“I interned at Z Hotels.”
“Yes, you interned at the company your best friend’s family runs.” Joe snorted. “Laura Zinterhofer won’t give you a management role just because you run around with her son.”
Blake’s jaw clenched harder. “I never said that. I earned that internship. Landon didn’t know I applied until after I got it.”
“Fine. Tell me, what is your grand post-college business plan?” Joe leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
Blake should’ve waited. He was nowhere near ready to tell anyone but Farrah about his plans. With her encouragement, he’d put together a to-do list of everything he needed to make the sports bar a reality. It was…a lot. The estimated cost alone made his eyes swim.
However, the condescending smirk on his father’s face pulled the words out before he could stop them. “I’m opening a sports bar.”
A beat of silence, followed by loud guffaws as Joe burst into laughter. “Get serious.”
“I am serious,” Blake said through gritted teeth.
“You know nothing about running a business. A sports bar? C’mon. There are a million sports bars out there. Take it from someone who’s been around a lot longer than you have, son: stick to what you’re good at. You’re good at football. That’s it.”
Anger ate away at Blake’s stomach. “I’m not going back to football. An NFL career is your dream, not mine.”
“Yeah? You sure as hell didn’t turn down those Heismans. You have talent and prospects other boys your age would kill for, and you’re throwing it all away!” Joe pounded the table. “Do you know how much money you can make in the NFL? Think of the sponsorships. The name recognition. If you’re smart, you can take that to the bank even after you retire.”
“It’s not about the money!” Blake yelled.
“It’s not until you’re jobless and broke!” Joe yelled back. “If you think your mother and I will bankroll your pipe dream, think again!”
“I don’t need you to bankroll me. I’ll do it myself!”
“Ha, I’d like to see that happen.”
“It will happen, and it’ll be no thanks to you.” Blake hung up without another word. Pressing the “end call” button wasn’t as satisfying as slamming down a phone, but it did the trick.
His heart zipped through his chest like a racecar driver intent on winning the Indy 100.
Screw his father. Blake was going to own the most successful fucking sports bar in the world, and when he did, he was going to rub it in Joe Ryan’s face.
In the meantime, he needed to calm down before he punched a hole in the wall. Nothing ruined his day like a conversation with his father.
Once the red haze dissipated from his vision, Blake texted Farrah. She was the only person who could make him feel better.
Are you busy? I miss you.
She responded not a minute later. Be right there.
Blake’s heart rate slowed. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He had a lot of shit to do if he wanted his business venture to be a success.
First on the list: figure out where he wanted to open the bar.
He heard a knock.
“I come bearing gifts,” Farrah said when Blake opened the door. She unwrapped a paper towel to reveal a pile of Sammy’s legendary chocolate chip cookies. “I passed by the kitchen and nabbed a few before Luke got to them. I swear he’s here more since he moved into his homestay.” She shook her head. “How was your call with your mom?”
Blake popped a cookie in his mouth. “Fine. Until it turned into a call with my dad.”
Farrah winced. “Not good?”
“That’s one way to put it. I told him about the sports bar idea. He thinks it’s dumb.”
She walked to his desk and set the cookies down. She turned and said, in the calmest voice possible, “Fuck what he thinks.”
Blake had to pick his jaw up from the floor. He’d never heard Farrah be so blunt.
“If he can’t see your potential, that’s his problem. Don’t let his limitations run your life. You can do this.” Farrah cupped his face in her hands. “I know you can.”
His heart ached. The person he saw reflected in her eyes was the person he always wanted to be: brave, smart, passionate. Someone who chased his dreams and believed in himself. Someone worthy of love and respect.
“What would I do without you?”
“Oh, you’d probably be checking yourself out in the mirror and calculating how many pushups you need to maintain your physique.”
Farrah squealed as Blake lifted her up and tossed her on the bed with a playful growl. “Who says I don’t do that anyway?”
Her eyes shone with laughter. “I admire your self-awareness.”
“Admire, huh? Keep going.” Blake nipped her bottom lip, enjoying her sharp inhale.
Yeah, he had a lot of shit to figure out, but he’d do that later. Right now, there were more enjoyable things on the agenda.
“You wish. I’m not here to—” Her breath turned shallow as he trailed kisses down her neck, licking and sucking until he reached the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat. “—boost your ego.”
“What are you here for?” Blake brushed his lips over her collarbone. Her orange blossom-and-vanilla scent caused his blood to rush south.
“For this.” Farrah brought his head up to hers and captured his mouth in a searing kiss.
Coherent thought slipped away. Their tongues tangled in a sultry duel that left Blake breathless. He lost himself in the taste of her, the heat of their embrace, the heady sensation of being in the arms of the girl he loved.
Farrah tugged on the hem of his shirt. He took her cue and pulled the pesky piece of fabric over his head, eager to be rid of one less barrier between them. She tracked every movement, her eyes molten with desire.
“Blake.” Her breathy whisper almost did him in.
“Yes, baby?” Blake lifted her shirt and pressed a hot kiss to her stomach. He inched his way up until he reached the lacy edge of her bra.
“I’m ready.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I’m ready.”
Blake froze.
Farrah’s heart slammed against her ribcage. This was it.
Bye-bye, nineteen years of virginity.
“Are you sure?” Blake’s brow crinkled with…concern? Not the reaction she’d expected or been hoping for.
“Yes.” Farrah maneuvered them so Blake lay on his back and she hovered over him. She trailed kisses over his neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach until the agonizingly slow journey brought her to the top of his jeans. She stroked him through the denim. He was so huge and hard it sent spikes of fear and anticipation through her.
Blake’s stomach muscles contracted; a low growl ripped from his throat. He gripped her arms and yanked her up. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” She shrugged free and started unbuckling his belt.
He covered her hand with his, forcing her to still. “I don’t know if I’ll—we don’t have to do this now. We can wait.” She noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead.