted in the booth. Hell, Alyx is cute too, with brown eyes, dark brown hair, and light mocha-colored skin covered in tattoos. He flashes a panty-dropping smile before turning to flag down a server.
“I’m Ethan, by the way. Since we’ve established that you aren’t Grace, do I get the pleasure of learning your actual name?”
“Her name’s Bridget, and I’m Becka, and we’d love a drink,” my traitorous friend pipes up. Great, now I need to add find a new best friend to my ever-growing to-do list. It’s a shame. It took me years to break this one in.
“I have a good feeling about him,” she whispers in my ear.
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Ethan smiles again, and that damn dimple makes another appearance. His smile is as smooth as his skin. He’s got to be in his twenties, but it’s hard to tell if it’s early twenties or late because of the lighting in the club.
Becka turns toward the circular booth and slides in next to Alyx as I follow behind her. Ethan sits beside me, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind me. His clean scent fills my nostrils, and there’s something familiar about it that I can’t place.
The server comes by, and Ethan hands over his card to open a tab. Clearly, he’s old enough to drink, so I’ll call that a win. “What would you ladies like? It’s on me.”
“I’ll take a gin and tonic, and Bridget will take a bourbon neat,” Becka says.
“Put it on my tab,” Alyx says to the server as he hands Ethan back his card. “It’s the least I can do since I’m the ass who bumped into you and your pretty friend.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but her pretty friend is only the wing-woman.” Becka points at her wedding band.
“My bad. Can’t blame me for trying, though,” he says, batting his lashes.
“If this is your game, I have to admit it’s not bad.” I point at Alyx. “You bump into the target so your friend here can catch them as they fall and swoop in like Prince Charming.”
“Shit, sorry. We’ve been circling like vultures all night, trying to find a table. My bad.” His eyes look so sincere, and it’s hard to believe either of them did anything intentional.
“Your game must be off if you’re going to clubs only to sit down all night. We can get away with it because of our fashionable footwear choices. What’s your excuse?” I ask.
“Feisty! I like it.” Alyx flashes that grin again. “I’ve been trying to get my man Ethan here to come out with me, but it’s like trying to bathe a stray cat who fights you at every turn.”
Ethan and Alyx exchange glances, and I can tell they are having a telepathic conversation before Ethan chuckles and turns to me. “Alyx exaggerates. This isn’t really my scene. I just prefer a quiet night in most nights.”
“Or every night,” Alyx mutters right as the server drops off our drinks.
I raise an eyebrow at Ethan. “A quiet night in, huh?”
“I find it hard to make a real connection in places like this,” he confesses. “Everyone’s too caught up in the chaos to appreciate the quiet moments.”
I take a sip of bourbon, the liquid burning down my throat. The contrast between Ethan’s preference for quiet nights and my intentional plunge into chaos isn’t lost on me. He’s the calm sea sailors crave while I’m the tempest stirring up wreckage in my wake.
“We’re here to celebrate her birthday,” Becka tells them. I groan internally. Be cool, girl, don’t scare them off too soon.
Actually, this is good. If he’s scared of my age, this won’t work out anyway.
“Happy birthday,” Ethan and Alyx chime in together, most likely out of obligation.
“Thanks. It was two days ago, but who goes out on a Wednesday night?” I swirl the remaining liquid in my glass.
“How many candles are we blowing out?” Alyx inquires. “Ouch!” He whines after Ethan kicks him under the table.
“It’s not cool to ask people that, bro,” Ethan mutters.
“It’s fine. I turned thirty-eight.”
“So other than a birthday, what brings you to the club tonight?” Ethan asks, inching closer to me so our thighs touch.
Giving him a once-over, I take a sip of my drink. “I’m interested in making a connection,” I reply, lowering my eyelashes.
“They look pretty connected.” Alyx points at a couple a few booths over behind Ethan who are practically dry humping.
Ethan turns to look and then drops his head against his chest. “I don’t think that’s what she meant. What even is happening right now?”
“Well, when a man loves a woman…” Becka starts.
Alyx and I burst out laughing as Ethan’s head shoots up.
“I knew you were our people.” Alyx wipes tears from the corners of his eyes.
“So you did bump into me on purpose!” I accuse, as a grin forms on my lips.
“I really didn’t, but I’m glad I ran into you, and I’m pretty sure he’s glad I did too.” He winks at Ethan and then turns to Becka. “As a fellow wing-person, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on the dance floor so our friends can make a ‘better connection’?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Jesus, can you stop?” Ethan begs. Alyx is clearly the fuckboy while Ethan appears to have more of a quiet charm.
Alyx and Becka continue bantering as if we aren’t here. “I’ll dance with you if you keep your hands where I can see them and act as my buffer. I’m not here on the prowl.”
“It would be an honor,” Alyx says while extending his hand, though I swear I catch a hint of disappointment cross his face briefly. “Actually, you can be my wing-woman if you want.”
“I think this could be the start of a very entertaining friendship,” Becka tells him as they walk to the dance floor.
“Should I be worried about that? He’ll keep his hands to himself, right?” I ask Ethan.
“Yeah, he’s all flirt, but he’s a good guy. He understands that no means no and will brother her.”
“Brother her?”
“Act like a brother, watch out for her, not let anyone touch her.”
“Ah, so he friend-zoned himself, just like that?”
“Just like that. He’s honestly one of the best guys I know. His moms raised him to respect women. Trust me, they’d be mortified to know he knocked you over like that. It’s not a scam we run, I promise.”
“Mm-hmm. Is that why he left you so we could ‘make a connection’?” I ask, using finger quotes to emphasize my point.
Realization dawns on his face as he looks back at the couple sucking face a few booths over. “That’s not… What I mean is… Shit. I don’t want to assume…”
Laughing, I place my hand on his muscular forearm. “I’m just teasing you.”
“Sorry. I haven’t really been in a good headspace lately, and Alyx’s been begging me to come out for a while, but I’m not a fan of his aggressive meddling.
” He laughs nervously. “Let’s try this again.
So, Bridget, what brings you to a place like this tonight?
” His gaze focused on me as the lighting casts a subtle glow on his features. He really is handsome.
“You’re so bad at this.” I lean back against the circular booth. “What if I’m just looking for the next shiny thing to distract me?” My words are light, casual, and deliberately vague as my hand runs up the corded muscle of his arm. There’s no point getting attached. I don’t let that happen.
His gaze meets mine, a subtle challenge lingering in his emerald eyes, and I can’t ignore the eager look I find there. “I can think of many ways I could…distract you.”
“How old are you?” I ask. Is he even old enough to ride this ride?
“Age is just a number.”
“Oh, I’m really good at numbers.”
Yeah, this is happening. I’ve read enough romance books to understand what’s going on here. This man has serious Golden Retriever vibes, like he’s eager to please. This pup may be just what I need tonight.