Chapter 2
Two
Leo, a few weeks later
“Hey, cutie.”
I turn away from the beer I’ve been nursing to see a slender blonde with great tits and an even better smile standing beside my barstool.
Nope.
“Hey,” I mutter and rotate back to my beer.
A smile on another blonde’s face…one that quickly faded.
Because of me.
Fuck.
I cannot believe I’m still thinking about this woman—no. Not this woman.
I’m still thinking about Harper.
I’ve been thinking about her since Luna’s baby shower.
Which is the fucking problem. Along with—
“Fuck you! You ruined my life, asshole!” My mother storms away, but before she leaves, her eyes lock with my ten-year-old gaze. “Don’t ever fall in love, Leo. It’ll ruin everything.”
—that being the reigning sentiment of my childhood.
And the primary reason I’m going to stay single. Forever.
Even if I had a moment of temporary insanity and thought for a minute that things could be different.
The universe quickly set me straight, and I’m not going to fuck around and find out.
Not again.
“Um…”
Biting back a sigh, I turn to face the woman again. Maybe she dropped her keys or I’m blocking her way to the bar or something.
“Hi,” she says, smile shy as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Sweet.
Just like Harper.
The memory slams into me as fiercely as it had the morning after I left her sated and sleeping in her bed—
“Fuck,” my father mutters to me as my mom storms out of the house yet again, slamming the door behind her, “don’t ever have kids, yeah? They’ll ruin your fucking life.”
“Did you need something?” I ask back in the present when she just continues to stand there smiling at me, trying to be patient, to be gentle, but with the memories of my parents running through my mind, reminding me precisely why I can’t have what I so intensely want, I have the feeling I don’t succeed.
Her smile dims slightly. “Oh, I…” Her cheeks start to turn pink. “I just wanted to see if you maybe…” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Wanted to, you know, go out sometime?”
Christ.
I rub my forehead, barely smother my curse.
Too sweet.
Too much like—
“No,” I say, a little too sharply, and for the second time in as many weeks, I make a nice woman’s face fall. “No,” I repeat more gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not…the going out type,” I finish lamely.
“Oh.” Her smile’s gone now. “Right, well, I’ll just…”
I save her the trouble of finishing and turn back to my beer, lifting the frosted glass and taking a long sip.
But it doesn’t soothe the ache in my throat, the fire that’s been burning in my chest.
The yearning for something I can’t have.
Sighing, I take another, longer sip.
“So,” I hear, “you’re not looking for sweet?”
I glance to the side, see a woman with deep brown hair that just brushes her shoulders and brightly painted red lips curved up into a smile that is anything but sweet.
“I’m not looking for anything,” I mutter and focus on my beer.
“No?”
“No.”
“Hmm,” she drawls.
“What?” I can’t help but ask.
“Are you sure you’re not looking for anything?”
I sit up, intrigued, but kind of hating myself for being so. “What kind of anything are you offering?” I ask.
“Hmm,” she says again, leaning forward slightly, allowing the deep vee of her shirt to float forward and reveal a gorgeous set of tits covered in black lace. “The kind without strings.”
I can’t wait to see you again.
My words echo through my brain like a sledgehammer and I lift my beer, swallow down a large gulp, trying to quiet them.
It’s been weeks now; why can’t I stop hearing them?
They were dumb to even think.
Even dumber to say aloud.
And because of that I hurt Harper—but better for that small slice of hurt to happen now rather than later. Rather than when she wakes up one day and—
“No?” I hear.
And blink, those tits coming back into focus.
“No, what?”
The woman’s mouth curves, her smile turning predatory. “No to me?” A beat. “No to no strings?”
And I make a decision.
I glance at the bartender, wait until he’s looking at me then nod to the side. “She needs another drink.”
Laughter from beside me. “That I do.”
The bartender smirks and starts pouring. “Another beer for you too?”
I shake my head. “Bourbon. Neat.”
I can’t wait to see you again.
Beer isn’t going to cut it.
“What’s your name?” she asks when her second drink is in hand and I’m reaching for my glass.
I drain it, silently ask for another. “Leo.”
A pause. Then another laugh. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t quiet with Harper.
Hell, we’d talked for hours, could have kept talking for hours more if we hadn’t fucked each other into exhaustion.
And the only reason I hadn’t woken her up the next morning and done it all over again was because I promised Sawyer and the other guys to meet them for some ice time.
It’s the off-season, but we still need to practice, still need to stay in shape—especially since the guys coming up seem to get younger with each year that passes.
Or maybe it’s that I’m getting old for a hockey player.
Twenty-nine.
Yup. It’s all downhill from here.
At least in the world of professional sports.
“My name is Shannon,” she says, shifting so that her body is perpendicular to mine, legs crossed, skirt riding up. She rests her hand on my thigh, tits brushing against my arm. “Yummy. Muscles.” She leans closer, lips coming to my ear. “You know how to use them, big guy?”
I try to ignore how wrong it feels to have her close, how wrong her voice sounds.
Something that’s made a little easier when I down another bourbon.
Her voice softens. I can almost pretend she’s someone else.
And by the time I down the third one, I’m not thinking of another woman, another night.
I’m feeling Shannon’s hand slide up my thigh to cup my dick, to stroke it, and I’m thinking about how good that feels.
Thinking that maybe I can erase that other night forever.
That other woman.
So, when she asks me to go home with her, I pay our tab and take her hand, leading her back to my car.
To my house.
To my bed.
It’s…a release, a moment where the edges of my reality go black.
But when she gets dressed that black begins to fade.
And when she walks out the door with a smile and an invitation to meet her at the same bar the following week, it’s gone completely.
I can’t wait to see you again.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pushing out of bed.
The shower I take is scorching hot.
But it doesn’t erase the words.
Nor the truth—
That staying far, far away from Harper is the right thing to do.