by Claire Adams
For the first time in maybe forever, my future stretched wide open and unplanned before me. It was exhilarating, and it was terrifying. I needed to talk to Heather.
She answered on the first ring. “Please tell me that you’re calling because you’ve changed your mind and are on your way to study with me.”
“Uh no, the opposite, actually. I’m freaking out because I suddenly have no plan and that is not my natural state. What exactly does one do if you’re young and free?”
Heather sighed but didn’t mention her disappointment. “I wouldn’t know, Gabbi. I’d start with not worrying about criminal procedure in Florida, as I am the moment, but you’ve always been good at the procedures anyway.” Her voice was tired, but alert.
I wondered how many more empty takeout containers littered her apartment. She’d promised on Monday that she would start remembering to care of herself again, but it didn’t sound like she was making good on that promise.
I tried to be helpful anyway. “Procedure is procedure, Heather. It follows a linear course, with some possible branches that might change the picture a little, but it all comes back together again in the same way. Don’t get intimidated by the branches. Focus on the bigger picture of how it all works together to get to the outcome.”
“You’re only making me more pissed that you’re not studying with me, you know that?” Her voice already sounded clearer, though.
“Yeah, I know. I told you that we could still do our thing. How about I come over to help you make sense of criminal procedure, and you help me make sense of life without it?” I sounded whiny, even to myself. I hated it. Also, I was kind of jealous that she was stuck in criminal procedure. I loved the procedural subjects.
I quickly pushed the thought from my mind. Heather was studying it without me because I’d chosen to follow my own path. Getting sucked in by what was familiar was precisely what I didn’t need.
“Sure thing. Sounds good, I’m sure that I could do that.” She sounded relieved. “Come on over. I’ll make the coffee.”
“Got anything stronger?” I was only half-joking. We hadn’t had much time to party over the last few years, given how serious we both had been about our studies, but I kind of felt like a buzz that wasn’t caused by caffeine.
“I’m sure I have a bottle of scotch in a cupboard somewhere. You’re welcome to it. I might add a drop to my coffee, but I can absolutely not afford to be knocked out for a day by a hangover right now.” She sounded distraught by even the possibility.
“Gotcha. I’m on my way. I’ll pick up Chinese on the way.” As far as I knew, my credit card was still active. No doubt my father would deactivate everything soon to force my hand. Which was exactly why I had to figure out where I was going so fast. I would be out on my ass before the end of the month, otherwise.
“Sure, if you want to. I think I still have some leftovers from last night in the fridge. So if you don’t want to stop, it’s all good.” I seriously doubted that whatever leftovers she had in mind were from the night before. I wasn’t about to chance old chicken. I had too much to figure out.
“I’ll stop. It’s not a problem. I’ll see you in about an hour?” I was already stuffing my wallet into my bag and grabbing a light sweater. Not that I would need it, but Heather’s apartment was near the beach, and I liked to be prepared.
“See you then, and drive safe,” she said as she absentmindedly ended the call.
****
“What the hell,” I muttered to myself as my car shuddered and suddenly veered toward the shoulder. I hit the brakes and pulled over, trying to calm my nerves.
I undid my seat belt and hopped out in the near dark, walking around the car. I’d gotten a tune-up a few months ago, so it couldn’t be anything too serious. At least, I hoped so. Otherwise, I would have to go crawling to my father for help with getting it fixed. I had some money saved up, but not enough for a major vehicle malfunction.
“Fuuuuck,” I groaned when I saw that one tire was almost completely flat. Sure, I could fix it myself, but I had never changed a flat in the dark on the shoulder of the road.
The roadside assist sticker on my windshield caught my eye, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, this was why I had roadside assistance. I settled in the driver’s seat and dialed the number. I answered the security questions and waited to be put through to an operator.
The automated voice told me I would be connected to the next available operator, and the knot in my stomach finally came undone.
The man on the other end of the line finally answered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ralls. It appears that your roadside service has been suspended.”
“Suspended?” It all clicked into place then. My father had made a power play. Suspending my roadside assist service had been a part of it.
I groaned again as headlights pulled in behind me. The last thing I needed was for some creepy guy to pretend to help me while he tried to guilt trip his way into my pants.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid the service was suspended two days ago. I’m sure you could sort it out with the accounts department, but I’m going to have to transfer you.” The disembodied voice informed me.
“Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself.” I ended the call and looked into my side mirror. I kept an eye out for the supposed knight in shining armor to make his appearance. “At least he didn’t dick with my credit cards.” Maybe there was some hope for us after all. Probably not.
The door to the SUV behind me opened and a hulking figure emerged. A vaguely familiar voice called out. “Need any help?”
My breathing hitched as his features came into focus in the side mirror. Short dark hair, chiseled jawline, arrogant swagger.
Oh, hell no.
The very last person I wanted to see appeared at my door.
James Skye. Fucking great.
“No, I’m okay. Just a flat. I got it.”
He leaned into my window like it was the most natural thing on earth. Mesmerizing eyes stared at me, dancing slightly, like he was amused.
“It doesn’t look like you got it. Come on, pop the trunk. It’s just a flat. I’ll have you back on the road in a few minutes, tops.”
Were his eyes blue or green? I couldn’t see in the fading light. Then I kicked myself mentally for even wondering.
“No, really. I can do it myself.” I popped the trunk and heaved myself from the car.
He watched as I pried at the latches holding the spare tire in place. Then, he shook his head and gently pushed me out of the way. His nimble fingers fiddled with the latches.
“I know you can do it by yourself, but I’m offering to do it for you. Let me prove that chivalry isn’t dead.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes if I wasn’t so grateful that I wasn’t by myself in the dark anymore. Even though I would never admit it. “As long as the record shows that I didn’t need your help.”
He smirked. “I figured you’d studied law from the conversation between you and your father the other day. So, rest assured, the record will correctly reflect that I swooped in to save the damsel in distress, despite the fact that she was perfectly capable of saving herself.”
“Good.” I let him get to work. True to his word, he had the tire changed in a few minutes. He fired off random questions while I tried not to stare at the bulging muscles in his arms or the graceful way in which his body moved.
He’d started with, “What’s your spirit animal?” and was up to “Cranberry or pomegranate tea?” by the time he was done. He was completely effortless. Despite myself, I’d found myself answering his questions while ogling his ass as his designer jeans scraped the pavement.
“An eagle and coffee,” I answered as he worked.
“Is coffee a variation of either of those teas?” he asked as he wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Nope, but I’d take coffee over every kind of tea any day of the week,” I said.
He kicked the tire once he was done. “That should be fine, but you should get the oth
er ones checked.”
“Thanks, I will.”
He was standing too close for comfort now. His musky scent invaded my senses, mixed with a cologne that I didn’t recognize, but it smelled manly and divine.
“So, where were you off to?” he asked.
I tried to forget what those lips had felt like on mine only a couple of days ago. They’d had no business there, but since I’d been responsible, I could hardly take it out on him.
I took a breath to calm my pounding my heart. It was a great kiss, sure. But he was a football player. One of my father’s stars, no less. Sure, he was attractive, but that was it. “None of your business.”
“Well actually, I came to your assistance when you were in need, if I’m not mistaken. I happen to have a need of my own.” Seriously? The guy couldn’t be that direct. At least not with Richard Ralls’s daughter.
“Yeah? And what might your need be? A blowjob from the boss’s daughter? If that’s where you saw this going, you should’ve kept driving, buddy.”
A slow smile spread on his lips, and his eyes danced with amusement. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you’re thinking about blowjobs, but I actually meant dinner. This time.”
“Oh, ha. You’re hilarious.” I flushed crimson, despite my best efforts. Maybe I had jumped the gun on the blowjob thing. Still, it wasn’t so absurd to have thought that was what he meant. “I can’t have dinner with you anyway. I have plans.”
He didn’t skip a beat. “Plans that couldn’t come and help you out themselves seem like shitty plans.”
“Wow, you really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“I’m a star, babe. In case you didn’t know. And I’m also not wrong about your plans. My teammate dropped out of dinner, and I have this reservation. Come with me?”
He seemed sincere, but I had no doubt that it was all an act. Again, I’d grown up around football players. “I can’t. My plans didn’t come help me because I never let her know that—”
He cut me off with a huge grin. “Her, huh? I’m totally down with that. Just let me hold the camera?” He pleaded with a goofy grin on his face.
I couldn’t help but smile. And taunt him, of course. “You should’ve said something earlier. Of course you can hold the camera. Imagine all the riveting footage we’ve been missing of Heather studying, and me trying to figure out what to do with my life.”
He looked crestfallen. “No sexy pillow fights, then?”
“None whatsoever,” I assured him.
“In that case, my dinner reservation definitely wins.” His eyes held a mischievous glint that drew me in. “Come with me?”
“I really do have to get to my friend’s place,” I said, but I had a feeling that James Skye wasn’t one to give up that easily.
As it turns out, I was right. “Come on, come to dinner with me. You know that you want to. Besides, you kind of owe me.”
I hated that he was right. Still, I wasn’t letting him get away with cheesy pickup lines without calling him out on it.
True to form, he laughed it off and told me to meet him an hour.
He was trouble. My father would hate it. It was perfect.
Chapter Seven
James
I strode into Blackmore’s, one of Miami’s best new restaurants, wearing my favorite suit and a shit-eating grin. The owner was a friend of a teammate, and she didn’t hide the fact that she was a fan.
“It’s such an honor to host you, Mr. Skye. Please, follow Monty to your private dining room.” I had requested a table with privacy when I’d made the reservation for Ryder and I so that we wouldn’t be mobbed by fans all night long. I hadn’t thought that “a table with a modicum of privacy” would have turned into a private dining room.
Hells yeah. Guess who’s arrived? I silently cheered.
I settled at the table in the private dining room. It was decorated like an intimate library, which I thought Gabrielle might appreciate.
Because you know her so well. I shut up the snide voice in my head good and tight. I actually looked forward to this dinner. From what little I did know about her, she seemed like fun. She was sassy. I liked that.
Richard would not be happy if he ever found out. Especially since he’d specifically warned me to stay away from her. I almost felt bad about it. He’d been really good to me.
Fuck it.
Gabrielle was hot. Like, come in your pants hot. Not that it had ever happened to me, but she was the kind of hot that made you realize that the struggle was real. It wasn’t like I was asking her to marry me behind his back. I was just buying her some food. Besides, he’d always liked me.
“May I bring you anything, Mr. Skye?” a bright-eyed waitress asked. She was obviously a fan but had the good sense to keep it to herself.
“I’m okay for now. My dinner companion should be arriving—”
Gabrielle pushed through the door as if the mention of her had summoned her. She looked fucking beautiful. She’d changed since I’d seen her last, and while I’d thought she’d been sexy in her casual clothes, she was downright devastating dressed up.
Her hair was twisted into an elegant bun at the side of her head, and her delectable body was wrapped in a cocktail dress that matched the color of her navy eyes almost exactly.
My cock twitched in appreciation.
“You eat in private rooms?” She barely managed to veil her condescension.
“No, but the teammate who canceled knows the owner. She thought that he might enjoy it.”
“Okay.” She smiled. It was an easy grin that brightened her eyes in a way that I hadn’t seen in anyone for the longest time. “So, what’s good here? I’m starving.”
Wait, she was actually going to eat in front of me?
Most of my dates ordered food only to take one or two bites and push their food around the plates. Gabrielle, on the other hand, studied the menu like she was so hungry that she actually considered eating it and not only the food it advertised. It fascinated me.
“Are you ready to order?” A server appeared at the table, tapping some sort of electronic pad.
“I am,” Gabrielle confirmed. “How about you?”
I cleared my throat. “Sure, what are you having?”
“The fileto al tegamino for me, please.” She smiled as she handed the menu to the waiter.
She had ordered my favorite dish. I tried not to look incredulous as I repeated her order. “Steak medium rare for me.”
“Of course, Mr. Skye.” She gave a slight bow and left us alone.
The sudden silence in the room was deafening.
Gabrielle studied me with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Then she smirked. “Not creative enough to come up with your own order?”
She was teasing me. It took me a second to recognize it. It had been years since a girl just had innocent banter with me.
Women always wanted something from me, mostly ‘balls deep Skye.’ Gabrielle didn’t even seem to be thinking about it. “I’m plenty creative,” I said. “It just so happens that I love that steak, and they don’t have it at a lot of places.”
“Tell me about it.” She became animated as she outlined the struggle I was all too familiar with. “I mean, is it that difficult to chuck some garlic and white wine and herbs into a pot and drizzle it over a piece of meat. I don’t know why most places just serve the usual crap, and so few restaurants bother with that kind of perfection.”
“I feel your pain.” I curled a hand into a fist and tapped at my heart. “I order it whenever I have the chance. I just hope this chef doesn’t fuck it up. I had one a couple of weeks ago, and it came without garlic. Can you believe that?”
Gabrielle’s jaw dropped in genuine indignation. It was adorable. “Sacrilege! I hope you mentioned that they should change the menu to read steak with white wine and herbs. I mean, come on.”
“I might have made a bit more of a scene than that. I am a spoiled football player, after all.” I teased her. I sens
ed she had an ax to grind with people in my profession, especially after that snark about the blowjob.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t completely hide the smile that formed on her full lips. “Of course you are. Tell me, though. Is there more to you than just that?”
The question surprised me more than I let on. I took a sip of wine as I tried to formulate an answer. I wasn’t used to women being quite this direct. Not when it came me, anyway. Propositioning me, sure. Getting to know me, no way.
“I’d like to think so, though I’m not exactly sure what you mean by ‘just that.’” It was Gabrielle’s turn to be surprised, though she didn’t manage to hide it quite as well as I did.
“I honestly did not expect you to answer like that,” she confessed. “I was actually kind of sure you were going to make some perverted comment about how much more of you there was and if I’d like to see it.”
Again with the directness. I was kind of digging it. I felt sorry for whatever poor schmuck had tried those kind of lines with her. “Seriously?” I asked. “Which players have you been hanging out with? Please tell me so that I can rub their lack of game in their faces.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I, uh, haven’t actually hung out with any of you myself, but I’ve heard the stories.”
“Wait, so you have this whole condescension thing going towards anyone who plays football based on stories you’ve heard?” I cocked a brow as I teased her. “I mean, fine. Some of the guys use lines like that, but it’s not like only football players do it. Or only men.”
I neglected to mention that I’d used those kinds of lines myself, or that they actually worked most of the time. I had no doubt it wouldn’t work on a girl like her, but not all women were like her. I hadn’t actually met one like her before, not that I could remember. And I have a great memory.
She mulled over my words, the flush on her cheeks deepening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess there are lots of men, and women, out there who operate like that.”
“You’re giving up your assumptions that easily?” It was hard to believe. Everything I’d seen from her so far had pointed to a seriously stubborn, headstrong woman.