Want You (The Albertsons #1)

1. Octavia

OCTAVIA

After an hour and a half, however, she was quite certain she had, in fact, not.

She asked the bartender to close her tab, sliding her credit card across the bar.

She’d gotten a fucking blowout for this, and the prick hadn’t even bothered to show up.

A blowout, new dress, and two glasses of sauv blanc, and she was out four hundred and twenty-seven dollars all because she’d done that stupid thing she sometimes did—hoped.

As she turned to leave, a group of men noisily entered the bar.

“Hockey players,” she cursed under her breath, rolling her eyes so aggressively that she had to hold onto the bar so she didn’t tip over.

“Whoa there,” one said, his hands landing on her waist, causing her to tense up immediately.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, knocking his hands away from her and immediately falling over.

Those strong hands were on her again, this time tighter, digging into all the places she wanted hands on tonight, just not in this way and not belonging to this man.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can let you take another step, Autumn.”

Octavia heaved herself back onto the stool she’d just vacated. “My name isn’t Autumn.”

“What is it then?” He leaned against the bar, and she finally got a good look at him. Definitely an athlete, his lower half giving away that he was indeed a hockey player. He had hockey thighs and she would wager that if he turned around, she’d see a hockey ass too.

He was attractive in that two-glasses-deep kind of way.

Effortlessly styled dark brown hair, stubble that would leave her skin raw, and golden brown eyes that stayed on her face instead of moving down.

She wouldn’t blame him if they did, her cleavage looked spectacular tonight.

She barely registered his lips tipping up the longer she looked, eventually parting to reveal far too perfect teeth for a hockey player.

“Are your teeth fake?” she asked, reaching out as if she was going to tap them.

“The best money can buy,” he said, running his tongue across them.

What would that tongue feel like running over her body, tracing her skin all the way down… She crossed her legs and looked away. She had to get the hell out of here. When she looked back, his eyes were glued to her, not to her chest but to her eyes, like he could see right through her defences.

“How drunk are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I’m not drunk. I just don’t do the stiletto thing that often.

” She gestured down at her feet, where her sister Flora’s four-inch red stilettos sparkled.

Damn shoes, she thought, but Flora had insisted Blaze94 would be eating out of the palm of her hand if he saw what those heels did to her legs and ass.

“Ah.” He nodded, looking around. “Are you expecting someone?”

She could lie and say no, she was here alone, drinking, or maybe a date had ended. Perhaps she should say that she had been out with her friends.

She huffed and looked at the bottles lining the back of the bar. “I was supposed to be,” she admitted bitterly. “He didn’t show up. Unless you’re Blaze94 and you lied about being,” she gestured at his height. “Six feet?” The man in front of her was definitely well over six feet.

“Do you want me to be Blaze94?” He grinned. “Because I can be, if you want. I’ve got nothing else going on tonight.”

Octavia looked back at where the other guys had gathered in the lounge area, already pouring shots out of an expensive looking bottle of tequila.

“Won’t your friends miss you?”

He shook his head without even sparing a glance toward the guys. “I’ll just be thinking about you the whole time anyway.”

His brown eyes actually sparkled. Who the fuck had eyes that did that?

Or maybe she was indeed a bit drunk. No, she thought, she was horny.

That’s what she was. Horny, disappointed, and pissed off she’d wasted money and energy preparing for a night that would never happen.

Not to mention she’d spent weeks building a foundation with the guy online.

“What’s your name?” she asked, waving the bartender over and asking for water. “What do you want?”

“Water, please,” he said, his eyes not leaving her again. “My name’s Nathan. And you are?”

“Octavia.”

“Great name.” The bartender set their glasses down, and she immediately picked hers up to take a long gulp. Nothing sexier than a woman gulping down water. Nathan’s remained untouched. “Are you nervous, Octavia?” he asked, his fingers drumming on the bar top.

“No.” She huffed. “I’m annoyed.”

“At me?”

“Not yet.” She offered a saccharine smile.

“No, Nathan. I’m mad that I made an effort just so I could be stood up.

” She turned toward him and leaned in, immediately regretting it when she breathed in his cologne.

He fucking would smell amazing. Warmth and spice assaulted her senses, and she had to physically pull herself back using the bar.

“But I waxed, plucked, and shopped all so that I could maybe—” she stopped herself from continuing and watched in horror as he smirked knowingly at her. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.

“Maybe you got stood up so we could meet. Maybe this happened so I could spend the night with you instead of around those drunk morons,” he said, pointing at his friends or teammates. Octavia studied the guys for a minute.

“And how often do you meet women at a hotel bar and use that line?”

He levelled her with a gaze, his warm brown eyes not moving from hers. “Never. You’re the first.” Dammit, she believed him.

“Don’t you want to spend the night with your drunk, moronic friends?” She turned in her stool toward him, leaning casually on the bar.

He watched her for a minute as if deciding how truthful to be. “Well, first of all, I’m sober, so a bar isn’t exactly my favourite place to be. And two, why any man would rather be over there with those fools instead of sitting here with you is beyond me.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him, really studying the man in front of her. He gave nothing away. He was either an expert liar or he was telling the truth.

Nathan sat there patiently, looking completely unbothered as she glared at him. “What’s your favourite holiday, Nathan?”

“If I pass this test, are you going to invite me to a family dinner?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Thanksgiving.”

“Why?”

Nathan shrugged. She hated shrugging. They were so noncommittal.

“I like fall.” His eyes wandered over her hair and across her face.

She expected them to continue down, but they stopped at her chin.

“I like the dinner and family time without all the stress of gifts.” Now that was an answer. “What about you?”

“I like Christmas. I like the stress of gifts, and I love a turkey dinner.”

“We’d make a good pair then.” Nathan chuckled. “Do I get to ask you a question now?” He mimicked her position leaning on the bar.

“Sure.”

“Is a hot dog a sandwich?”

She tried to hold back her smile, but it broke through, along with a laugh. She had expected something crass. “No. A hot dog is a hot dog.”

“But a sub is a sandwich. Isn’t a hot dog just a sub flipped on its side?”

“A hot dog is named for the meat. A hot dog bun is not a hot dog. When you say hot dog, you are implying that the thing is the tube of meat. A hot dog is a hot dog regardless of whether there is a bun or not.”

Nathan sat staring at her for several seconds, apparently unable to form words. Octavia smiled and leaned back, feeling victorious.

“Are you a lawyer?” he asked slowly.

She nodded.

“A good one?”

She nodded again.

“That’s kind of hot.”

She nodded a third time. “You should see me tackle the glass half full theory.”

“I’d really like to,” Nathan said, his eyes searching hers in that way that made her believe he was trying to find all the ways her brain worked. “I don’t think I’ve wanted to hear a theory so badly, actually.”

Octavia had been prepared to ward off unwanted sexual advances, but she had a sneaking suspicion Nathan would be content just sitting and chatting about ridiculous theories all night if she suggested it. It’s what she had expected to have tonight with Blaze94.

“Is this where you tell me you have a room?” Please have a room, she thought. “And that we should head up there so we can chat in private?” Please have a room.

The truth was he could have said he used that line all the time, and she’d still want him to have a room and invite her to see it.

Fucking this guy tonight, even though he was a damn hockey player, felt like a solid way to stick it to Blaze94.

Even if he didn’t think twice about standing her up, she’d at least get off with the two-drink-deep smoke show in front of her.

“If I tell you I don’t have a room, will you be disappointed?”

Yes. An internal voice yelled.

“No,” she lied.

He leaned closer to her, his scent overwhelming her again, drawing her in. “Liar,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing across her ear, sending chills racing places they had no business going. “I’ll be right back,” he said, standing abruptly and backing away. “Don’t move.”

She watched him leave, her eyes landing on his ass, confirming that he absolutely had a hockey ass.

He walked back in five minutes later, brandishing a keycard and what looked like slippers.

“Hold on,” he said when she went to stand. And then she watched as he knelt in front of her and slipped off her shoes one at a time before replacing them with the hotel slippers.

“Didn’t want to hold me up anymore?” she teased, staring down at him and trying not to focus too hard on how the heat from his touch travelled over her skin.

He grinned up at her, his hands sliding up her exposed calf as he rose. “I’ll hold you up all night, Autumn.”

“Why do you keep calling me Autumn?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, taking her hand in his right, his left still holding onto her shoes, and then he led her to the elevator. “You sure?” he asked as the door opened.

She set her jaw and nodded. “Absolutely.”