by KB Winters
“Fine, fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re all alone and feeling frisky.”
“Noted.”
I served up the pizza and took a place at the table. Tien started rattling on about her latest endorsement deal. Some new water infused with vitamins that was marketed as bubble gum flavor, but according to Tien, actually tasted like shit. Regardless, she’d agreed to rep it for a five-figure payout. As she rambled on, I tried my best to pay attention and be the good friend I was. Still, it was impossible to keep my mind focused when Chance kept barging into every other thought. In less than twenty-four hours, I’d be back at work and he would come striding through those doors for our first real day of working together.
God help me.
7
Chance
Lacey wanted me. It was obvious. Everything she did screamed, take me. From the way she avoided my eyes, nibbled at the corner of her lip, and couldn’t stop fidgeting around as we spoke in her office. There was just one problem… she had me so jammed up with arts and crafts bullshit that I barely got a chance to keep pushing her buttons. By the time I’d left Monday afternoon, we’d barely spent more than twenty minutes together.
But I had a feeling today would be different. I jumped out of bed, went through my morning workout routine, and hurried to get to the youth center. I stopped for a couple of coffees on the way but realized that I had no idea what kind of coffee Lacey would like to drink. Or, if she even liked coffee for that matter. So I took a gamble and picked up a couple of lattes.
I pushed through the doors of Harvest House ten minutes before my shift was supposed to start and smiled when I found Lacey alone. She was in her office, hunched over her computer, with a pair of dark-framed glasses on her face. She was even hotter with the glasses. Sexy librarian all the way. Oh, the things I wanted to do to her.
I forced a casual smile and strode across the large open space, ignoring the kids as they gawked at me. I was surprised to find that so many of them knew who I was from watching football games with their families. Football was so often an adult world that I hadn’t fully realized the broad reach of the audience. Sure, there were kids in the stadium every game day, but I’d never paid much attention to my younger fans before. I supposed now would be the time to start. After all, I was going to be surrounded by them for the next five weeks.
“Knock, knock,” I said, rapping my knuckles on the frame of Lacey’s open door.
She jolted in her seat and I smirked at the startled look on her face. “Chance… is it time? Oh, wow.” She took her glasses off and folded them together. “I got a little lost, I guess.”
“Well, then I’m just in time,” I replied, smiling as I entered the office without an invitation. “Coffee train here to save the day. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got vanilla lattes. One has cream and the other almond milk. Ya know in case you’re lactose intolerant or something.”
Lacey blinked slowly as she stared up at me, as though she’d spotted some kind of alien species.
I set the drinks on the edge of her desk and dropped heavily into the chair I’d occupied the day before. “So, I see that according to my schedule, I’m supposed to be on crafts today. More Popsicle stick art, I’m sure. And as riveting as that sounds, I thought that my skills might be better used in the gym. Any chance I can go shoot hoops? Maybe teach the girls some football moves?”
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Not a chance. I have a schedule for a reason. A cup of coffee isn’t going to buy you out of your assignment.”
“For the record, the coffee wasn’t a bribe.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You really think I’m some asshole, don’t you? Like I’m just a self-absorbed athlete that doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything else?”
Lacey cocked her head. “I wouldn’t presume to know who you are, Mr. Beauman. But considering that you’re only here because a judge forced you to be, says a lot about your character. You want to go play around in the gym because that sounds like fun. Helping girls do crafts isn’t fun and requires you to actually, you know, talk to them.”
“It’s not that—”
“I’m not here to babysit you or be your mom, all right? This is my workplace. My job. I run the show. So, if I tell you I need you painting and gluing birdhouses with the girls, then that’s what you need to do.”
Fuck, she was sexy when she was bossy.
Usually, I would have been mad as hell to have someone shooting their mouth off like that, ordering me around, and acting like tough shit. But with Lacey, all it made me was hard as a fuckin’ rock.
“Thank you for the coffee.” She took the one labeled with almond milk and pressed her lips around the rim. My cock strained against my jeans and I was glad I hadn’t worn my athletic shorts. She didn’t need to know how riled up she made me. At least, not in front of everyone. “I’ll come get you started in a few minutes. If you want to go chat with the girls, I’m sure they’d love that. After you left yesterday, it was like twenty questions around here.”
A smile formed on my lips. “Really?”
Lacey nodded a small smile on her face as well. “You have a chance to really do some good here, Chance. I know I told you that yesterday, but after seeing how excited the girls were when they found out you were coming back…” her words trailed off as her eyes drifted to the open doorway behind me. A strange emotion flickered across her face, and for a second I was worried someone was standing behind me.
Then, before I could look, she continued, “The girls… well, all the kids that come here… most of them are really used to people not showing up for them. People come in and do a few hours here and there, but they know not to get too attached because it’s usually a temporary thing. I won’t even get into how many other people in their lives have ignored or abandoned them. So just… be different, Chance. Show them that even rich athletes with attitudes have hearts. Show them that you care.”
Her words caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I pushed up from my seat and headed for the door. “Birdhouses it is,” I said before leaving her office.
“Do you eat a lot of broccoli?”
I twisted to look at the small girl to my right. Aria. She was eleven years old, but small for her age, with large eyes and wild curly hair. “Broccoli?”
She gave an emphatic nod. “My foster mom says that I have to eat all of my broccoli so that I can get big muscles. Like you.”
I laughed. “Aha. Well, that’s excellent advice if you ask me.”
She frowned. Clearly, she’d been hoping I’d tell her ice cream was the secret to my physique.
“What color do you want for the roof?” I asked, checking the paint bottles lined up in the center of the table. There were three other girls at our table, all around the same age, and each of them was working on their own birdhouses. Aria was the slowest of them and was still painting, while the other girls had moved on to gluing in the little perch at the front.
“Green.”
I handed her the paint. “Green it is.”
As Aria squirted some paint onto her tray, I glanced around the room. Lacey was at the computer table a few yards away, speaking softly with one of the older girls. A pile of textbooks sat to the girl’s right and from the look on her face, whatever she was working on, wasn’t going well.
Lacey’s words echoed back to me. All of the girls at the center had gone through some heavy shit in their lives and had ended up at the center because they needed help. If it weren’t for people like Lacey, who’d be there to help with homework, during the school year? Where would the girls go if they couldn’t go to the center all summer? They’d be left at home all by themselves. Possibly getting into trouble. Or worse, put in danger. Most of them came from rough parts of the city, where it wasn’t exactly safe for young kids to be home alone in the afternoon and early evening.
“How long have you been coming here, Aria?”
She’d likely been in foster care her whole life. For a moment, I wanted to ask what happened to her birth mother or parents but stopped short of intruding.
“—but then they got taken away by the police and I had to go to a new foster home. So for a few years I couldn’t come here because they lived too far away. But now, with my new family, I can come again.”
“Taken away by the police?”
She nodded but didn’t offer up any additional details. Instead, she went back to painting, using every ounce of focus to get the last layer of paint exactly right.
As she worked, I glanced around at the other girls at the table. They were shier than Aria and hadn’t spoken much since I took my place beside her. “You girls need anything?”
They all shook their heads.
Right. “I’m gonna go get something to drink from the vending machine. You want anything? Anyone?”
The tallest of the four perked up. “Anything we want?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
A mischievous smile spread over her thin lips. “Root beer.”
“All right. Anything else?”
The other three took her lead and asked for different sodas. I smiled and pushed up from the table to go get them some drinks. Lacey had moved across the room to check in with the other birdhouse builders and straightened as I passed her. “Where are you going?”
“Jeez, warden. Just hitting up the vending machine.”
Lacey frowned and excused herself from the table she’d been tending to. She fell into step beside me, and I smirked as I noted that it took her two quick steps for every one of mine. “Warden? Really, Chance?”
I chuckled. “It was a joke. Damn, pretty girl. What happened to the fun, outgoing girl on the dance floor the other night? Was that all just the alcohol? If so, remind me to throw some Bailey’s in your coffee tomorrow.”
She folded her arms and increased the speed of her steps. “Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
We stopped at the vending machine and I groaned. “This is all juice and shit. Where’s the soda?”
Lacey sighed. “We only offer healthy options for the kids.”
“Yeah, well, juice has just as much sugar as a soda,” I retorted.
Lacey rolled her eyes. “Regardless, the juice is better and a non-profit fills these machines so the kids have access to healthy snacks.”
“All right, well then I’m going out. My table wants root beer and orange soda.”
Lacey grabbed my arm before I could take two full steps for the doors. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out. To get some soda. I told the girls I’d get it for them. There’s a convenience store right down the street. It’ll take me five minutes.”
Lacey scowled at me and snatched her hand away from my arm as though it were on fire. “You can’t, Chance. Then everyone will want some.”
I shrugged. “Okay? Go get their orders and I’ll—”
“No.” She rubbed her fingers to her temples as though she couldn’t believe how difficult I was being. “No, Chance, it’s not how it works. Okay. Just, go back and finish helping them get their houses together and then clean up and you can go.”
I folded my arms. “Earlier, you were telling me about how I should show up and be here. Now, I’m trying to help and do something nice and you’re telling me to back off. What the hell? Please explain it to me, ’cause I don’t get it.”
She didn’t flinch away from my harsh tone. “I also told you I run the show. So, drop it. We don’t do soda and sugary snacks and all that.”
I tossed my hands up but stalked back to my table before I could say something I’d regret.
I heard Lacey following me but I didn’t stop to acknowledge her and twenty minutes later, I clocked out without saying goodbye. I didn’t want to be a dick, but at the same time, there was nothing I could do or say to remove the stick that seemed to have gotten lodged up in her ass since the night she’d spent in my bed.
8
Lacey
“Hey, little ladies, Auntie Tien is here!”
I turned at the sound of Tien’s sing-song voice and rolled my eyes when I saw she was weighted down with two large bags that could only mean one thing—her mom had been baking again and she’d brought enough to feed a small army.
Essentially, the same thing I’d barked at Chance about earlier in the day.
I didn’t even know why I’d gotten so angry at him. He was right. I’d told him to stick around and get involved, and then the second he tried to do something—I’d bit his head off.
“Lace, you want something?” Tien asked, setting down the bags on one of the central tables. My group of girls clustered around her, snatching wrapped baked goods up as fast as she could dole them out. “Oatmeal raisin?”
I nodded. A cookie might help.
They usually did.
Once the kids had their snacks, Tien folded up the bag and came over to sit beside me. We’d originally met at Harvest House. She worked in the office, coordinating events and fundraisers while I’d worked with the kids. She came back to visit once a week or so, usually bearing gifts from her mother’s kitchen. Her mom ran a popular restaurant in the heart of the Asian district, and while she was a kick-ass chef, she also made the most amazing desserts and was always baking something in the back of her kitchen.
Tien was dressed—as usual—in workout attire, probably having come straight from some workout along the waterfront or some other pretty place where she could snap the perfect pics for her social media empire. I took the cookie from her and started peeling the plastic wrap away. “You look pissy. What’s up?” She took a long glance around the room and then added, “Mr. Baller giving you trouble? Where is he?”
“He’s gone. He’s only here for four hours.”
I broke off a large bite of cookie and pressed my eyes shut as the flavors melted against my tongue. “Damn. I seriously don’t know how you stay so skinny. If my mom knew how to bake like this, I’d be the size of a blimp.”
Tien laughed. “Why do you think I spend two hours at the gym? If not for her cooking, I could probably cut that back to half an hour.”
“Oh, the woes of a fit foodie,” I smirked and snagged another bite.
“Seriously.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned back against the table. “So, what do you think? Day two. Ready to jump him yet?”
I gave a hollow laugh. “Hardly. Even if I was, I think I might have taken myself off his radar today. I pulled the bossy bitch routine on his ass.”
Tien laughed. “Oh Lord. I miss all the good stuff!”
I finished off the cookie and let out a long sigh. “I told him he couldn’t go get soda and chips for the girls. We only let them have healthy snacks.”
“Clearly,” Tien added dryly, gesturing at the group of kids happily munching on cookies.
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I wanted to argue with him or something.”
“Probably because you’re trying way too hard not to fuck him,” Tien replied, her tone so matter-of-fact that it made me roar with laughter. “What?” she asked. “It’s a legit theory. You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not interested so you’re finding all these little things to obsess over.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You just gotta relax, baby girl. Have some fun.”
I nodded, but I still wasn’t convinced. Chance Beauman wasn’t boyfriend material; that much was clear from his publicly cataloged dating record. According to the gossip sites and mags, he went through women like they were potato chips during a Friday night movie marathon. E
very sports function, club opening, or local red carpet event, he was there with a different woman on his arm.
And, to top it off, they called him Chance Beau-Monster! The monster of the Midwest.
I wasn’t ashamed to say I’d done some researching since finding out who my mystery one-nighter really was.
Which only made me feel more stupid about falling into his bed. Or jumping. However it had happened.
“I’ll have fun, just not with him. I’m not looking for forever right now, but I at least want someone who can remember my name two weeks from now. I don’t think that’s shooting for the moon or anything.”
Tien laughed. “All right. Fine. Chance’s out. You wanna go clubbing with me again this weekend? We’ll try to find you a less-famous hookup.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pass. I’m on call this weekend anyway.”
Tien nodded and pushed up from her place at the table. “All right, ladies. Time to burn off those cookies. Who’s up for some hoops?”
I laughed and got up from the table. “I should have known a workout was coming up.”
“Name of the game, Lace.”
Later that night, alone in my apartment, my mind was on full renegade mode and refused to stop thinking about Chance. I tried to rationalize my fixation away by telling myself that I just felt guilty about snapping at him. But that didn’t quite explain why I was mostly thinking about the way he looked naked.
And that cock. Damn it was so, so, perfect.
“Ugh!” I growled at my one-track mind and shoved up from my place on the couch. “This is ridiculous.”
I found the remote, switched off the TV, and went to lock the front door. It was nearing ten o’clock and I knew I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I had a feeling that the next four and a half weeks were going to be full of some really long days.
His hard body continued to invade my thoughts as I showered, dressed for bed, and slipped beneath the covers. In the dark, I let the urges well up inside of me, too tired to fight them back. As my eyes fluttered shut, the picture of Chance’s bare chest popped into my mind. Heat flooded my limbs and settled between my thighs as I mentally wandered down the lines and contours of his perfect body. The firm lines of his solid chest tapered down to his flat, sculpted abs that looked like they’d been painted on, but were in fact real, deep groves separating each section. My fingers twitched under the covers, yearning to trace the lines at his hips and follow them all the way down.