“Dakota.” She nudged me with her knee. “I love parties and sushi and dancing.”
“Nice to meet you, Dakota. I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.” I didn’t like either one, at all really, but the song references seemed like a perfect fit, more so than anything truthful I could tell her. I didn’t think she’d enjoy hearing that working out, calling offensive plays, and braiding my daughter’s hair were some of my favorite things.
I really liked having sex too, but again, that had been shoved way down on the priority list, unfortunately. A new job, a new city, my girls. Those took precedent. If I could have handpicked a woman to run into me on the elevator from a lineup of women, I guarantee I would have chosen Dakota. She was tall, gorgeous, fit, with those full lips that were giving me all kinds of dirty thoughts.
The feeling didn’t seem to be mutual. She tilted her head and said, “I don’t like getting caught in the rain.”
I realized she had not gotten the song reference. At all. Which made me old. Too old for her. It was almost a relief. My thoughts were running in directions they had no business going. Time to find her a cab and return to my originally scheduled boring night. Which sounded like hell.
Yep. I was a hater.
* * *
“Too many puddles in New York. Cars splash you,” I told Brandon, my incredibly good-looking rescuer. “Plus I have very fine hair, so it just flattens.” I gestured to my head, to indicate my straight hair.
“I get that. But do you like making love at midnight on the dunes of the cape? Are you into health food or champagne?”
“What?” I eyed him. I felt like there was a joke I was missing, but that happens to me a lot. I get it like five minutes later when the moment has passed for everyone else. “I mean, who wouldn’t like some sexiness at midnight? Unless you have to get up early.”
Brandon smiled. The corner of his mouth just slid up, like he was trying not to laugh. Definitely I was missing something. Whatever. I had learned a long time ago to not worry about it when a joke went over my head.
“Having to get up early wouldn’t stop me,” he said.
Oh, really? I couldn’t decide if he was flirting with me or making fun of me. I decided it was both, which was fine with me. A little harmless flirtation was a mood enhancer. I shivered and held his jacket closed, trying to get warm. “It’s freezing out here.” I didn’t really mind though. I had escaped Dante and that whole surprise wedding bullshit and there is nothing prettier than Manhattan at Christmas.
We were riding down Fifth Avenue and there were holiday lights up everywhere, twinkling with the backdrop of the trees on one side, high rises on the other. The air was crisp but the vibe was magical. “I can’t believe I’m riding in a carriage. It’s beautiful. I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either.” He reached his arm behind my back. “Here, lean against me for warmth until this guy pulls over. Then we can go grab a coffee.”
I didn’t hesitate to obey his suggestion. He was a solid wall of muscle. He had serious body heat potential. His grip as he pulled me into his dress shirt was firm but not aggressive. He smelled like expensive cologne and confidence.
He was probably a decade older than me if I had to guess and he had big feet. I was staring down at his shoes, wondering if that meant what I thought it did. Not that I should even be thinking about his cock, in any way, but I was curious. I couldn’t help it. I’m a curious person. Leap, then look. That’s me.
Except when it comes to getting married, apparently.
Brandon gave off a little bit of a grumpy vibe. The ultimate gentleman, but just a tad grumpy. Hated parties. Pfft. Seriously, that was not normal.
But he was really hot, and that lack of a smile only made him hotter. He kind of smoldered, and that was really sexy. He had caramel colored hair, cut short, and deep, dark brown eyes.
“I’d love some coffee,” I said, because why wouldn’t I want warm bean juice and the company of this tasty man for another twenty minutes? It was taking the sting off of Dante’s nasty texts. “Look at how beautiful the city looks from this perspective. It’s weird. Sometimes we forget to look around us.”
“Yeah. We do.” Brandon wasn’t looking at holiday lights. He was looking at me.
Lady bits alert. It would be a lie to say I was cold everywhere. Certain parts of me were suddenly very, very warm. His gaze was admiring, intense. I had his full attention and that was pretty damn hot. It had been a long time since I’d seen a man look at me like that.
Maybe never. Because I had mostly dated boys, not men. First, because I’d been young myself, then secondly, because I was in a young industry. Dante was twenty-three. My boyfriend before him had been twenty, an enigmatic rapper who had to be the smartest guy I’d ever met but also the most random.
Brandon was a grown ass man looking at me like he thought I was fascinating. Worth listening to. It warmed me up more than his arm around me did. “Have you ever been ice skating at Rockefeller Center?” I asked him, impulsively. “I’ve always wanted to do that but I never had and I’ve lived here ten years.”
“I have not.”
“Let’s go now,” I said. That would definitely take my mind off of Dante’s texts.
“Now?” he asked, frowning at me. “You’re wearing an evening gown and don’t have a coat.”
“I can skate in the gown,” I said, waving off his concerns with my hand, overcome by the urge to turn this night around and make it a positive memory, not a freaked out one. “I’m a dancer. I have a strong core. I’ve been in music videos doing weirder stuff than skating in a dress. But I could use a hat.” My ears were frozen solid already.
His eyebrows rose. “You’re serious? You would go ice skating in a dress that reaches the floor? With a slit that goes practically to your navel?”
So he’d noticed the slit. I wasn’t mad about that. “Yes, I would.”
Brandon suddenly seemed to register the rest of what I’d said beyond my willingness to skate in formal wear. “So you’re a dancer. I can believe that. You definitely look like a dancer.”
“Yes, I am. Dancing is my passion.” Lately I’d been concerned that I was aging out of my career. Which was ridiculous because I was only twenty-seven, but there were eighteen-year-old girls arriving in New York every day hoping to replace me and eventually they would. Then what? I had no idea.
“It’s good to be passionate about your career. So… what weird things have you done in videos?” Brandon asked, looking curious.
I wasn’t sure what he was envisioning, but I suspected it was dirty, given how his eyes had darkened. Amused, I told him, “Whatever you’re thinking, I can guarantee it’s not that.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
The tone of his voice made me shiver. His words felt like both a challenge and an intimate stroke all at once. “Care to share?” I asked.
For a second, I thought he would comply, but then he shook his head. “Probably not a good idea.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant that to be an innuendo or not. He was a very hard man to read. Which, because I like to make things difficult apparently, made him even more intriguing to me. I was actually disappointed he didn’t share his potentially dirty thoughts.
He tapped the driver’s shoulder. “We can’t have you drop us off where you picked us up. Just pull over anywhere in the next two blocks.”
The driver nodded. “Sure thing.”
“I don’t know this neighborhood well but I’m sure we can find some coffee,” he said.
“Where do you live?” I asked. I tried to guess, but it was hard to tell. He was wearing an expensive tux and watch, but he didn’t look entirely comfortable in them. He was ruggedly handsome more so than a pretty boy. I pictured him in a huge house in New Jersey.
“Upper West Side. I just moved to New York, actually.”
Interesting. A Manhattan man. But new to the city. He definitely wasn’t southern because there was no accen
t. But beyond that, I wasn’t sure where he might be from pre-move. “Well, then, welcome to New York.”
He winced. “Please don’t start singing Taylor Swift.”
I laughed. “You’re safe with me.”
The carriage pulled over. “Here you go, folks.”
Brandon jumped down with an easy grace for a big guy. As he held his hand out for me, it occurred to me for the first time he must have been on his way to my wedding. Unless there was another party on the same floor. My name hadn’t seemed to mean anything to him though, and his name didn’t ring any bells with me. He was also a lot older than Dante. It had to be a coincidence. There must have been another event on the same floor.
Not that it mattered. This was just coffee and an escape hatch for us both.
I took his hand and climbed down, using my free hand to grip his jacket over my shoulders. Despite the fact that my nose and toes were entirely frozen, this night could be going a lot worse.
“Let's grab a cab and go to Rockefeller Center,” I said. Hell, if Brandon didn’t want to go, I’d go by myself. I was overcome by the urge to see the giant Christmas tree, with or without ice skating or companionship. “Unless you need to get to the party, in which case, I totally understand. I do love a good party.” I gave him a smile.
Brandon had his hands in his pockets, which only caused his shirt to pull tighter against his chest and arms, revealing a muscular and fit body. He looked to the left, like he was visualizing the ballroom with the guests mingling among the silent waiters passing out nibbles and champagne flutes.
He turned back to me. “Not one person is going to care if I’m there or not. So skating it is.”
I have this thing I do that I’m really good at where I see a hot man, hear something that indicates to me some kind of vulnerability, and I want to hug him and make it all better. I’d done it with EJ, the rapper, who had lost his mother at a young age, and Dante, who I’d thought was unfairly treated in the media (I was wrong, obviously), and here I was doing it now. Brandon thought it didn’t matter if he showed at the party or not, and how this specimen of hotness thought that was beyond me, and yep, I wanted to hug him. I wanted to comfort and appreciate him and make him feel better.
It’s a problem.
“Perfect,” I said. Because why not bounce from one mistake to potentially another? But it was just ice skating and you only live once.
Brandon raised his hand for a cab. “But fair warning. I grew up in Minnesota playing hockey. I’m going to dust you.”
That made me grin. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter Three
Opening the cab door for Dakota, I wondered what the hell I thought I was doing. My absence at the party might not be noticed immediately, but it would be and there would be questions. I was supposed to be schmoozing the organization, not a random strange woman I’d met on the elevator.
But the last eighteen months had been a giant bag of dicks with my divorce and fighting for custody of my girls. It had been draining and I was fucking emotionally exhausted. There was nothing weighty about going ice skating with a stranger. No expectations, no image to preserve, no judgment of my ex, no worrying about my kids. Just fun.
It was Christmas, after all. The magic of the holidays.
“I wouldn’t have guessed Minnesota,” Dakota said as we got in the cab and the driver took off. “You don’t have the accent.”
“I moved to Texas at fifteen, then went to California for college. Then I spent a few years in Seattle. I had to get rid of all traces of accents or I would sound like who knows what. Using y’all and dontcha in the same sentence would be a mess.”
She laughed. “I guess so. Is that why you don’t seem cold? You should be freezing by now.”
“I run hot.” I did. I wasn’t trying to flirt. I wasn’t even sure I knew how at this point in my life, my game was so rusty.
Dakota raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t otherwise react to my comment.
“I’m excited to see the big tree,” she said. “It’s been a few years since I’ve made it to midtown this time of year. Life is too busy and I spend half my life on the train going between shoots and auditions. Stopping to see a tree seemed like way too much work.”
“Life does that to you. Where do you live?”
“Harlem.”
As far as the city went, that wasn’t all that far away from my apartment. Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. Even if I were interested in a relationship, which I wasn’t, Dakota was way too young. I needed a woman my own age, who had a regular schedule, and who liked kids. Who wasn’t in it just for my bank account. Who didn’t mind that I was out of town just about every other weekend from August to January, and who missed major holidays because of coaching. A woman who didn’t mind an angry ex-wife and my shitty attitude about parties.
Which was why I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I needed a nanny and a housekeeper more than a girlfriend. I wasn’t exactly available. That was an annoying thought. All the more reason to just live in the moment.
“We’re here,” I said. Just roll with it. Enjoy an hour or two with a woman who clearly embraced life fully.
That was confirmed when we stepped out of the cab and saw the giant tree lit up.
Dakota threw her hands up over her head. “Woo hoo! Yes! That is so awesome. It’s fantasy New York City.”
It was. I saw it through her eyes and I had to admit, it was beautiful. Crisp winter air, twinkling lights, the buzz of people. The wonder of a massive evergreen.
My jacket slid off her shoulders from her enthusiasm and I grabbed it before it hit the ground. “It is beautiful.” The tree. Her. “There’s a clothing store right there. Let’s grab you a coat.”
I tried to put my coat back over her shoulders but she brushed it off and took off running with a little shriek, rubbing her arms. For a second I stood there, caught totally off guard, but then I realized she was heading straight into the clothing store. She already had the door open so I shoved my arms back into my jacket and followed her. When I stepped into the store she was picking through a rack of sweaters.
“I’m so cold,” she said, laughing, jumping up and down a little. “I can’t feel my toes. But who needs them, right?” She grinned at me.
The contrast to my ex-wife was so glaring I didn’t even know how to react. My ex had been a complainer. She would never be laughing about being outside without a coat and would blame me for it. “I’m guessing dancers might need their toes. We got here in the nick of time,” I told Dakota.
“Do you know when I was a teenager I wanted to be a Rockette so freaking bad?” She held up a fuzzy sweater, then put it back on the rack.
I didn’t know that and had no way of knowing that, but it seemed to fit her personality. “Did you audition?” I asked.
“No. I’m too tall. The dancers used to have to all be the same exact height. I surpassed that point at fourteen.” She eyed me. “Six foot four.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s your height. It’s my superpower. I can guess anyone’s height.”
“I don’t think that’s a superpower. But you’re right. I’m six foot four.”
“What’s your superpower besides being a hater?”
I meant to laugh, but it sounded more like a grunt. “It remains to be seen.” I brushed past her and picked a coat off the rack. It was nylon and went down to the knees. It had a fur-lined hood. “This is what you need.”
“Maybe that’s your superpower,” she said, accepting the coat from me. “Being there when people need you.”
She said it casually but with a smile. The words hit me in the gut. She had no way of knowing that what I wanted more than anything was to be the guy who was there for the people in his life. My girls, my players, my friends and family. It mattered to me to be a standup guy, loyal, and honest.
But lately everything had made me feel like I was failing.
Damn. Dakota was exactly what I had needed tonight.
“I try,” I told her. She had slipped into the coat and I flipped the hood up over her head. The dark faux fur trim outlined her beautiful face, her blond hair pushing forward. It felt like the perfect frame, making her sensual lips jump out at me. I really fucking wanted to kiss her.
“Thanks for trying,” she said, voice a little husky. More serious than when she’d been teasing me in the carriage.
“Can I help you with anything?” a high voice demanded in a perky and aggressive manner.
Dakota turned, breaking the moment. There was a salesgirl at what felt like mere inches from us. Jesus. Where had she come from? But to be honest, I was glad she had interrupted us. I didn’t need to be kissing Dakota. Certainly not under the fluorescent lights in a discount clothing store.
“I’m buying this coat,” Dakota told her. “I’m ready to check out. Oh, wait, I need gloves too.” She turned to me and eyed me up and down. “You should buy a winter coat too. Or at least a scarf or something. You were worried about me skating in a gown, but you’re in a tight suit.”
She had a point. I had been bragging about my skating skills but I had never done it in Armani before. Suits were trending more tailored so I was pretty packed into it. But I wasn’t going down that easily. “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about tripping over all that fabric. Buy a pair of socks too, by the way.”
This had gotten complicated. But now we were both clearly determined to see it through.
“Oh, good point.” Dakota grabbed a pair of holiday socks off a rack on her way to the cashier.
They had reindeer on them. Bright green with red reindeer.
I couldn’t help but think about my ex again. She would never wear something so loud, even just for fun. She’d always been afraid of being judged by her invisible audience. Dakota not caring was a breath of fresh Christmas air. In the spirit, I grabbed a red knit hat with a retro-looking Santa on it. Around the band it said, “I do it for the hos.”
Holiday Husband Page 2