by Grey, S. R.
That’s on top of a ten-hour day.
Worse still, it’s extra time I will not get paid for.
I have no recourse, however. I need to make nice and finish strong in order to earn all the credits for my internship that’ll count toward my MBA.
Second bad thing today—something was wrong with my lunch.
I ordered a fish taco from a sketchy food truck—my mistake—and I’ve been paying for it with a queasy stomach ever since.
Though I have to say I am feeling a little better since it’s almost time to go.
Still, I’m not eating for the rest of the day.
Dinner can go suck it.
“Okay, I am out of here,” I murmur as I shut down my work computer and head out to my car.
My bad day reaches a crashing crescendo, almost literally, when, as I’m leaving the office and merging into traffic, some maniac cuts me off.
“Asshole!” I scream as I slam on the brakes in the nick of time.
The prick just drives off, shooting me the bird.
Can you believe it?
“I swear I’m going to kill someone,” I grind out.
After thinking it over, I amend, “No, you’re not killing anyone, Noelle. You have great restraint. That’s why what you’re going to do instead is stop somewhere on the way home for a nice cold glass of Chablis. Honey, you’ve earned it after today.”
Yes, yes I have.
Not to mention, an innocent glass of Chablis is far more preferable to murdering someone.
Yeah, wine won’t land you in prison.
“In fact,” I go on as I merge into traffic, this time without incident, “a little Chablis shouldn’t cause you any problems, Noelle. Just don’t go overboard, as you haven’t had much to eat today. Besides that fishy fish taco, of course.”
I make a face at that thought, and my stomach does a little flip-flop.
Yeah, for sure I’ll be avoiding food wherever it is that I stop for that drink.
Sad thing is I don’t even know where to go. I’m not super familiar with the area around my internship.
Sighing, I drive around aimlessly, searching for a bar that looks nice and not scary as fuck.
I can’t believe I haven’t been out on the town in so long. Apart from the fact my damn internship takes up all my time, there’s really been no one to go out with lately.
My twin brother, Noel, is still over in Sweden. He would’ve been back by now, but he met some girl and is apparently staying on.
I suspect he’ll be MIA until September, when the Wolves’ preseason begins.
Then he’ll have no choice but to return.
Wonder if he’ll bring his new girlfriend back with him.
I don’t know, and right now I don’t care. I’ve been too damn lonely lately. Even my best friend, Cara, who would have definitely gone out with me tonight, isn’t around to even ask.
Nope, she’s down in Florida at my brother’s beach house, hooking up with one of his teammates.
Jesus, Noel would kill me if I ever did something like that.
The one thing he’s always asked of me is to not date any of his teammates. Really, he doesn’t want me dating any hockey players, since a lot of them are such man-whores.
Whatever.
There aren’t any I’m interested in, anyway.
But someone sure does catch my eye when I finally find and stroll into a bar for that glass of Chablis.
In the back of the place, I spot the most gorgeous guy.
I mean, damn, can you say smokin’ hot?
This dude is beyond sexy with his model good looks.
I take him in.
He has a strong jaw, defined cheekbones, and thick, dark hair. Hair I could definitely see myself running my fingers through.
Mmm, yes.
And his stunning face?
I’d like to kiss every part of it, from his aquiline nose to his slight stubble.
But let’s be real.
This dude probably gets attention all the time.
That’s why I stay put behind a pole just inside the doorway.
Hot Guy can’t see me from there.
But I sure see him.
As I appreciate the view, I order that well-deserved glass of Chablis from a passing waitress.
The place is fairly crowded, so I’m able to watch the beautiful man from afar without him noticing.
Gah, he oozes primal, raw sex appeal, even from this distance.
And the dark jeans and black shirt he has on look really good. Though he could make anything, even rags, look great, with that sexy, hard bod he’s rocking.
After downing my first Chablis rather hastily—yes, Hot Guy makes me thirsty as hell—I order a second.
A short time later, I’m going for Chablis number three.
At this point, the alcohol’s definitely hitting me.
I know this because I have a sudden urge to approach the dude I’m surveilling—er, I mean observing.
Oh, what the hell.
I start toward the back of the bar, making my way through the thinning crowd.
Though I’m buzzed, I’m cognizant enough to know that I need to play it cool. I’ve interacted with men like this one before—you know, hot as hell—and found that they generally love a challenge.
So a challenge I will be.
For sure, I think, considering the cocky bastard has already shot down two women.
Yeah, I watched all that.
And now it’s my turn.
Look out, buddy. I’m going to make you work for it.
Hot Guy doesn’t need to know I’ve been watching him from afar, panting over his hot ass…and his hot shoulders…and his hot biceps.
Really, Noelle, stop. This is not playing it cool.
No, it’s not.
But this is…
Casually, I take a seat on the vacated stool next to my mark. After a quick, dismissive glance his way, I turn my back on him, pretending he’s not even here.
That should pique his interest.
And it does.
Ooh, I feel his smoky, deep-set brown eyes on me, assessing.
And damn if I don’t start tingling in places long dormant.
Ha, I’m not that easy, though.
With my back still facing Hot Guy, I order yet another Chablis from the flirty bartender.
How many is that, Noelle?
Oh, who cares!
Finally, I twist to sit normally, and as I do, I swear I overhear Hot Guy muttering something that makes me think he’s getting up the nerve to talk to me.
Yes!
And good!
I want him nervous but still willing to make a move.
Everything is going just as I planned, until some rando saunters up and plops down on my unoccupied side.
What the…?
“Hey, little lady,” the creepy dude says. “What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”
Really, is this guy for real?
It’s bad enough that he looks like an extra from a seventies porn flick—you know, cheesy mustache, polyester suit, and outdated Foster Grants—but his pickup line is for shit.
Resisting the urge to laugh, I thumb over to my hot neighbor and say, “Sorry, but my boyfriend is with me at this ‘fine establishment.’ That means it’s probably best if you were to move on.”
Seventies Dude takes one long look at my hot-as-sin neighbor, all big and über-buff, and starts apologizing immediately.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone, miss.”
“Clearly,” I reply.
He leaves then.
Phew, crisis averted.
As I take a dainty sip from my glass, I hear a low, sexy chuckle coming from my left.
Venturing a glance in the direction of my new pretend boyfriend, I’m suddenly overcome with lust.
I want him.
I need him.
Wait, is that the Chablis talking?
Hot Guy smirks like he kno
ws what I’m thinking.
What happened to his hesitance?
That’s clearly gone.
In an effort to regain the upper hand, I roll my eyes annoyedly at him.
I need to get back to playing it cool, or he’ll know for sure that I’m lusting hard for his ass.
Though I think he already suspects as much.
He must, as he suddenly says to me, all sexy-like, “Nice shutdown on that little weird-looking dude.”
I reply coolly, “And what makes you think you’re not next?”
The smug bastard peers right past me to the vacated stool and snarks, “Maybe because there are no more candidates to play another pretend boyfriend.”
Ooh, he’s good.
But I’m better.
Chuffing, I say, “Perhaps I just don’t want any male companionship tonight, weird-looking or not.”
Laughing, Hot Guy says, “Is that so?”
I shrug and look away. “Yes. Or, uh, maybe.”
“You don’t sound so sure,” he murmurs.
My eyes snap back to his, and there’s a snotty retort on the tip of my tongue.
But suddenly, I can’t find my voice.
Why does this man, who is so purely male, have to be so damn sexy?
Still, intent on keeping him on his toes, I man up and volley back, “How would you know whether I sound sure or not? You don’t know me.”
Folding his arms over his wide chest, he says, “You’re absolutely right. I don’t know you. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. We could always—”
“God, you are so arrogant.”
“—start by introducing ourselves,” he continues right over me, raising a questioning brow.
Oops.
My cheeks warm as I sheepishly reply, “Sorry. I thought you were going to say something else.”
Raising his beer to his mouth, he mumbles, “Clearly.”
Crap, I need to fix this.
The tables have turned.
Whatever hesitation this man had has long since dissipated.
He’s back in control.
And if that doesn’t make my panties wet…
Ugh, I freaking want him now more than ever.
But if I do hook up with this guy—and I really, really want to—it needs to be a one-and-done kind of deal. I’m not looking for a friends-with-benefits type of situation. And I highly doubt Hot Guy is the settling down kind.
That’s okay.
I just need sex tonight.
It’s been too long.
One time with this beautiful man and I should be good for a while.
I bet he’s amazing in the sack too.
I hope so.
I can go back to my friendly vibrator with memories of him queued up and ready to go.
Hot Guy starts to introduce himself, but I quickly cut him off. “First names only, okay?”
“Uhhh…” He looks confused but goes along. “All right. I’m Blake.”
“I’m Noelle,” I reply.
“Nice to meet you, Noelle.”
Ooh, I like the way he says my name.
“You too,” I murmur.
“So”—he nods at me, indicating my business clothes—“I guess you’re coming from work?”
I hedge, “Yeah, something like that. But, uh, I don’t think I want to talk about work, either.”
Raising a sexy brow, he says, “Rough day, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Okay, fine.” He holds up his hands. “No work talk from either of us.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out.
I then take a long sip of Chablis, nearly emptying my glass.
Blake motions for the bartender and asks me, “Would you like another?”
I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
As he places the order, I detect the tiniest bit of a New York accent. Not like that of a true New Yorker. No, this is more like someone who may have lived there just long enough to have picked up a tiny touch of an accent.
Once the bartender leaves us alone, I ask Blake, “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” he confirms.
Ooh, this is even better. Maybe he’s on a business trip or something.
Perfect.
I can bang him and never have to worry about running into him ever again.
To clarify, I ask, “Has your work brought you to Las Vegas?”
Chuckling, Blake says, “As a matter of fact, Noelle, it has.”
I nod slowly. “Huh, okay, that’s good to know. It’s very good to know, in fact.”
Giving me an I-see-how-we’re-going-to-play-this smirk, Blake says, “Don’t worry. I won’t bore you with the details of what I do.”
I raise my newly arrived glass of Chablis and say, “I’m down with that. I like to keep things simple.”
He tips his beer bottle my way, stating, “I couldn’t agree more.”
This Is So On
Okay, this Noelle chick is beyond intriguing. She slays me. No last names, no discussion of what we do for a living. You’d think she was the guy in this scenario.
That’s cool, though.
I can live with it.
I’d rather her not know I’m a professional hockey player. I’ve found that women get weird when they find that out.
So, yeah, my profession is the last thing I plan on mentioning.
With her ground rules set, Noelle and I go on to talk about everything but ourselves—the weather, Las Vegas in general, what drinks we like, and how she hasn’t eaten anything since lunch because her stomach’s been bothering her.
“I’m okay now,” she says, cocking her head and looking really cute. “It was that damn sketchy fish taco I ordered that messed me up.”
“It probably was,” I agree, nodding understandingly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”
“Yeah, me too.” She sighs, raising her glass and waving it around, the liquid sloshing everywhere.
Noelle is obviously a little buzzed, so I ask, “Would you like something to eat now? You must be hungry, and I can easily grab a menu from the bartender.”
But Noelle, shaking her head, insists, “No, I’m good.”
I raise a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Blake. I’m sure.”
Okaaay.
Nodding to her half-empty wineglass, I mutter, “Er, maybe we should make that your last Chablis for a while.”
Rolling her beautiful blue eyes at me, she replies, “Thanks, Dad. But really, I’m good.”
I shrug.
Fine.
I’m not going to fight her on this. She’s an adult.
So, nodding, I murmur, “Point taken. It’s just that I know from experience that drinking on an empty stomach can hit you hard and fast.”
Taking a sip from her glass, she says airily, “Thanks. I’ll take my chances.”
Noelle sure is an interesting one, feisty and stubborn. But damn, if I don’t like that about her.
Before this goes any further, however, I need to check on something. “Hey, you’re not married, are you?”
She bursts out laughing. “Good God, no, I’m definitely not married.”
“Good, ’cause the last thing I need is a Mr. Noelle after me.”
Licking her lips as she rakes her gaze over my body, she says softly, “Hmmm, even if there were a Mr. Noelle, Blake, I bet you could totally take him.”
I laugh. “You think so, huh?”
“Yeah.” She nods excitedly. “I do. And, on that note, do you want to finally get out of here?”
Whoa, all right.
That was faster than I expected.
But I can roll with it.
“Sure,” I say. “Let me just pay the tab.”
Noelle starts rummaging in her purse, looking disheveled but hot as fuck.
“I can pay my part,” she says.
“No, that’s okay. I got it.”
Zipping up her bag, she says, “Okay. Thanks, B
lake.”
As I take out my wallet, I tell her, “It’s not a problem.”
Noelle’s beauty has me enticed, yes, but I like her as a person too. She’s cute, funny, and spunky. I never would’ve guessed all that from the start, not with her aloof behavior in the beginning.
I chuckle at the thought.
She sure has loosened up since then, probably due to the Chablis. She told me she’d had a couple before she sat down.
Conversely, I switched over to water a good while ago. I’d like to get in a good workout in the morning, and that won’t be happening if I wake up hungover.
Noelle, though, she’s just going for it. It’s probably a good thing that we’re leaving.
After I take care of the tab, she and I head out to the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?” she asks, glancing left and right. “Do you have a rental?”
Ah, that’s right. She thinks I’m in town for business.
Guess it’s time to come clean.
Well, at least regarding that misconception.
“My car’s back at my house,” I say.
She stops in her tracks. “Wait, what? I thought you said you weren’t from around here?”
“I’m not,” I answer honestly. “I’m new in town.”
“Oh, I see.” Noelle bites her lip contemplatively. “But how’d you get here? Did you take an Uber?”
“No. I walked.”
Tilting her head, she peers over at me curiously.
Fuck, does she ever look stunning.
No doubt about it, Noelle whatever-her-last-name-is is one hell of a beautiful woman. I can’t wait to get her in my bed.
The things I plan to do to her…
“Do you live close by?” she asks.
“Yes.” I jerk my thumb in the direction of my neighborhood. “I live pretty much right down the road.”
We haven’t actually stated where we plan to hook up, but it’s looking more and more like it’ll be my place.
That’s fine.
I have furniture now, at least.
There were a couple of pieces I was waiting for, like my bed. But that’s here finally. And perfectly in place, thanks to the decorators.
Sighing, Noelle says, “Okay, I guess we can drive to your house in my car. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely.” I nod. “Sounds like a plan.” I then amend, “Though maybe I should do the driving, huh?”
Smiling, I hold out my hand for her car keys.
Placing the fob in my palm, she says, “Good idea.”