Chapter 5
FIVE
Murphy’s wasn’t the same without Drew. It had always been our favorite bar to hang out at, especially since they were the only ones who accepted our fake IDs.
But since Drew had become a dad, I’d been flying solo.
And while one-night stands were hot, lately they hadn’t quite been scratching the itch.
My phone buzzed and I picked it up, regretting that decision as soon as I saw it was a text from my dad.
And not just a text, but a photo. His arm was around a woman who looked about my age, both of them grinning at the camera from some rooftop bar. She was gorgeous—long dark hair, tight dress, her cleavage leaving nothing to the imagination.
Frankly, she looked like half the girls I’d hooked up with, and that thought did nothing to make me feel better.
Dad
Met Mariana last night in Miami. She’s Brazilian. Told her I bet I could convince her to run away with me. You should come with me next time I have a business trip down here. The women are absolutely stunning and always down for a good time.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket without responding.
All my life, I’d been told how I was my father’s son. I was the spitting image of him, and everyone who ever saw us together was convinced I would grow up to be just like him.
And that had turned into my biggest fear because the truth was my father’s only accomplishment—if you could even call it that—was being an unfaithful and cocky bastard who thought his good looks were his get-out-of-jail-free card.
I’d lost count of the number of times I watched him come in and out of our life, my mother always welcoming him back because he seemed to be the one weakness she could never shake, even after he cheated on her relentlessly and would disappear for months at a time.
I would lie in bed listening to her cry night after night when he was off doing God knew what. He’d come back and act like nothing had happened. But then every time someone compared the two of us, he’d tell me about how men as handsome as us had responsibilities to never settle down.
When you hear something enough times, you start to believe it, especially as an impressionable kid. And while I never liked what he put my mom through, I started to believe he was right. I couldn’t do relationships. I couldn’t be faithful. I’d end up just like him—just like everyone said I would.
But there was one difference I could make. I wouldn’t leave a wife or girlfriend waiting for me.
I wouldn’t break an innocent woman’s heart.
His text was another reminder that meaningless hookups were all I could allow myself, whether they satisfied me anymore or not.
I knew the damage a charming, uncommitted man could do, and I had sworn off the risk. This lonely, guarded existence—the one where I didn’t do relationships because I refused to hurt anyone—was the only way to guarantee I didn’t shatter someone the way he shattered my mom.
But as I sat here nursing my now lukewarm beer, my current existence had lost its shine and I didn’t quite know what to do about it.
I was contemplating leaving when my gaze snagged on a flash of movement by the crowded dance floor.
Ava.
She was wearing a dress that was conservative up top, but barely covered her ass and accentuated her long, toned legs.
She didn’t dance every day like she had when we were kids, but she danced often enough and taught classes that allowed her to keep her dancer’s physique.
I’d never admit it to Drew, but I’d had dreams about her legs.
The corners of my lips lifted as she shimmied.
She was too dressed up for the location, but she didn’t seem to care, her hips rolling seductively to the song.
But the longer I watched her, the more I realized her movements weren’t as smooth as what’d I’d seen from her in the past. They were off-beat.
My amusement lasted a nanosecond before I realized she was plastered and dangerously vulnerable.
My whole body tightened, and the isolation and loneliness I’d felt moments ago was instantly replaced by a hypervigilance that locked every muscle in my body. My gaze moved from her to the men around her, the same men eyeing her like she was a juicy steak.
I don’t fucking think so.
It only took three strides to get to her, my hand closing around the arm of the guy who was leaning in too close. I gave him a low, hard stare that meant back off.
He raised his hands. “Sorry, didn’t realize she was taken.”
I didn’t correct him that she wasn’t mine.
“We’re leaving,” I told her, my voice low and authoritative.
“Liam?” She slurred my name as she smiled up at me, and despite the outrage that she was trashed out of her mind and clearly by herself, my breath caught.
Fuck, she was gorgeous.
I’d always thought so even though I knew Drew would murder me if I’d ever admitted that to him.
But fuck. I’d have to be blind not to see it.
“I need another—”
“No, the fuck you don’t,” I cut her off, pulling her toward the exit, my singular focus on getting her out of there before I got into a fight with one of the guys looking at her too closely.
I paid both our tabs without a word, grabbing her arm firmly but carefully.
The air that hit us outside was cold, a slap of reality that did nothing to sober her up.
I had to support her full weight as she stumbled down the sidewalk, her small body heavy against my side. We had two more blocks to walk, and I was worried she was going to twist her damn ankle in those insane heels.
“Hang on,” I told her as I scooped her up, one arm behind her back and one under her knees. She squealed as she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.
“Li! You need to put me down. Too heavy.”
“You’re not even close to too heavy.”
Did she not know how much I benched at the gym? Carrying her was nothing.
I wasn’t even winded by the time we got to her dorm room. Her head rested against my shoulder, her warm breath against my neck making my body react to her in ways I’d always fought against.
“Almost there, Sunshine. Where are your keys?”
She opened her purse and handed me her room key.
I carried her through the room and placed her gently on her bed, her arms falling limply beside her head.
Her light brown hair covered her face, so I brushed the strands away until I could see her clearly.
Her breathing was steady and even, but I was nervous about leaving her alone.
I didn’t know where her roommate was or when she’d be back.
Instead of leaving right away like I should’ve, I sat down next to her. She let out a little moan and then turned her head, her eyes opening slowly until she was staring right at me.
“Why do men suck?” she mumbled.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what that dickhead said to me?” Her words were slurred, but clear enough.
“Who?” If someone at the bar had said something nasty to her, I was going straight back there to kick some ass.
“Chris.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh. That dickhead. He’s not even worth another thought.”
“He said I was bad in bed.” The words landed like a stone of indignation in my gut.
“That’s not possible.”
As if I hadn’t spoken at all, she laughed a drunk-girl laugh like she was having some kind of conversation in her head that I wasn’t privy to. “But I’m going to prove him wrong. Someone else will get to enjoy how not boring I am.” Her voice faded as her breathing evened out.
How the fuck could he think she was bad in bed? There was no way.
I’d watched her dance enough to know her body moved with an innate, stunning grace that would make any man worship her.
I remembered seeing her at the gym once, practicing a sequence of moves—the power, the flexibility, the absolute command she had over her own body.
A woman like that couldn’t be “bad” at anything physical.
It was impossible. If their sex life was bad, I was putting that all on her ex for not getting her out of her head enough.
It was his failure, not hers. He was likely too self-absorbed to notice the nervous, beautiful woman beneath the surface.
To make her feel safe enough to be open and vulnerable with him.
Fuck, I needed to get out of here—get away from her before I did something stupid.
But I wouldn’t leave until I was sure she was okay or Sydney got back.
I moved to her desk chair and was getting ready to pull out my phone to pass some time when my gaze caught on the open notebook on her desk with the words “Spicy Bucket List” at the top in Ava’s girly writing.
Her spicy what now?
I read the list.
Then read it again.
My throat dried up and my body reacted instantaneously—a surge of unbidden desire.
Fuuuck me.