I do believe the reception would have gone on all night if it weren’t for the fact Erik and Blue are catching a late-night flight out for their honeymoon in Australia. Attendants started clearing off the tables and caterers packed away the food, offering little to-go boxes to guests who wanted them.
It takes a while to say our goodbyes. As I’m receiving hugs from the women I’d met and whose names I will never remember for the long run but remember right now—Blue, Brooke, Pepper, Regan, and Nora—I have a moment’s regret I’ll never be friends with them. I can say they are all genuinely nice and welcoming. As Aaron promised, everyone seems down to earth and humble.
I figure it’s an act, or maybe it isn’t. Not up to me to figure these people out. It’s enough to know they are in a certain class and I’m in a different one, meaning I don’t belong.
Aaron leads me out of the house into the warm, dry evening, and we meander over to the valet stand. He walks casually beside me, hands tucked into his pockets. “I assume you wouldn’t have any interest in going out for a drink somewhere?”
I give him a small smile. Handing my ticket to the valet, I watch as he rushes off to get my car. “I’m tired. I think I’ll call it an evening.”
“Going to tell me why you don’t like me being a professional athlete?” he asks, still correctly guessing about my discomfort, but not exactly the reasoning behind it.
“Nope,” I reply, then try to sugarcoat it a bit so he leaves it alone. “I promise… it’s not a big deal.”
“Still intend to honor our date next weekend?” he asks.
“Of course,” I reply, but there’s enough aloofness in my tone he knows it will be our last date.
“Hmmm,” he muses and before I know it, he’s leaning into me. “Then I’m not going to regret doing this at all.”
It’s completely unexpected and given my reticence about Aaron and all he represents, it’s shocking how quickly I respond to his warm mouth on mine. It’s not a goodbye peck thanking me for a wonderful evening.
It’s a penetrating kiss that tells me he could show me oh so much more if I’d give him a chance past next weekend.
It’s over as soon as it starts, but the tingling of my lips leaves me a pointed reminder left by a sinful man I want to despise, but I really just can’t.
As Aaron turns to walk back toward the house, I watch his retreating back, knowing he’s going to be on my mind for quite some time.
CHAPTER 5
Wylde
“Dude… I don’t understand what you had in all these boxes,” I say as I break another one down, pulling the flaps out and flattening it.
I’ve spent the morning at Kane’s condo, helping him clear out the mounds of cardboard he has left from his move. There have to be fifty empty boxes, yet I don’t see what he had in them as everything is neatly put away. Nothing out of place.
Kane snickers as he flattens a box out, adding to the pile we’ll carry down to my truck and then haul to the dump. “Word of advice… don’t open any of the closets in this place.”
Now that makes more sense.
“Duly noted.” Laughing, I grab another box. “But you got a great place here.”
“Thanks, man. Lucked out really.”
I’ll say. His condo is about the same size as mine in square feet, but his comes with an amazing outdoor balcony that overlooks downtown with a stunning view of the arena the Vengeance plays in, which is all glass and steel, sparkling in the late afternoon sunset.
“So how did it go with the hot redhead after Erik and Blue’s wedding?” Kane asks, giving me a lecherous grin. “Did you score one for the team if you know what I mean?”
I shake my head. “Yeah… I know what you mean and no, I didn’t score one for the team.”
“What?” he exclaims with exaggerated surprise. “You mean the team’s playboy… the man himself who goes by nothing but the moniker Wylde… struck out?”
“Can’t strike out if you don’t attempt to play,” I say with a wink. “Let’s just say she’s not the type of woman you hookup with.”
Kane’s expression clouds with confusion. “Look, dude… I get we’ve only known each other for a few months and all, but I had the distinct impression not only from you, but also from pretty much everyone on this team, you don’t do anything but hookups. This girl that special?”
I shrug. “I have no clue what she is other than intriguing. Maybe she’s just a challenge for all I know. I’m just rolling with it.”
Kane regards me before giving me a smirk. “Famous last words.”
“Look,” I say, holding my arms out. “I’m not looking for anything serious. This might not be a one-night stand, but it’s definitely not a relationship or anything. We’ve only been on one date.”
“And you’re taking her to Dax and Regan’s wedding this weekend?” he prompts.
“Yup,” I tell him.
He seems to consider this. “And have you been with anyone else since you met her?”
That question strikes me, sucking the cockiness right out of my expression. “Well… no.”
“And why is that?” he drawls, looking superior and as if he has me all figured out.
I roll my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I screw a different woman every night, Kane. In fact, I’ve been known to go two, sometimes three, whole days without fucking a woman.”
“And yet, it’s been at least five days since you first met her and three days since the wedding?” he replies, and I wince at the way he’s just called me out.
I play it off with a half shrug. “Just because I’m not interested in fucking someone else doesn’t mean I want this chick on a permanent basis.”
Because I don’t.
And yet… even as I just used the word “chick”—a term I’ve used in conjunction with women for years—I realize how inappropriate it is to think of Clarke in that way.
She’s way more than just some “chick,” deserving far better than that from me. It’s a moment of growth for me, and I immediately feel the pressing need to correct that. “I didn’t mean to call her a chick.”
Kane cocks an eyebrow.
“What I mean,” I drawl, trying to explain this to him in a way even I might understand, “is she’s an intriguing woman whom I’m not only attracted to, but also actually interested in getting to know a bit better. That’s all.”
He opens his mouth and I can tell by the expression on his face it’s to say something smart ass, but he’s distracted by his phone ringing. When he pulls it from his pocket, a smile lights up on his face.
Ignoring me, he taps the screen to connect the call, but rather than putting it up to his ear, he focuses on the screen.
Must be FaceTime.
Holding the phone out a bit, his smile turns even brighter when the call fully connects and he can see the person calling. “Hey, Noodle,” he exclaims, sheer happiness in his tone. “About damn time you called.”
Noodle?