“Yeah. Of course, it did. It was by design.”
Anger pulses through me. “He used the word dreadful. It must have been dreadful to have to bring Bellamy as your date. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him I wasn’t here alone or with you as my date. Even though you are. But you know what I mean.”
“Either way, fuck him! I’m a great date.”
I smile through my annoyance. “He also told me not to worry. He told people our break-up was mutual and not that he had to let me down easy.”
Bellamy balks. “It was mutual.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. I was there.”
“That little twerp.”
I turn away from her and look in the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me. In my eyes, I see the truth. Sebastian didn’t get to me tonight. I did.
I’ve known for a while now that I needed a break. Ever since Christopher ghosted me because work always came first, I’ve learned that something had to change. I’ve just refused to give it too much thought—probably because I didn’t want to be here, standing in front of my reflection and knowing I have no one to blame for this mess of a love life other than me.
They say doing the same things while expecting a different result is ridiculous. That’s what I’ve been doing. Dating different packages of the same contents over and over again. And somehow, I expect it to work.
I know better. I’m not a stupid person.
Theoretically, at least. The past doesn’t speak well for me in this case.
Seeing Sebastian here tonight was fine. But having him try to rattle me on purpose and not have a moment to say anything back makes me disappointed in myself—almost as disappointed as I am that I dated him to start with.
No more. No more Sebastians for me. Period.
“You’re a raccoon,” Bellamy says out of nowhere. “A beautiful, thoughtful, slightly naïve but generally intuitive little raccoon.”
“What?” My fingers go to the area beneath my eyes. “I paid a lot for this mascara. If it’s getting all over my face, I’m taking it back for a refund. I’m sick of overpriced cosmetics that don’t work.”
I swipe roughly and pull my fingertips back. They’re clean.
“I didn’t mean that literally,” she says, still chuckling. “What I meant was that there are millions of men out there—scuba divers and astronauts and bankers. And you’re this sweet little raccoon digging around the dugout dumpster for its next meal.”
She holds her hands out like claws and paws at me.
I swat them away. “I am not.”
She raises a brow and takes a seat on the ivy-colored couch. I sit next to her.
“Yes, you are,” she insists. “And you know what else? You deserve to pick out of all the dumpsters. Not just the one full of jockstraps and helmets.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she teases, bumping me in the shoulder. “So you tell your mama the next time she tries to hook you up with some overbearing jersey that you are not interested.”
“What you’re saying is that this is my mom’s fault, right? I can blame everything on her.”
“You can, and you should. She puts so much pressure on you to be attached to a guy—any guy—that she’s definitely to blame for at least a part of this.” She rolls her eyes. “The next time she starts in with her shit, tell her no. Stand your ground. No more setting you up on dates with guys she meets around your stepdad’s baseball team or—surprise! So-and-so’s prodigy is visiting from Chicago, so could you possibly show him around? Wink, wink. Oh!” She waggles her finger in my face. “Remember the time she volunteered you to tutor that newly single basketball player’s kid?”
My jaw hangs open. “I forgot about that. I’m not even good at math. That poor kid sat with me for an hour a day for a month and still failed sixth-grade pre-algebra.”
“See? No more. We’ve identified your problem—athletes. Specifically ones your mother likes.”
I can’t argue with Bellamy. And she knows it.
“Noted,” I say, shrugging helplessly. “I stand corrected. I’m not swearing off all men, just my type of men.”
“If that’s how you want to look at it. Just don’t get pushed into the … cock pen?”
“Bullpen,” I correct her, laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Bells.”
She grins. “I’m not nearly as pretty as my friend.”
“If Sebastian looks at me with pity again tonight, I’m about to be petty.”
“And that’s why I love you.”
She hooks her arm through mine and leads me to the door.
The patrons who came to Paddy’s for a burger or bratwurst have all but disappeared. In their place is a younger and livelier night crowd. The restaurant’s instrumental tunes switched to a slightly louder, punchier beat. I find my body moving to the bass as we make our way to the room hosting our friend’s party.
I consider the ramifications of my self-imposed no-athletes rule when I nearly slam into the back of Bellamy.
“Check out that man in the suit to the north,” she says, stopping dead in her tracks.
Instead of looking toward the door, which would be north, I look at the area where her gaze is situated. A tall, dark, and handsome man in a tailored suit stands by a plant still covered in clear Christmas lights.
I sigh. “Bells, that’s south.”
“Whatever. The point isn’t the direction but the man.”
“And what about him?”
She turns and faces me. “Imagine having to turn that guy down because you’re on a sabbatical from men in general. That’s why you don’t do things like that. You keep your options open. Always.”
“I …”
My attention is redirected when Sebastian steps into my line of sight. His smirk is deep and wide. He waves at me, and all I can do is wave back.
“Don’t wave at him,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth.
I wait for Sebastian to turn around before I speak. “What am I supposed to do? Not wave and look like I care?”
“Good point.” She fires a glare to his backside. “I hate how smug he is.”
“I hate a lot of things about him.”
She rips her eyes out of his back and flips them to me. “He’s gonna try to screw with you.”
“I know.”
I feel it in my bones. I also know how Sebastian operates, so it’s a total no-brainer.
Unlucky for him, I know his Achilles’ heel. Lucky for me, I have no feelings for him other than disdain, and if he tries to put me in a precarious position tonight, I’ll have to repay him.
Somehow.
“You good?” Bellamy asks, her attention redirected to the man in the suit. “Because, if so …”
“I’m good. I’m great. Super. Waiting on my scuba diver,” I joke.
She looks at me like I’m crazy, like she doesn’t remember her scuba diver suggestion.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “You do you, boo, and I’m going to go do me—or the suit, rather, if things work out like they’re playing out in my head,” she says with a wicked grin on her face.
The man looks up over a glass of amber-colored liquid and gives Bellamy a sweet smile. His eyes scream kindness and a naivete that will get him in big trouble.
“You’re going to eat him up and spit him out,” I tell her.
“I always spit them out.” She tosses me a wink. “Swallowing is gross and reserved for the men who deserve it. That has yet to be proven.”
I shake my head as she sashays across the restaurant like she owns the damn place.
Suddenly, the fact I’m alone in the middle of the restaurant becomes readily apparent. And knowing that Sebastian is probably just waiting to pounce on that little bit of information makes me want to scream.
“I need a drink,” I groan, fluttering my lashes open and letting them fall on the opposite side of the restaurant.
Large, dark beams crisscross the ceiling and play a distinct contras
t to the pale lavender walls. Bronze lighting fixtures and hazy yellow lights create a warm ambiance that speaks to my soul.
The entire front of the building is composed of windows that showcase the beautiful hotel across the cobblestone street. A bar tucked away to the right of the door.
I weave my way through the tables with much less grace than Bellamy. I’m about halfway across when the hair on the back of my neck stands up. If I were in an alley, I might think it was a predator ready to kill me. Here, I know it’s just Sebastian.
And I, being the lady I am, cannot punch him in the throat.
“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” I mutter.
My steps speed up, and I make it to the bar just as I feel his energy behind me. I glance over my shoulder and spot him, with his arm around the gorgeous redhead, heading my way.
I reach for the chair in front of me. Instead of finding leather, my fingers brush against something else. Something warmer. Something smoother and rougher all at the same time.
My heart jumps in my chest at the same moment my head snaps to the side.
Oh. Shit.
The most beautiful set of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen traps my gaze. The warmth of the chocolate brown is cooled by the spring green embedded in the orbs. Gold flecks twinkle as the man slowly withdraws his palm away from mine.
I open my mouth, but I’ve somehow forgotten how to speak.
“Hey,” he says, his Southern drawl rippling across my ears. “You can have it.”
I shake my head to try to jolt myself out of the haze I’m in. “I … I can have what?”
His full, pouty lips split into a sexy smirk. “I meant the chair, but if something else is on your mind, just let me know.”
My heart flutters in my chest as a wave of heat courses through my body from head to toe.
A couple of days’ scruff peppers a sharp, chiseled jaw. His skin is sun-kissed and imperfect, and there’s the slightest mole beneath his left eye that gives a bit of softness to his appearance. His body is long, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a thick chest.
It’s one heck of a picture.
Slowly, oh, so slowly, the fog in my brain lifts.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
Sebastian’s gaze pummels me from the side. It’s as if it’s intentional—his ego cannot stand the fact another man is paying me attention.
If that’s the case …
A crazy idea pops into my brain. The longer I watch this man peer at me from under his thick lashes, the more it seems possible.
Crazy? Yes. But definitely possible.
“Want to do me a favor instead?” I ask before I can talk myself out of it.
My chest rises and falls in quick succession as he and I ponder my question. He narrows his eyes as he undoubtedly considers why a woman he just met might need his help.
His thick brows tug together. “That depends on what it is.”
Blood pours through my ears as I realize I’m potentially playing with fire.
But what’s the alternative? Sebastian gets to come over here and play poor Larissa?
Not an option.
“Are you going to ask or not?” he asks
I look up and down his long, muscled body.
Too bad he’s not an option.
Before I can overthink it, the hottie in front of me slays me with a playful quirk of his brow.
Screw it.
I take in a quick lungful of air. “I’m going to need an answer to two questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Quickly.”
He grins. “I can’t answer them if you don’t ask them, beautiful.”
I steady myself against the term of endearment and stay focused.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask.
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I like where this is going.”
“That’s not an answer, and we’re running out of time.”
“No,” he says hurriedly. “Hard no. Definitely not. No girlfriend.”
“Second question …” I take another deep breath and go in for the kill. “Will you be my fake boyfriend for five minutes?”
His grin knocks the breath I’m holding right out of me. “When do we start?”
Three
Hollis
The blond-haired beauty who appeared out of thin air bends subtly toward me. And then, as if she’s as surprised as I am by her proposal, she grins.
“We start now,” she says.
There’s an inherent playfulness to her tone, a definite levity in her words that appeals to me. But it’s the slight edge hidden beneath the sweet lilt of her voice that has me curious.
And curiosity killed the cat.
I nibble on my lip as I study her.
She has straight hair the color of corn silk in the summer in Indiana. Her eyes are the greenest green, just like the turf on a football field before a game. A constellation of freckles are sprinkled across her nose that turns up slightly at the end, completing a compelling and sexy as hell picture in front of me.
This girl is no vixen. There’s too much innocence about her for that. But she’s not naïve either. She assesses me too carefully for that to be true.
“How exactly do we play this?” I ask, rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “Any rules I should know?”
She glances over her shoulder but quickly turns back to me. “Could you just … I don’t know, pretend you’re really into me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great.” She licks her lips as her gaze drops to my lips. “That’s it. Just act like you like me, I guess.”
Is she for fucking real?
As the question slips through my mind, she looks over her shoulder again. My eyes follow hers and land on a complete douchebag coming our way.
Suddenly, this is a route I understand.
Douchebag’s hand wraps around another woman’s waist. Her eyes dart between my new girlfriend and Douchebag.
My insides twist.
I have no idea who this guy is, but I don’t like him. Not just because he’s dressed like a tool or from the way he blatantly ignores me. Rude, sure, but I don’t care. What’s he to me? Not shit on my shoe.
You can always tell a guy’s true nature by the women around him. By all accounts, this one is a dick.
I walk around the chair separating me from my new girlfriend.
“Want me to knock him out?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “What? No! Why would you do that?”
“I haven’t been in a fight for a long time, and he looks like he could use a good ass-whippin’.”
Her jaw drops. “I don’t … No. We’re not …” Her face flushes, and she does everything in her power to remain unaffected by me. “No punching. Okay?”
“The thought of that turned you on a little, didn’t it?”
The color in her cheeks deepen. She squirms, her whole body moving like it can’t handle the energy contained in her tight little body.
“It did,” I tease. “Huh. Good to know.”
Her gorgeous lips part. Before she can say anything, Douchebag, his girl, and about five-hundred bottles of men’s cologne join us.
He looks at my new girlfriend as though I don’t exist.
"I wanted to check on you before I left,” he says. “It felt like the right thing to do, considering your situation.”
Sure, it did, asshole.
My girl’s eyes narrow so subtly that I’m not sure if anyone notices it but me. “Hello, Sebastian.”
“We were just talking about you,” I say, moving to stand directly behind my co-conspirator. I place both hands around her, lacing my fingers at her stomach and tugging her into me.
My blood heats as I invade her personal space. She smells like flowers and the ocean—a sweet, airy scent that feels like a cold drink of water on a hot day. The gray fabric wrapped around the deep curves of her body is soft against my skin.
She looks up at me and smiles. It’s
not the smile she used with Sebastian and not the one she flashed at me earlier. This one is simultaneously more shy and more mischievous. It’s a juxtaposition that lights my libido on fire.
Game on.
“I can’t wait to take this dress off you later,” I whisper loud enough for Sebastian to hear.
Her jaw hangs open as a giggle of disbelief escapes from it.
“Don’t act all innocent,” I tease her. “I have the texts you sent me earlier, you dirty girl.”
She twists in my arms and slaps at my chest. I clasp her wrist and hold it to my body. Her breath stalls in her chest as I lean down. I smile as my lips near her skin. Her body relaxes into mine as I grin.
A soft breath whispers into the air as I grow closer … and kiss her on the forehead.
She blows out the rest in a gush. Her eyes narrow as she looks up at me—partially amused and partially annoyed.
I grin. “Later, beautiful.”
She exhales every drop of oxygen in her body as she tries to keep the irritation out of her chuckle.
“I’d like you to meet Catherine,” Sebastian says in a voice a couple of octaves louder than necessary. “Catharine, this is Larissa.”
Larissa. Noted.
Sebastian clenches his fingertips into the poor girl’s side, closing the two millimeters between them. He then turns so he’s almost standing sideways to me.
I didn’t have Sebastian painted to have a lot of street sense. The little black sweater vest over an argyle sweater and a complexion that screams fancy skin creams gave that away. Still, I’m surprised a guy like this doesn’t even have the sense not to turn his back on a guy like me—a guy who could break his jaw with the flick of my wrist. Not to mention, he’s clearly trying to piss all over my girl.
Have I known her for longer than three minutes? No. But that’s not the point.
Catherine grins sheepishly. “It’s nice to meet you, Larissa. Your dress is so cute.”
Larissa smiles at Catherine, relief sprinkled over her features. “Thank you. I like yours too. Did you get it at Halcyon?”
“I did. I love that store.”
“Me too,” Larissa says. “I almost bought that exact outfit a few weeks ago but wasn’t sure I could pull it off.”
The Relationship Pact: Kings of Football Page 2