by Kennedy Fox
“There you are.” Joran’s arm slides around my back. He’s a nice guy. Dresses in expensive suits, drives fast cars, not overly arrogant but enough to be sexy.
“Sorry there was a bit of a wait at the bar,” I say, smiling at the man in front of me.
“Saige, this is Carl Gerhardt. This is his party.” Joran motions between us.
Carl puts out his bear paw of a hand and I shake it. “Welcome, Saige.”
“Your home is beautiful.” Understatement of the year.
He smiles and I catch a hint of a silver cap in the back. How can a man who can afford to own half of Florida not have an implant? “Thank you. The wife decorates.”
I bite my tongue at the fact that he just referred to his wife as ‘the wife’ and not by her name. Maybe it’s a generational thing. If I was with my own people, I might make an offside comment, but I barely know Joran and I’m not going to make him look bad.
“Well she did an amazing job.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.” He sets his gaze on Joran. “Now what were you telling me, that Drake still has it? He’s going through something?”
Joran tenses next to me. “He’s just stuck in his head. Thinks his luck has run dry.”
I let my gaze linger around the room because sports don’t really interest me. Joran’s a sports agent for professional athletes and Mr. Gerhardt is the owner of the Florida Fury hockey team. I assume they’re talking about one of the players and how ridiculous it is that he thinks his career success is based on luck.
I remind myself that I’m just bitter after finding myself at an impasse in my own career and deciding to manage other people’s social media. At first it was a one off in order to pay my bills. Then I was referred by that person because they were happy with my work. Joran found me for one of his clients and that’s how we met. I even have one employee under me now, so I shouldn’t complain that athletes make millions of dollars to throw a ball or skate across some ice.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back to being a top scorer in no time. I’m booking him in with a psychologist.” Joran puts his hand in front of the big man who looks skeptical at best about this Drake guy.
“That’s a good idea. You know my daughter was saying how she thinks we should bring a psychologist in for the entire team. Have open hours.”
Joran nods. “It’s not a bad idea. I think the Georgia Blades did it.”
“Really?” Mr. Gebhardt asks.
“You don’t have to do it just because Ned is.” Joran laughs. It’s annoyingly fake, but I understand that most of his job is schmoozing people.
I’d never make it in that profession. As it is, I bite my tongue when my clients post on their social media without consulting me, with the usual excuse that they want to connect with fans. Newsflash: arguing when someone makes a negative comment isn’t going to gain more fans.
Mr. Gebhardt clasps Joran on the shoulder. “You know me well.” He laughs and Joran does too. Mr. Gebhardt winks at me and disappears into the crowd. I guess the conversation is over.
“Interesting man.”
“That man makes me a lot of money.” Joran sips his from the glass holding his dark alcohol. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.
I nod, sipping my wine. “It’s beautiful here.”
“You should see outside. He has an entire orange orchard on his property.”
“And does Sunkist pay him for his oranges?” I look around at the fancy chandeliers and expensive woodwork and marble.
Joran laughs. “You harp on money too much.”
I don’t say anything, but you tend to notice these things when you grow up with nothing. So I just smile.
“JORAN!” a guy screams and raises his hand up in the air.
“I’m going to get some air,” I whisper.
Joran nods but he’s already on to master level schmoozing with the guy who’s approached him.
I smile, weaving through the crowd. As I grab a cheese puff off a tray, I walk out the backdoors to find the dark ocean. For a moment I consider slipping off my sandals and allowing the sand to wiggle between my toes.
It’d be nice to sit on the beach and reflect on this past year. A year that hasn’t been my best, but not my worst either.
Walking out to the balcony that overlooks the pool below, I rest my elbows and sip my wine wishing I’d gotten another glass. A couple walks up the concrete steps, the woman giggling in his hold. My heart pricks, yearning for that.
“And now I find you out here all alone?” I glance over my shoulder, surprised to find the guy from earlier, approaching me. His tie is loose around his neck now and he’s got a bottle of beer instead of a glass like earlier. “If I was your date, I wouldn’t leave you alone so much.”
“Nice line. How many women have you used that on tonight?”
He leans his side against the railing, facing me. “It’s not a line, it’s a fact. Just look at what’s happening right now. Your date is letting a guy like me slide right in and get all your attention.”
“Maybe he’s secure with what we have?”
He moves his head side to side. “Is he?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “This is more of a work function for him,” I answer honestly. Joran really shouldn’t even bother bringing dates.
“Is he one of the waiters?”
I choke on my wine. “What?”
He chuckles and the deep timbre of his voice spurs my belly into flutters. “I’m here for work and look at all the time I have.” He pushes off the ledge and walks toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He stops at the first step. “Why are you going to miss me?”
“I just want to know which way to point the police when you go missing.”
He chuckles again and I get that fuzzy feeling in my stomach again. This is all a bad idea.
“I’m going to see if the orange orchard really exists.”
“You make it sound like you’re looking for the golden treasure at the end of a rainbow.”
He shrugs then looks to the door that leads back into the party. “Want to join me?”
I say nothing at first, finishing my wine and setting my glass on the table.
“Or I guess when he’s ready, he’ll seek you out. You should probably stay here.”
Stay here, Saige. You do not need to run off into an orchard with some heartthrob of a man. But a part of me has always loved the bad boys. The ones who break your heart, but you have so much fun headed down that path that you don’t notice you caught feelings until it’s too late.
“First one to find it wins and owes the other one.”
He finishes his bottle of beer and leans forward placing it on the table by my wine glass then runs his hands together. “Owes the other what?”
I start down the concrete steps. “The loser has to jump in the ocean.”
“Easy,” he says.
“Naked,” I say.
He grins. “I can’t wait to see that dress slide down your body.” He nods to the right. “I say it’s this way.”
“Hope you’re right,” I taunt.
He chuckles. “Me too.”
There’s worry in his voice and I’m surprised to see him lack the cockiness that’s been there since we met. Ugh. This is even worse. A bad boy with a wounded ego is my kryptonite. I should run back up the stairs and find Joran. I shouldn’t take off my heels and I shouldn’t follow him. But I do.
Chapter Three
AIDEN
“I’m Aiden,” I say in case she didn’t figure that out earlier.
“So your admirer said. Saige.” Her heels hang off her fingers.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Sometimes as a professional athlete you can tend to think people know who you are but with Saige… I’m not sure if she does. If she does, she hasn’t given it away.
“So, Saige, don’t you think your date is going to miss you?”
&nbs
p; We walk along the perfectly manicured lawn toward where I think the orchard exists.
“You didn’t much care about my date when you asked me to join you. Why don’t we just not talk about him?”
“Does that mean I’m right and you don’t have one?”
Under the moonlight, I catch her rolling her eyes.
“Let’s see, your date is off the table… how about your job?”
She shrugs. “I’m a social media manager.”
I laugh. “You manage other people’s social media accounts?”
She playfully shoves me. “I do.”
“Why can’t they do it themselves or dare I even suggest they just not have a social media presence if they don’t want to handle it themselves.”
The hell if I’ll ever get one. Of course, there was that douchebag who pretended to be me for a while, so Joran made me sign up for some accounts to claim my username. Accounts I never use.
“It helps my clients.”
“And who are your clients?”
“Professionals, athletes and people who need to have a public persona but prefer privacy.”
“How do you keep anything private when social media is involved?”
She stops for a moment and turns to me. “You sound bitter. What is it that you do, Aiden?”
I’m enjoying her company. Her comebacks and the hint of attitude she has—it might all turn off the minute she finds out I’m a professional hockey player. “Nothing that requires me to have a social media manager. I hate everything there is to do with social media.”
“I agree, it can be addictive and annoying, but to defend myself a little bit, I think of it like I’m helping my clients have a life. I mean being a professional athlete takes a lot of time away from their lives, so if I can take a little off their plate so they can spend time with the people they care about and be present in the moment with them while at the same time keep their fans happy, it’s a win-win.”
I blow out a breath. “When you put it like that, I get it.”
“Whoa, did you just say I was right?”
I point ahead of us. The orchard has to be there. “No, I did not.”
“You did. Admit it.” She gives my rib a poke with her finger.
I cover the area like she hurt me. As if she could. “Come on. It’s over there.”
“I think we went the wrong way.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see.” I shrug.
We walk the path toward where I think I see trees, but five minutes later we arrive there and nothing. Damn, I thought for sure I was right.
“Maybe it doesn’t exist?”
She makes an annoying buzzing sound like I’m on a game show and gave the wrong answer. “Time to try my way. But can we walk along the ocean?” Before I can answer, she walks toward the shore.
I follow her, admiring the way the moonlight shines over her body and take a moment to appreciate her ass in the short champagne colored sequin dress she’s wearing. She tiptoes her way in and backtracks with a yelp from the temperature of the water.
As much as I hate to admit it myself, I really do hope she’s not here with a date.
“Are you afraid of the water?” she asks.
I blink out of my thoughts of a what-if scenario. It’s not feasible anyway. I’ve tried and failed at plenty of relationships since I hit the professional level. Even in college it was impossible. The women always became jealous and self-conscious.
I slip off my shoes and stuff my socks inside, rolling up the bottoms of my pants. “Your screech from the temperature had me thinking you’d change your mind.” I join her near the edge and the water runs over my feet. It’s fucking cold but I’m not telling her that. I clench my jaw and take it like a man.
“Look at you mister tough guy.” She points and laughs.
“I’m fine.”
“Really? That jaw of yours is pretty tight.” Her fingers go after my ribs. “Are you ticklish?”
Fuck yeah, I am and the minute she’s able to get her hands on my ribs, I squirm to get away, trying to mask my reaction. She’s so close that the soft breeze floats her perfume right past my nostrils. Her laughter is infectious but still I run away from her and the cold water.
After I’m on safe ground she bends over in a fit of laughter. “Why do men have to act so tough?” She walks, kicking the water up in the air. I’m not sure what it is about her. Maybe the carefreeness to kick around the ocean in a fancy dress or the way she calls me out on my shit, but whatever it is I’m here for it.
“Hey, I’m from Wisconsin, I was raised not to show emotions.” Not really. My mom always told me I could cry. It was my grandfather who said I couldn’t.
“Wisconsin? Farm boy? Did you have to wake up early and milk the cows?”
Typical stereotypes of my hometown state.
“We’re the other Wisconsinites. We own a bar and serve a fish fry every Friday and brats every Sunday.”
“Ah,” she says and nods knowingly.
“Are you a Floridian?”
She glances over at me. She was stunning inside the mansion, but out in the wild with the moonlight cast down upon her, she’s breathtaking. “Nope. I’m from Idaho.”
“Oh, so you like potatoes?”
She rolls her eyes again. “Hardy har, farm boy.”
“What brought you to Florida?”
She shrugs. “I stupidly followed a boy.”
“Who’s not the same person as your date tonight?”
She giggles and knocks her shoulder against mine. “Absolutely not.”
“Sorry,” I offer.
“For what? Are you the guy who got me down here only to cheat on me?”
“No, but guys are jackasses. I guess I’m apologizing for the male species as a whole.”
“What about you? Girlfriend?”
“Hey now, if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be here with you. I’m not a douche like your ex.”
She stops for a second and stares at me. “What’s with you? You don’t seem to fit in up there.” She nods to the house.
This seems like a good moment, so I step forward, closer to her and cup her cheek. “I told you, I’m here for work. And I’m having way too much fun with you to ever entertain going back in there.”
“Aiden,” she says, stepping back. “I’m here with someone.”
“Really?” I whisper, lowering my hand from cupping her cheek.
“Yeah, really. And I’m having a great time with you too, but that wouldn’t be fair to him.”
I step back, the moment over.
Her gaze shifts up and she points. “There it is! I was right.”
She jogs down the beach and up to rows of trees with orange globes shining under the moon.
Hell, I know she’s with someone, but it’s been so long since I enjoyed my time with someone like I am right now. I guess I’ll have to deal with being friend zoned. If anything, it keeps me out of that damn party. I follow her to the orange orchard, hoping we get lost for a little while longer.
Chapter Four
SAIGE
“Looks like you’re going to have to get in that water tough guy.” I turn around and face him, still pointing at the water.
He casually strolls to meet me at the edge of the orchard then reaches up and grabs an orange, pulling it from the tree before he bites into it to start the peel. The whole thing comes off as manly and sexual I realize that I’m turned-on by a man who isn’t my date.
It would’ve been so easy to kiss him back there on the beach. I’m clearly attracted to him and his laid-back attitude is intriguing. But I came here with Jaron though it might not go anywhere with him after tonight. Maybe if Aiden wants my number, I’ll give it to him.
That doesn’t make me super slutty, right? Then again, it’s not as though Jaron has been attentive tonight.
He nestles the rines by the tree stump and pulls apart the slices of orange. “Do you want some?” He holds out a piece and I take it from him.
It’s so juicy, it drips down my chin when I bite into it. “So good,” I say.
He makes an animalistic noise in his throat that makes my lady bits buzz like I just flipped on my favorite vibrator. I clench my thighs together to dull the ache. “It’s funny you know. I come down here and everyone stereotypes Wisconsin with cows, cheese, and Packer fans. While everyone from Wisconsin razzed me about being down here with oranges and sunshine.”
I put out my two hands like I’m weighing the options.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I know, but you have no idea what a fresh pack of cheese curds tastes like.”
“Like my bowels blocking?”
“Well Miss Idaho, how do you like your potatoes?”
“Hey now, we have mountains, and we are called the gem state because it’s the place to mine for gems.”
“I’ll have to remember that. So, mining for gems while having an unlimited amount of starchy carbohydrates or eating oranges from a tree while hearing the ocean waves crashing on the shore?”
“After a week, I felt like I was home,” I admit, although a month later when my boyfriend broke my heart, I could’ve upped and returned to my hometown. But I can be stubborn and a bullheaded and I would never prove my parents right by admitting to them that my ex was a no-good loser.
He nods. “Yeah.” His gaze goes toward the ocean. “I really like the water. I mean we have Lake Michigan, but it’s not the ocean.” He shrugs.
“Okay then, answer this. Let’s say you have kids someday, where do you want to raise them?”
“Kids?” His voice comes out all squeaky like I kicked him in the balls. “Things are moving so quickly. We haven’t even kissed, and you want to bear my children?”
I laugh and steal another slice of the orange, walking down the orchard row.
“I’ve never been orange picking. The trees are so high.”
He holds out his hand and I take another slice. “Apple picking is big up in Wisconsin.” His neck cranes when he looks up at the trees and I catch sight of his Adam Apple. “They are pretty tall.”