He pauses, as if he’s trying to count in his mind the amount of men who have passed by my bedroom.
“To keep myself sane, I’m going to say two. Any more than that and I might have to crack some fucking skulls.”
“How did you come up with two?” I reach into my bag and pull out a stick of gum that I quickly pop in my mouth. For some reason my mouth is dry. I tell myself it’s not from the third-leg image Hollis has given me. If only I could get his comment out of my mind. This dude has cock. Sigh.
“Easy. I’ve seen you stare at my crotch in interest, which tells me you’re familiar with the male anatomy, crossing off the virgin card. So that’s one suitor. I’m assuming he wasn’t all that great because let’s be honest, we never are when we’re just figuring shit out. We really should all have dolls to fuck before we do the real thing because the poor women who have to suffer through our fumbling should get an award.” How true is that? My first was a fumbling, clumsy mess. A night I’ve tried to forget. “The second guy, well he’s a lucky fuck because I’m assuming he’s been with you at least a few times, but not enough for you to keep him around. After those two idiots, I like to believe you have put your sexual journey on hold until you find the perfect partner.”
“And let me guess, that person is you?”
“Now you’re getting it, baby. Glad you’ve jumped on board.”
Insufferable.
“There is no jumping on board. I just know your bullshit rambling by now. And for the record, there’s been six men.”
Silence.
Maybe I’ve actually stumped him. Maybe I’ve actually bested this quick-witted man.
Even though I enjoy the fact that I’ve been able to bring him down a peg, at least that’s what it seems like, I’m a little nervous he’s not saying anything.
“Uh, are you there?”
“Yeah,” he responds, his voice a little rougher.
“What are you doing?”
“Searching the Internet for ways to get out of jail, I’m going to need it after my murdering spree. I’m ordering lumberjack gear, an axe, and I’m going to start growing a beard. Dicks are going to be chopped off.”
“You’re absurd.”
“Six?” He sounds pained. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Six isn’t bad at all. What’s your number?”
“Four,” he states with zero hesitation.
“How is that even possible?” I ask before I can stop myself. I’m not blind. The man is gorgeous. Stunning actually, with his vivid-blue eyes, his perfectly styled hair, the light scruff always present on his chiseled jaw, and don’t get me started on his body. Ugh, it’s perfect. Every contour and fine sinew of muscle ripples with his movements. It’s erotically mesmerizing, especially when he’s on top of a platform wearing a little scrap of fabric. Seriously, I‘m not kidding when I say I would love a one-night stand with him, but I know that’s not in the cards. He wants way more than that.
“I’m a relationship guy, I told you that. I know it’s hard to believe with my good looks and all, but I don’t fuck around. I find a woman I like and I commit to her. Simple as that.”
Just because I’m curious as hell, I ask, “What happened with the other girls? How come you’re not married yet if you’re such a romantic?”
Why am I on the edge on my seat waiting to hear his answer? There is something seriously wrong with me.
“I might be a romantic but I’m also intelligent enough to know that the connections I’ve had with women, although wonderful at the time, wouldn’t pan out for something in the long run. That’s what I’m looking for, someone to grow old with, something like my parents have.”
Long-term commitment. Something I have no experience with. Something I’ve never seen play out in front of me.
“I guess you’re picky.”
“I am and I know when I see something with lots of potential.”
There’s no denying he’s referring to me. But how could he be so sure? We barely know each other. We’ve only interacted through a few face-to-face conversations and mostly text messages and a few calls, nothing that would solidify future plans. So I ask myself again, how can he be so sure about me?
Clearing my throat and wanting to change the subject, I say, “You were talking about being a conservationist.”
He chuckles, the noise so erotic in my ears. Fuck. Me.
“Changing the topic when you’re uncomfortable, I get you, sugar tits. We can change the topic, back to my question before we were diverted by your Orlando Bloom-penis comment. Since I like to help Mother Nature, I thought we could ride to the barbeque together and before you say no,” he says quickly, “I already talked to Reese and he said he only has room for one car in his driveway, so that means we kind of have to ride together.”
“I highly doubt Reese King only has room for one car in his driveway. Smooth lie though.”
“Does that mean you will ride with me?”
I bite on my bottom lip and weigh out my options. Either way, I’m going to have to see the man, might as well save on gas.
“Sure. But no hand holding.”
I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I will take what I can get, baby. Fuck, I can’t wait.”
Who knew a man could be so happy about driving another person to a gathering? Who knew a man could sound so determined and intent on spending time with me? Why is that so endearing? Ugh, this man is going to get the best of me, I can feel it already.
So why did I just give in to his question? Gas isn’t that expensive anymore . . .
Chapter Nine
HOLLIS
“Why are you rushing? We have to go over our workout and talk about our positives and negatives.”
Any other day I would never try to duck out on my sister but I have to pick up Melony for the barbeque, and I won’t be late. Just from the brief interactions I’ve had with her, I can sense she’s skittish, that she doesn’t trust much. I want to make sure she can trust me. When I tell her I’m going to pick her up at a certain time, you can bet your ass I’ll be there on time, even a few minutes early. I don’t ever want to her to not be able to trust me.
Ever.
Knowing Holly won’t let me leave without telling her what’s going on, I confess. “Remember that girl I was telling you about a little bit ago?”
“The one who won’t give you the time of day?”
Of course Holly wouldn’t miss one of my shortcomings. She loves rubbing it in when she gets a chance.
“Yes, that one. Her name is Melony. Reese is having a small gathering today and he invited us. Melony lives in my complex and I offered to drive her.” With a bright smile and my chest puffed, I say, “And she agreed.”
The moment she said yes, I did a private dance in my condo. I fist-pumped the air so fucking hard.
“She agreed to you driving her to a gathering. So you’re her chauffer?” Holly shows no hint of happiness for me.
“It’s more than that. I’ve been busting my ass to spend a little alone time with this girl, so I’m fucking stoked I get to drive her.”
Holly looks at me as if I’m crazy but I don’t care. I woke up this morning with one thing on my mind: getting to see Melony and spending some time with her. Fuck, it’s driven me to have one of my best practices since Coach Wilson passed. A little bit of it has to do with Holly and her coaching technique, but I also think it has to do with the potential I see in my future with Melony.
“Whatever works for you. Tomorrow morning we’ll go over what we accomplished today. Does that work?”
“You’re the best, Holls.” I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead. “I would love to stay and watch you beast mode it in the gym but I have to shower and get the hell out of here.”
“Okay, but be safe driving. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you were a few minutes late. And don’t look at your phone when driving.”
As if she has to remind me. I would never make that mistake again.
&nb
sp; As long as I fucking live.
“You got it, Holls.” I shoot her a wink and say, “See you in the morning.”
I spend the next ten minutes showering, dressing, and shooting a text to Melony that I’m on my way. Thankfully I already purchased some beer to take to Reese’s barbeque, so I don’t have to stop at the store.
This is going to be the best fucking car ride of my life. And who knows, I might take the long route to create a few extra moments with her.
Future wife, here I fucking come.
***
Well, that was the worst fucking drive of my entire life.
All my expectations of making a special connection with Melony flew right out the window when she refused to look at me and only answered me with single words, never elaborating. I’ve had much longer conversations with her before. What’s so different about today?
Did she not like my car? Hell, I know it’s a Prius, not the manliest car in the world, but I save the earth.
I park in Reese’s driveway and turn to Melony who is evacuating the vehicle at rapid speed.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” I ask, slightly insulted she can’t seem to leave fast enough.
With one foot out the door, she turns to me and says, “No fire, just getting out. You don’t expect me to just sit in the car with you, do you?”
“Wow.” I tilt my head and study her. “That was the most you said to me all drive.”
She shrugs. “There wasn’t much to talk about.”
I raise a surprised eyebrow at her. “I asked you what your favorite cuisine was and your answer was yes. Last time I checked ‘yes’ wasn’t a type of cuisine.” Her face reddens. “So what’s the rush?”
She looks down at the pie she’s brought and says, “I don’t know. Just excited about barbeque.”
Lie, such a big fat lie, but I will let it slide because I by no means want to push her. Nope, I’m going to take my time with Melony. I don’t want to scare her away.
“Well then, let’s get fucking to it.” She glances at me for a second, a little suspicion in her eyes but I don’t let her examine me for too long.
We walk up to the door together, light beer in my hands—I still have a diet I have to worry about—and a pie in hers, which I will be eating at least two pieces of. Yes, I have a diet but I also have a sweet tooth that hasn’t been fed in a while. It’s time to indulge and I can’t think of a better thing to eat than Melony’s pussy . . . I mean pie! Pie! I want to eat her pie. Fuck, I want to eat her pussy too.
It takes a few minutes for Reese to answer the door but once he does, I wish he didn’t. Dude looks like hell. Woof!
“Well, don’t look like you want to kill yourself,” I say sarcastically not bothering to wait for a response but instead letting myself into his place.
From the entryway, I can hear Melony’s sweet voice say, “I made some chocolate pudding pie, it’s all sugar-free.” Fuck she’s adorable. Sugar-free wouldn’t be my first option but if Melony made a shit pie for me like in The Help, I would eat it. Dedication, men, it’s what makes a true romantic.
“Thanks, you can put it in the fridge for now. Looks good, Mel,” Reese sounds off.
Melony and Reese meet me in the kitchen. Melony quickly puts her pie in the fridge as I open one of my beers and take a sip. Reese seriously looks like he’s on death row, constantly checking his phone. He must be waiting to hear from Paisley. Shit, if I was with Melony and I didn’t hear from her, I would most likely look just as crazed.
The best thing about having a friend like Reese, is you can bust his balls when he’s out of sorts and he won’t punch your dick off. “Grip that phone a little tighter and an itty-bitty gnome might pop out,” I say with a smirk.
Reese shoots daggers at me, but that’s the most harm he will do. He then eyes my beer and says in a gruff tone, “Shouldn’t you be watching what you imbibe?”
I hold up my hands in defense. “Hey, Mom, get off my back. I just made the Olympic team, pounded it out in the gym and on the tramp today, so my shit’s covered. Let me enjoy a beer. Damn, what’s your problem? You’re the one who invited us over for a cookout. Is Paisley in the back? She needs to calm you down.” Poke the bear, that’s all I’m doing, poking the bear. Why? Because it’s fun. He would be doing the same fucking thing to me right now if roles were reversed.
Once again, he gives me a dirty look. “She’s not here.”
Maybe sensing the tension building, even though it’s playful tension, Melony adds to the conversation, something she didn’t bother to partake in on the drive over. Difficult woman. “She’s coming though. I talked to her about it today. When I left Bellini earlier, she was still there, addressing envelopes to celebrities for the fashion show Bellini is putting on later in the year.”
I sometimes forget Melony works for Bellini. She’s so nice and sweet, and it’s hard to associate her with someone of Bellini’s narcissistic status. “Fashion show?” I ask, looking for any reason to talk to Melony. “What is she going to show off? Different colored sweater sets?”
“Dog fashion show,” Melony answers, a quirk to her lips. “She’s created a line of religious wear for dogs. She’s gathering auditions now for models.”
Now this fucking interests me, even though I’m slightly confused. “Dog models?”
“Dude, you know she’s fucking insane. Why do you even try to understand?” Reese points out, while grabbing a light beer for himself. I can sense he’s giving zero fucks right about now with what he drinks, thanks to Paisley’s tardiness. Man, he’s wound up about this girl; it must be serious. This would be normal behavior for me, but not for Reese. I’ve never seen him act like this before.
Thinking about dog models, I say, “What if I want Taco to walk in the show? Might be a good opportunity for my little chihuahua to get some exposure. You know I’ve been thinking about breaking her into the acting side of dog careers.”
Taco actually belonged to Holly but I took him in after the accident since it would be too hard for her to recover, go to physical therapy, and take care of a small dog she rescued from a shelter.
But I’ve kept him. We formed a manly bond, and there is no going back for him. Holly has accepted his choice and cashes in on her visiting rights when she gets a chance.
“You have a chihuahua?” Melony asks. I can see the judgment in her eyes. It’s not every day you see a strong, muscular man like myself carrying around a little dog, but it’s true, and I own that shit, and every wardrobe item he owns.
Liking she’s engaging in conversation with me, I sidle up next to her, intent on milking this conversation as much as I can. “If you actually let me take you out on a date like I’ve been asking for a while now, you would know that.”
She rolls her eyes. “I told you, Hollis. I don’t date.”
“What about a late-night fuck? I’m sure you do those.”
She sizes up my six-foot stature. “Not with men who drink light beers and own dogs smaller than a cat.”
“Ouch.” I feign hurt. Girl knows how to throw some zingers but I fucking like it. I’ve always enjoyed her feisty side.
Reese pulls his head out of his ass for a second to engage in our conversation. “She’s got a point, man.”
Payback’s a bitch, but I will take it.
Curious, I ask, “So if I drank Guinness and had a St. Bernard, where would we stand?”
A smart smile peeks past Melony’s lips. “Then I would probably be taking you to the back of Reese’s house right now to give you what you want.”
Once again, I know she’s lying, but damn if I don’t get a little turned on by her answer.
“Hell.” Quickly making work, I search Amazon on my phone and start typing away.
“What are you doing?” Melony laughs, trying to take a peek at my screen.
“Searching to see if an Amazon drone will deliver a St. Bernard and a six-pack of Guinness to me right now.”
“Pretty sure those drones don’t carry dogs,
man,” Reese says, squashing my pretend dreams.
“But what if they did?” I counter.
Reese doesn’t answer, he just shakes his head and says, “I’m going to start getting dinner ready. Why don’t you two go enjoy the sunset outside?”
That’s my cue to lead Melony outside for some private time. Being a little daring, I place my hand on her lower back and wave my hand toward the pool, escorting her out to Reese’s backyard. It’s quite secluded, closed off from his neighbors by plush trees and shrubbery, giving it a homey feel. Scattered around the pool are black-and-white-striped cushioned lounge chairs with matching teak tables between each set of two. One day I will have a house of my own and I will take pride in its appearance like Reese does.
I can’t wait to own a house, a place to call mine. I have plenty of money for such a purchase thanks to my multiple endorsement deals, Olympic gold wins, and investing in all the right places—thanks, Dad—but I’m not ready to buy a house for one reason and one reason alone. I want to buy a house with the love of my life. I want to buy a property with her that we can create all on our own. I don’t want her to move into my place and try to make it a part of hers as well. No, I want to hold my girl’s hand while we go house hunting, looking for the just the right place that’s the combination of both of us.
It’s going to be Melony. I can feel it in my fucking bones. We will be picking out a house together one day. You might wonder why I keep persisting, but I see something in my girl. She had her heart broken once, and I know I’m the one who can provide healing. She’s funny, clever, and fucking gorgeous. How could I not want her as my forever?
“So why Taco?”
“What?” I ask, confused by her question thanks to my daydreaming.
“Your dog’s name, why did you name him Taco?”
“Oh, I didn’t name him,” I say casually, starting to get nervous about this set of questions. I will talk to Melony about anything, except for one thing: my sister. Since Taco once belonged to Holly, that makes him unwanted conversation. “My sister did. She just thought it would be funny.” I keep my answer vague, not welcoming any other questions.