It had been eight years since they’d seen each other, and yet, Alex seemed to know her better than the man she’d just spent the last three years of her life with. “Bella struggled with the change too. Everyone did. The only two who were successful were my mom, who’s always called me Charlotte and…” she forced herself to say the asshole’s name, “Ben.”
Alex nodded, acknowledging that he knew about her breakup. Mercifully, he let the comment go. “I like your hair like this. I didn’t realize how red it was back in school. You always kept it so short.”
She laughed. “I stopped cutting it myself in college, after an intervention from some girls in my dorm. Of course, because I preferred to spend my money on Starbucks and cheese fries, there was never any left for haircuts, so I just let it grow out.”
Alex surprised her by reaching out to take a strand of it in his fingers.
He had big hands. She knew that was a weird thing to notice, but all she could think about was how much she wanted those big hands on her.
Everywhere.
“It’s pretty. Suits you.”
She shrugged, trying to ignore the way his compliment made her stomach flutter. “I learned how to French braid by watching a video on YouTube, so that’s my go-to hairstyle these days. Except for tonight, of course. Bella came armed with a curling iron. It was pretty terrifying.”
Yeah. Like Alex Stone gave two shits about how she wore her hair.
She was rambling like an idiot. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her from talking.
“I’m sorry about the game the other night.”
Alex smiled, but it looked forced.
Wow.
She was batting a thousand here.
First, she made stupid small talk about her hair, then, she reminded him of what had to be the most brutal loss of his career.
“I’ve had better nights,” he said.
“It was a hell of a game. You should be proud of yourself. You were on fire, scoring those two goals, killing three power plays.”
“High-sticking Carlyle with two minutes left to play which set them up to score the tying goal and toss us into double overtime. We lost. In game seven of the Conference Final.”
They had. And she’d been absolutely devastated. But he didn’t need to hear that. “You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” she said, without a clue of what the right thing was.
Alex laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
He wasn’t, but she also wasn’t sure how to comfort him.
Alex was typically the king of swagger, oozing with cocky confidence. She hated seeing him down on himself.
“I’m not looking forward to tonight’s conversations,” he admitted.
She got that. She was as competitive as Alex. She fucking hated to lose. “Yeah. I guess there’s no way to put a ban on hockey talk. Hey, I know. We’ll make a game of it. Every time someone says, ‘There’s always next season,’ we’ll drink a shot of tequila.”
Alex honestly seemed to consider that suggestion, then shook his head. “We’ll be wasted in twenty minutes.”
“Maybe so, but hey…open bar.”
Alex had a killer smile. It was the kind that transformed his whole face, complete with dimples and delicate lines that drew her attention to his dark chocolate-colored eyes.
“So, you saw the game?” he asked.
“Yeah. Ben and I are big fans. We were watching together. You guys lost and then…” She blew out a long breath.
“Bella told me about Ben Jerome,” he said so she wouldn’t have to. “Asshole dumped you right after the game?”
“Dick move, right? Talk about adding insult to injury.”
“We both got cross-checked this week.”
“I’m not looking forward to this reception, either. Ben’s going to be there. With his date, whom I can only assume he was seeing while he was dating me as well. Apparently, Beverly is better suited to be an accountant’s wife.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” he said, repeating her comment to him.
It made her laugh, even as she said, “I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
“What do you say we go to this wedding, make your ex jealous as fuck, and then get shit-faced on those free tequila shots?”
“Best offer ever.”
Alex was still very much like the guy she’d known all those years ago.
And while it was comforting to know he hadn’t changed, that didn’t help her beat back this uncontrollable attraction.
Commitment wasn’t in Alex’s repertoire. His relationship attention span lasted until the orgasm.
Then—SQUIRREL—he was on to the next blonde…or supermodel or pop diva or...hmmmm…redhead?
The lightbulb flashed on.
She wasn’t looking to date anyone at the moment. And God knew, Alex wasn’t either.
She wanted to try to revive her diminished confidence, to find the woman she’d been pre-Ben.
The best part about Alex was he’d only ever known the original, genuine Charley. He hadn’t seen her at her worst this past year. Hadn’t seen her walking around in skin that didn’t fit.
Just a few minutes with Alex and Charley was already feeling more like her old self.
Tonight was an end and a beginning.
The end of Charlotte and the beginning of Charley, a take-no-prisoners, single woman who didn’t need a man to tell her how to behave or who to be.
Alex was the bridge.
And the last hurrah.
Because she wasn’t about to ignore the parts of her body that tingled, aching for his touch, his lips.
She’d been with one man in her entire life and while her experience was limited, she also wasn’t stupid about sex.
Ben had been okay in bed, managing to bring her to orgasm about fifty percent of the time. Landing fifty shots on goal out of a hundred in hockey would be considered stellar.
But the horny woman in her was certain Alex would sink every single shot he took.
She liked those odds.
When Alex sat down on the edge of her bed and patted the spot next to him, she knew exactly how she wanted to kick off her new life.
“Maybe we should come up with a game plan before we go downstairs,” he said.
He looked good sitting on her bed, looking all James Bond-like in his expensive suit.
Yeah.
This was a no-brainer.
Screw the streak.
She was having a one-night stand.
With Alex.
Then tomorrow, Charley Matthews took her life back.
Decision made, she sank down next to him, the sudden clenching in her pussy proving she’d made the right choice. “We need a game plan?”
They did not need a game plan, but after seeing Charley again, he knew exactly how he wanted this night to end. While the blonde barracuda at the sports bar hadn’t managed to spark his desire, Charley was firing off all kinds of needs in him.
Thank you, Jesus.
He wasn’t impotent.
But before he could act on his desires, he needed to know what he was up against. After all, Ben had just dumped her a couple nights ago. He had anticipated finding a blubbering, red-eyed mess of a woman, but instead, Charley was the same smiling, easygoing girl she’d always been.
With one big exception.