Chapter 2 #2
He ponders for a minute. “Maybe that’s true, but what if all it’s doing is filling your head with delusional ideas of the opposite sex?”
“It is. But it’s also giving you hope that you’ll find what you’re looking for someday with fantasies along the way.”
“The only thing that gave me was a way to pass the time and a few new phrases for the bedroom.” He says seductively.
“So you didn’t take away anything on how to treat a woman out of it? Shocking. On that note, it’s time to go.” I jerk my head to the people exiting their seats in front of us.
He hands me his phone. “Here, type the name of the book while I get your bag. And feel free to leave your number. I’d love to test those phrases out, and you seemed pretty into them when we were reading.”
Asshole. He just had to go there again. I should be flattered that he won’t give up, but guys like him are like this with anything on two legs.
I enter the author’s name and book title, but instead of leaving my name or number, I add a short message. He sets my backpack on his vacated seat and reaches for his phone. I quickly close the notes app before handing it over with a smile. He can look at it later.
“You put the name in there?”
“Yep. If you follow the author online, you’ll get an email when the sequel comes out.”
“Cool, thanks.”
I still can’t believe he wants to read the next one. It’s kind of cute. If he weren’t such a douchebag, I’d be interested. But I can’t get past those terrible pickup lines he started with. Only one type of guy behaves that way, and that’s certainly not the type for me.
He stands where he is, letting me go in front of him. He’s probably checking out my ass down the aisle. When we leave the jetway and enter the terminal, he stays with me while we walk toward the exit. I’m not sure how to lose him.
“All right, I’ve got it—if you’re not a teacher or a librarian, you must be an astronaut because your ass is out of this world.”
I groan, making him laugh. “I knew that’s why you let me go ahead. You’re too much.”
“I’m growing on you, admit it, Mouse.” His head cocks accompanied by a smile.
I shake my head with a huff. “The only thing you’re growing on is my nerves.”
“Listen, I know you’re busy, but if you do have any time, I’d love to see you while you’re here.”
Hmmm. That’s the most normal, nonsexual way he’s asked. But too little, too late, so the joke’s on him. Plus, it’s a moot point, since I really am too busy.
“Like I said, I’m tied up this trip.”
He releases a low growl. “Fuck, baby. You can’t say things like that. I’m gonna have visions of you tied to my bed all night.”
Unbelievable.
I stop in my tracks and face him right before we go through the doors to the baggage area.
“Look, this was… interesting. I’m sure you’ll survive being turned down for what must be the first time in your life and shift your efforts to the next girl.
You might want to attempt an actual conversation with a woman someday.
I’d wish you luck if I didn’t feel sorry for whoever falls for your crap. ”
“Yeah, well, you’d probably be a boring fuck anyway, so really, it’s your loss, not mine. Try a few things from those books you read, and you might just get laid more often.”
I’m seething inside. How dare he? “You know what? Go fuck yourself.”
“Gladly, I’m sure I’ll do a better job than you.”
I stomp off, fuming mad, but when I walk through the exit, I panic. Waiting in the crowd at arrivals is a man holding a sign with my name on it. The last thing I need is for this asshole to be able to look me up somehow. It sucks that he knows where I live.
Making a beeline for the bathroom, I quickly enter and grab my phone.
Me: I just got to baggage and saw your driver. Can you tell him I’ll meet him at the car and text me the location? Long story, which I’ll tell you tonight, but I don’t want this guy from the plane to find out my name, so I can’t walk up to him with that sign.
Cici: Texting him now. I’ll ask where he parked and let you know. Are you safe?
Me: Yeah, it’s nothing like that. He’s just a jerk with no boundaries whatsoever.
Cici: Damn, can’t wait to hear about it. Okay, he just texted me. I’ll forward it to you.
Me: Thank you!
Braden
What the actual hell just happened? I’ve never blown my chances with a girl that badly.
Shit, come to think of it, I’ve never struck out.
Nor have I had a woman push my buttons like her.
Am I losing my touch? I contemplated waiting when I saw her go into the bathroom, but to what end?
She won’t change her mind at this point.
And she’s for sure not my type if she wasn’t all over those attempts, so would I even want the meek little mouse?
Yes. Yes, I would, I admit as I make my way to the car.
I’m lying to myself, trying to play it off.
I don’t remember the last time I was that attracted to someone and wanted in their pants that badly.
Damn, it must be her resistance. It’s not like she’s the hottest chick I’ve seen, so what else could it be?
The red hair? Those green eyes? Those fucking legs—that ass.
Or was it simply the challenge factor? Fuck. Who am I kidding? It was all the above.
The stubborn girl wouldn’t even give me her name, which means brooding about this will do nothing, so I might as well let it go. Thankfully, I’ve got the bachelor party tonight. The guys and whatever woman I pick up for the night will take my mind off the sexy little librarian who got away.
Hours later and three whiskeys in, I’m starting to think otherwise. Here we are at a bachelor party, where I’m the only bachelor, and considering how many women have offered themselves up, I should have already had a blow job by now. So why haven’t I?
It’s a good question, especially with the selection of fine ladies around. We’re at the club Eli and his brother Sebastian own, because why have the hottest nightclub in San Diego and not take advantage of the VIP section at every opportunity?
Not that any of them care we’re here. They’re the most pussy-whipped men around. But hey, more power to them. Their wives, or soon-to-be wives, are bangin’ hot and available to fuck whenever they want, so who am I to talk shit? I just hope it works out for them.
I was in love once—almost asked the girl to marry me, even.
Four fucking years ago. I ended up dodging a bullet when I came home to find her screwing my roommate.
I honestly should’ve sent them both a thank you.
Because I, of all people, should have known better.
Between my dad’s infidelities and the amount of shit I see daily, what the fuck was I thinking?
Love doesn’t mean crap. If someone wants sex, they go for it, screw the consequences.
“Dude, what’s up with you tonight? You look like somebody kicked your puppy. Was the Big Sky trip a bust?” Jackson, my best friend and one of the grooms, asks.
“Of course not. When have I ever failed to land a client?” True story.
“Then what’s your deal?” Jackson persists.
“I got shot down by a woman today. Something else that never happens.”
Jeers and chuckles break out.
“Ah, so you’re pouting.” Jackson derives.
While Eli, the other groom, adds, “Ego a bit bruised, buddy?”
And before you get the wrong idea, they’re not marrying each other. Not that I’d care, but they’re not. Jackson is marrying Mia, who he met through work, and Eli is marrying Jackson’s sister, Cici. The timing simply worked in their favor to have a double wedding.
“Hardly. The girl was a prude. I had a hunch, but got distracted by the red hair and was dying to find out if she was red everywhere.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never been with a ginger in your many pursuits.” This comes from Justin, the final guy here and Sebastian’s former security guard turned friend.
Yeah, Eli and Sebastian Dubree? Rich as fuck and have private security.
Might have something to do with Sebastian’s wife, Lily, being kidnapped while they were dating.
That and the paparazzi who hound them daily.
It’s slowed down now that they’re both off the market, but before, shit, they couldn’t go anywhere without being harassed.
I was introduced to Justin through Eli and have subsequently used his PI and security firm for work.
I’m always digging into people’s shit and having them followed.
Whatever it takes to win a settlement in my client’s favor.
Hey, it’s not like I represent the asshole side of the divorce; people know better than to seek my services if they’re the cheating spouse.
And nine times out of ten, a cheating spouse is involved, whether that’s why they’re divorcing or not. You’d be surprised by the amount of shit that surfaces while going through proceedings… things no one should hear about. Take it from me, people are fucked up.
“Have any of you? There aren’t many around.” I’m curious if anyone has the answer to my burning question. I could look up some redheaded porn, but A, they’re always shaved, and B, can you even trust that shit?
Heads shake around the table except for Justin, who answers, “I was years ago, and yes, the carpet matches the drapes.”
I full belly laugh. “That’s exactly what I asked her. She wasn’t too impressed, but fuck, why beat around the bush?” We all bust up laughing.
I hold my glass up, and they follow suit. “Fuck, that’s some funny shit, and I didn’t even plan it. Damn, now I wish I’d have hit the jackpot. Would’ve liked to add that to my spank bank.”
“Most chicks are bare these days anyway. You probably wouldn’t have seen the proof. Also, if that’s how you talk to women, I’d say that may be your problem, man,” Jackson says.
He and I have been friends since our freshman year of college and were each other’s wingmen until he found Mia. Now they’re about to be married, and I’ll be the last man standing after this weekend. Fuck.