Carson has a look of confusion on his face. “Damn, you just finished? How many hours did you spend at the store?”
“Only a couple, but I got a late start.” What I mean to say is a devilishly sexy Armani clad model posing as a lawyer distracted me, but he doesn’t need the details. Knowing my brother, he’ll keep asking questions, so I might as well tell him now and get it over with. “I made a new friend today and went to lunch with him.”
That one simple word catches his attention. “Him? When did you have time to meet—wait? Don’t tell me you picked up one of those mover guys? I saw the way you were eyeing the one that came to the front door.”
I take a moment to reflect on the memory of Mr. Muscles standing in the doorway earlier—undeniably sexy, but he’s got nothing on Armani. “Um, no. It wasn’t one of the movers. Or the service people.” I look down and pick imaginary fuzz off my skirt, waiting for him to make the connection with the only person besides them that I’ve been around today.
“Well, then who could it be? The only other place you went was to my lawyer’s office.” Realization quickly dawns on him and his eyes widen. “Oh, come on Liz. You seriously didn’t go out with my lawyer, did you?
“What? It’s not that big of a deal. He was leaving for lunch when I got there and he asked me to join him. He’s…nice.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, nice. Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes.”
Carson lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please don’t make trouble for me, okay? I know how you are. As soon as you have your fun with him, he’ll be a distant memory. Remember, I still have to have a working relationship with the guy.”
“Geez, you make me sound like I’m the ‘fuck and run’ type. Like I would fuck him and purposefully try and screw up your life.” I get up, annoyed at what he’s said, but, in all fairness, I shouldn’t be too mad. It was a jerk thing to say, but he’s not far off the mark. I’ve had relationships before, but I never want to be attached like that again. Besides, I’ve moved around a lot with my brother and it’s easier not to have strings making it more difficult to leave. Strings never lead to anything good. I learned that the hard way, and I won’t be making the same mistake anytime soon.
Carson follows me into the kitchen. “You know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I know you don’t like to get into anything serious. I’m sorry if it came out wrong. Look, all I’m saying is that you should be up front with him, that way he doesn’t expect more than what you’re willing to give, okay? And now I’m going to hug you and change the subject because hearing you talk about sex is grossing me out.” I can’t help but laugh when Carson over embellishes a full body shudder and then wraps me up in a big bear hug. I know he loves me and he wants to look out for me. I can’t fault him for being protective. It’s what big brothers do.
“What did you bring for dinner?”
“Shit, I knew I forgot something. See, this is exactly the reason you’re my assistant. I’m lost without you.” I laugh at the truth my brother speaks. Breaking our hug and walking over to the counter, I grab his keys off the marble, tossing them in his direction and watching as he grabs them out of the air.
“You’re driving.”
Chapter Five
Sloan
“You have a date?” Cade slides a beer in front of me, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the bar top, quite intrigued.
“It’s not a date,” I say, taking a large gulp from the frosty beer he slides in front of me, trying not to smile at the thought of Lizzy and our searing kiss in the parking lot yesterday. “I don’t date anymore, you know that.”
He smirks. “Let me get this straight. You’re picking up a girl and taking her to a ballgame. You’ll probably eat dinner at some point and, if all goes well, you’ll get laid at the end of the night. Sorry to break it to you Sloan, but that sounds like a date to me.”
I let out another sigh, changing the subject. “Weren’t you supposed to be proposing to your girlfriend recently? What happened with that? Did you ask her and she turned your ass down? Is that why you have nothing better to do than bother me?” I hint at a smile, letting him know I’m teasing. He must not have asked her yet, because I know Nora, and there’s no way she would have turned him down.
Cade’s shaking his head when I look up at him, a smile across his face. “Nope, I see what you’re doing. And it’s not going to work. You’re not changing the subject. This isn’t about me and Nora. This is about you going out on a date.”
“Who’s got a date?” Ash walks up behind me and takes a seat on the unoccupied stool next to me. Before I can offer a response, Cade answers the question for me. “Sloan does.”
“Fuck, I already told you. It’s not a date.” I glare at Cade first, then turn my attention to Ash. “This girl came into my office yesterday and she’s ridiculously hot. I ended up bringing her here for lunch, and we would have hooked up last night but she was busy. Her brother plays for the Thrillers and she’s his personal assistant. They have a game tonight and she invited me to go with her, so I am.” Shit, when I say it aloud, it does sound like a date.
“Oh, you are one-hundred percent wrong bro.” Ash tells Cade, and I think one of my brothers has some sense. “It’s not a date. They went to lunch already. This sounds like a second date, if you ask me.” Fucker. They’re all idiots. He and Cade laugh it up at my expense.
I chug back the rest of my beer, much faster than I intended to. “Fuck you guys. I’ve got to go.” The glass smacks against the bar top harder than I mean for it to as I climb up off the barstool and get ready to leave. I’m not pissed—I know they’re having fun messing with me—but I am annoyed because their words have a ring of truth to them. My brothers are still laughing it up and I shoot them the finger as I make my way out of the restaurant, which only serves to make them laugh louder. “It’s not a date,” I mutter under my breath for no one to hear. This is pathetic. Now I’m trying to convince myself.
“Ah, come on Sloan. Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re just giving you a hard time.” Ash still can’t keep the snickers out of his voice when he says it so I don’t even bother to turn around. I hide my smile at their teasing and keep walking until I’m out the door and into the car. I can’t even be mad at them. If given the opportunity to tease my brothers I would have taken it too. Of course, it’s never as much fun when I’m on the receiving end of it.
I pulled Elizabeth’s phone number off the packet yesterday and texted her last night. After exchanging a few texts with her—nothing out of the ordinary—I couldn’t stop thinking about her, remembering when she first came into my office and the time we spent together at the bar after. It was even harder to stop thinking about our kiss in the parking lot. The way her lips molded to mine, the way she ran her fingers through my hair, even her soft moan that escaped when I first pressed my tongue against hers.
Everything.
All day today I still had trouble focusing, my mind constantly drifting back to that moment, which is strange for me. I can’t remember the last time a girl consumed my thoughts the way Elizabeth has. Bridgett maybe, but that was in the beginning of our relationship when it was new and exciting. That’s probably all this is with Elizabeth too. Certainly, no other girl had peaked my interest in the months since the breakup.
Because I couldn’t concentrate well today, I left early, much to the dismay of my secretary and a few of my fellow colleagues. I usually don’t leave early, normally being the first one into the office and the last one to leave. But today was the most unproductive I’ve ever been, and I figured ‘why not?’ It wasn’t doing me any good to stay.
It doesn’t take long to find my way to her place following the directions she texted me. It turns out, she’s not too far from my house. When I pull into the gated neighborhood after checking in at the front gate, I see that the houses aren’t as flashy as I thought they’d be. Baseball players make plenty of money, and most of the ones I know are no
torious for flashing their money whenever they can, buying mansions much bigger than they need and expensive cars to show off their wealth. Seeing her house at the end of the street, I realize this house is smaller, more modest than flashy.
I park in front of the two-story house and climb out of the car. I should have brought flowers or something. I chose not to because I felt it would have made this feel more like a date, and I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. Of course, now I feel like an ass by showing up empty handed.
The chime of the doorbell rings through the house when I push the button, and I’m surprised I don’t wait at the door longer than I do. My mouth goes dry the moment she opens it and my eyes rove across her body. She’s wearing denim shorts. Short denim shorts that show off more of those thighs I’d caught glimpses of in that skirt yesterday, and they’re just as spectacular as I remember. She’s wearing a fitted Thrillers jersey that molds to her every curve, and her sneakers match with the team colors. A Florida Thrillers cap sits snug on her head, her lavender-tinted ponytail hanging out the back.
Sexy. As. Fuck.
“Damn. You look hot.” Yep. File that under sexy shit lawyers say.
She laughs, a slight hint of pink creeping across her face. “Thanks.”
“You about ready to go?”
“Yep, all set.” She grabs an envelope off a table near the door and steps out onto the small porch, the fruity scent of whatever she’s wearing taking over my senses and drawing me to her. After she pulls the front door closed and locks it, she turns around to face me and I can’t fight the urge to touch her any more. I need to kiss this woman again.
Stepping into her and reaching around to the back of her neck, I pull her face up to mine. I stoop down, making sure I clear the bill of her cap, and press my lips to hers. I want to devour her but I keep myself under control. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.
The kiss is short but sweet, full of promises. When we part, I take her hand and walk her down the sidewalk to the car, opening the door for her like the gentleman my mother raised me to be. The whole thing is very date-like, even I can admit that. Oh, fuck it. I’m tired of trying to make this anything other than what it is. Though, if my brothers ask, I’ll deny it till the end.
She climbs in and takes her seat and after I shut the door, I jog around the back of the car to my driver’s side door, opening it and climbing into my seat. She’s already buckled and ready to go when I get the car started.
“Did you have trouble finding my place?” She readjusts her ball cap while she asks me.
I shake my head no. “It was easy. You’re not that far from where I live. Plus, I plugged it into my phone’s GPS to make sure I was heading to the right place. I’m familiar with this area, but I don’t come here often.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’m about twenty minutes away. You should come over some time. I live right on the beach. I think you’d like it.”
She smiles, excitement in her eyes. “Invitation accepted! I have yet to get to the beach since I’ve been here and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Well then, it’s a date.” Fucking hell. Why did I say that?
She smiles again. I wonder if she can see the fear in my eyes at the words I let slip out. She’s watching me, studying me, and for a few seconds I feel like she might not address what I said. But her smile gets wider and she finally answers. “Yes. It’s a date.” I exhale the breath I was holding, relief washing over me that she agreed, which is an odd feeling. I didn’t mean to imply it was a date and I shouldn’t be relieved she accepted my offer. I should be freaking the fuck out. I don’t date, and although I’m happy she’s going to come to my place soon, I should be focusing on my poor choice of words. Only I’m not doing either of those things. I’m decidedly happy to know I have plans with her again after tonight.
The rest of the conversation flows easily. We chat about the weather, places in the city where she hasn’t visited yet—which is almost everywhere since she’s only been in town a few days—and various other things. She turns the radio up when a song she likes comes on, and sings the words loud and proud. She moves to the beat of the music, bouncing around in the car. I laugh and shake my head at her antics, stealing sideways glances at her as I drive down the road. She flails her hand near my face, and I don’t hesitate to snatch it out of mid-air, slipping my fingers through hers and resting them on her thigh. She settles back down in her seat, leaning her head back against the headrest, catching her breath. When she turns toward me and smiles, my smile back is automatic but genuine. She’s carefree, playful, and fun.
The trip to the ballpark doesn’t take long, navigating around it to find our parking and entrance almost taking longer than the actual drive. The air is warm and humid—a typical Florida afternoon—but the breeze blowing through the park helps keep us refreshed.
I love baseball. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to go to a game. I’ve forgotten how fun a trip to the ballpark can be. Bridgett had no interest in sports at all, baseball being the most intolerable according to her because of the length of time the games took. I always loved it and would often go with my brothers whenever I could get away from the office, which sadly, wasn’t as often as I’d like. The sights, the smells, the excitement all take over my senses as I stand looking out over the park. Without a doubt, I’m going to have to come more often.
It’s easy to find our seats along the first base line near the dugout. The players are all out on the field, finishing batting practice and pre-game warmups, when we finally make it to our seats. Kids line the barriers between the seats and the fields, desperately trying to get a player’s attention for autographs, and a few of them oblige. Several of the players I’ve already had meetings with make their way over to where Elizabeth and I are sitting and say hi. I look toward the infield, watching the players field ground balls to warm up. I double checked before I left the office to make sure I knew which player was her brother. It’s easy to pick him out since his jersey number, seventeen, matches the one on the back of Elizabeth’s. He’s tall and muscular, with the same sandy blond hair she has, only a few shades darker and minus the lavender hue. I can see the smile crossing his face when he sees his sister and after he finishes his warm-ups he makes his way over to see her.
“Hey, I’d hug you but I’m already sweaty.” He laughs when she cringes, scowling her face up in her best look of disgust and extends her hand, the two of them bumping knuckles.
“Thank you for not,” she laughs. She glances over at me and then back to her brother. “Carson, this is Sloan Wesley. Sloan, this is my elusive brother Carson Vaughn.”
“Hey man,” he reaches out, shaking my hand. “Good to finally meet you. Sorry about not making it to your office yesterday. Team meeting ran long.”
“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I would’ve come looking for you eventually.” I laugh, and he does the same.
“Listen, I need to get back.” He turns his attention back to his sister. “I’ll be back late tonight. Don’t wait up.”
“Pffft. I wasn’t going to.” They bump their knuckles again, him shaking his head, and he jogs off with a smile on his face, I’m guessing it’s from his sister’s smart-ass remark. It’s obvious to anyone looking that they have a great relationship.
“Oh, that reminds me, did you have time to look over Carson’s paperwork I brought in yesterday?” She slinks back down into her seat, her legs crossing, and I’m momentarily frozen in my spot. Her shorts, which were much too short to begin with, ride even higher on her thighs. Seriously, the legs on this girl could stop traffic. I clear my throat and sit in my seat next to her. Of course, the seats are plastered together to maximize space so the bare part of my leg rubs against the bare part of hers. Her silky, smooth skin is distracting, to say the least.
“Honestly, no. I found myself distracted today and I didn’t get much work done.” I trace my fingertips across her smooth skin. “I’ll probably look at it tomor
row. Your brother seems nice, not like some of the other inflated egos I have the pleasure of working for. I think we’re going to get along well.”
She looks out towards the field and the dugout where her brother and the other players are getting set to take the field. “I hope so.” She lets out a sigh.
I know that kind of sigh. Bridgett used to do that when we were together. It’s right up there with the whole ‘I’m fine’ thing women do. I learned that shit the hard way. Here’s a hint. She’s never fine. “What’s wrong?”
She sighs again and turns to face me. “Okay, but please don’t take this the wrong way. I didn’t want to have this conversation yet and I don’t want to ruin tonight.”
Well, shit, this doesn’t sound good.
She lowers her voice so the people milling around the aisles and seats around us can’t hear. “You know if I didn’t have those plans for yesterday then I would have gone home with you, right?” I can’t help but smile, but I don’t interrupt her. “I tend to go after what I want and get lost in the moment. I forget to tell guys that I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m only looking for fun right now. Well, I told Carson about us going out to lunch yesterday and me asking you to the game with me today. He’s worried you’ll get the wrong idea about what this is for me. He doesn’t want things to get weird between the two of you.”
I release a sigh of my own, and a chuckle escapes with it.
“What’s so funny?” She levels me with a puzzled look.
“I was dreading having this same conversation with you too. I guess I didn’t need to be. We’re on the same page. Elizabeth, I’m not looking for a relationship right now either. I got out of one recently and it didn’t end well. I don’t plan to get involved in that shit again anytime soon, if ever. Which means,” I run my finger down her exposed thigh again and look back up at her, “if you’re only looking for lots of spectacular orgasms with a new friend, then I’m your guy.”
Sloan Page 4