The Wingman

by Cathryn Fox

  But instantly, my phone pings, and the word karaoke comes flashing on my screen.

  Rider!

  I glance up, but Tate is too busy talking to notice my excitement. I jump up and he finally stops babbling. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” I shake my phone. “My friend needs me.”

  Tate looks at me like he can’t for the life of him understand why I’d want to leave when he has so many more stories to tell me.

  “Nice to meet you, Tate. The next time I see Rider, I’ll let him know you’re a fan.”

  “Do you think you could get me an autograph?” he asks and I shake my head. The man is far more interested in Rider than me.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He flashes me a big smile, and I spin, so ready to be out of this place.

  I hurry outside, phone in hand, ready to text Rider when I reach the sidewalk. But when I exit the bar, I run smack dab into a brick wall. A brick wall with big warm hands that are wrapping themselves around my waist.

  5

  Rider

  Rider

  I slide my hand around Jules and tug her to me. Her skin is so warm, her frame so tiny, it brings out the protector in me—not that I think she needs my protection. She’s a smart girl who knows how to take care of herself. But everything about her still brings out the defender in me, and while she didn’t seem to have a problem going off with Tate, for some reason, it made me go all caveman inside. Yeah, it’s true, I wanted to punch Tate in the face and toss her over my shoulder like a damn Neanderthal showing possession.

  Dude, you set her up.

  “Looks like we were texting each other at the same time,” I say, putting my mouth to her ear.

  She inches back. “I wasn’t going to hit send. Someone bumped my arm.”

  I inch back to see her pretty face. With her nose scrunched her cute freckles bunch together. “You typed it out, but changed your mind?” I ask.

  “Something like that.”

  I’m not sure what it is I want to hear her say, but ask, “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your date with Dani.”

  “What did you tell her anyway?” I move us away from the door and position our bodies under the shelter of an awning, as rain pounds the sidewalk. “I saw you hold your arms out about this wide…please don’t tell me—”

  “Oh, no,” she exclaims playfully. “Is that why the date went south? You didn’t live up to your reputation.” She wags her eyebrows and points a finger downward.

  I give her a smug grin. “I always live up to my reputation.”

  She plants her hands on her hips, and I glance at her snug jeans. Jesus, she’s sexy in ways she probably doesn’t even know. “Then why did the date go south?”

  “First tell me what you told her.”

  “I told her your…” I cock my head and wait for it, but she surprises me and says, “…ego was this big.” I laugh at that. “Then I told her you could back it up.” She pokes me in the chest. “Now you tell me why it didn’t work out.”

  “She didn’t love art.”

  Jules’ eyes practically bulge out of her head. “You’re messing with me.”

  “Nope, tonight I had planned to visit an art exhibit, and she wasn’t interested. How can I hook up with a girl who doesn’t appreciate art, Jules?”

  “Well, you obviously can’t,” she agrees, and we chuckle. A strand of hair catches in the breeze and slides across her cheek.

  I reach out, gather it in my fingers, and move it to the side. As I do, our eyes lock, and her fast intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed. My God, what I’d do to kiss her. But we’re friends who just set each other up, which means I can’t do that.

  “What about Tate?” I ask, my voice an octave lower. “What happened there?”

  She rolls her eyes and a tortured sound catches in her throat. “My God, he was more interested in you than me.” I chuckle at that. “All he wanted to do was talk about Rider, Kane, some guy named Luke and another named Jonah, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “I sort of zoned out,” she confesses.

  “If a guy has you at his table and doesn’t give you the attention you deserve, then he doesn’t get to have you at his table again,” I say, meaning every word of it. A small smile touches her mouth. “What?”

  “Do you practice these lines?”

  “You think I’m feeding you a line?” I jab my thumb into my chest. “You’re talking about the guy who says whatever comes to his mind, remember?”

  “I remember.” Her pretty brown eyes soften, and her hand touches my cheek. “That was sweet, Rider. Thank you.” She’s about to pull her hand away, but it lingers, and damned if I don’t like the feel of her soft skin against my face. “Wait, what did you say about me?”

  “Ah, it’s not important,” I begin and I’m about to turn when she grabs my arm.

  “Oh, no. Spill,” she demands and gives me the death glare.

  “Fine. I just told him you had a fetish, is all.”

  “A fetish? What kind of fetish?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Rider,” she shrieks, and a few people moving down the sidewalk turn to see what the commotion is all about.

  “I told him you were a dominatrix, and I wasn’t into being tied up, and that’s why we could only ever be friends.”

  “Rider!” I shriek. “You’re horrible.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, and she whacks me.

  “I am not a dominatrix, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not something I’m into.”

  “Ah, so maybe you’d rather be tied up.”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” I arch a brow. “I mean. Never mind, that didn’t come out right.”

  “You want to hit this art exhibit with me or what?” I ask, cutting her some slack.

  She sighs. “I guess I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel important.”

  She taps my head. “Your ego is big enough.”

  “…and I can back it up,” I say and nudge her in to motion.

  She rolls her eyes at me, and she glances up at the sky. “We’re going to get wet.”

  As soon as the words leave her mouth, my thoughts shift, take me in a direction they shouldn’t be going. Jules and I are friends. We’ve established that. Other than Kane’s sisters, and my teammates’ wives—who continue to try to set me up—I’ve never been just friends with a girl before and I really like it. I really like her. If we brought sex in to it, it would ruin what we currently have right?

  But what if it didn’t?

  “My Jeep is right over there,” I say and point.

  She scans the street, her gaze settling on my battleship gray Jeep. “You’re not driving Kane’s car tonight?”

  “No, I had a feeling he’d be leaving with Lindsay.”

  I grab her hand and we dart across the street, the rain pelting our bodies. I hurry around the vehicle and open her door for her.

  “Such a gentleman,” she says.

  “Marion would kill me if I didn’t open the door for you,” I say, and then slam my mouth shut, but as I circle the front of the Jeep, I don’t miss the way Jules’ eyes are on me. I slide into the driver’s seat, start the vehicle and turn on the heat.

  “Who’s Marion?” she asks, and the question isn’t unexpected. I opened the door, after all. All she’s doing is walking through it.

  I check the rearview mirror, and glance over my shoulder. The rain lightens as I pull into traffic. “She’s Kane’s mother,” I say, my voice even and steady.

  “Oh, I see. My mother’s name is Grace. My dad is Jack. He’s a sports fanatic.”

  “And yet you don’t like hockey.”

  “Nope, and he couldn’t make a fan out of any of his five daughters.”

  My gaze flies to hers. “You have four sisters. I mean I know you said there were five kids in your family, but all girls.”
I shake my head. “Your poor father.”

  “Hey, why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?”

  “I just mean, with a son, you only have one dick to worry about. With a daughter, you have hundreds, or more.”

  She stares at me for a moment, and when she finally gets what I’m saying, she laughs out loud. “I never thought of it that way before. Maybe that’s why Dad is going gray early.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  She goes quiet for a moment, and then in a soft voice asks. “Did Marion raise you?”

  “Yeah, sort of,” I say. “She was good to me. So was Arthur, Kane’s dad. They come to all the games.”

  She nods and looks through the rain-soaked windshield. “It’s nice that they were supportive. My parents were, too. Mom stayed at home. I guess she didn’t dare leave five girls alone.” She chuckles and adds, “Dad is an engineer.”

  “How old are your sisters?”

  “We range from eighteen to twenty-six. We’re all close. When I’m off on Sundays, I cook for the family at my place, or at Mom’s, since it’s bigger.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  “Huh?”

  “I sensed that about you. Close family, Sunday dinners. Marion tries to do that as well, but it’s like herding cats. Kane has two younger sisters. Jaclyn has three kids, and Lucy has two and one on the way. All are five and under, and there’s a set of twins.”

  She gives a low slow whistle. “That’s a good size family.”

  “Yeah it is,” I say and offer her a smile.

  “Mom and Dad are anxiously awaiting grandkids,” she says, and there’s a hitch in her voice, like she’s choking on the words.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s all I ever hear about.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “Um, I’m single, Rider.”

  I take in her beauty, everything from her freckles to the warmth in her eyes. “For the life of me I can’t figure out why.”

  She snorts and twists her mouth, and beneath the wry look on her face, I get a glimpse of some deeper pain. Her hands intertwine on her lap, and she turns from me. What is it she doesn’t want me to know…to see? Not that it’s any of my business. While I might be honest, there is a part of me I keep hidden, too.

  “Do you want kids, Jules?” I probe.

  “I suppose so, yeah. But it’s not in my future.” I’m about to ask why but she turns the question back to me. “Do you want a big family?” she asks.

  “Bachelor for life,” I say, a canned response that holds no emotions—one I’d practiced for years. She opens her mouth, and I gesture with a nod. “We’re here.”

  Her eyes narrow as she looks out into the street. “Why are we at Pike’s Place Market? There are no art galleries here.”

  “Come see.” I open the door, circle the vehicle and put my arm around her waist. She gives me a quizzical look.

  “What are you up to, Rider?” she asks.

  “See that alleyway?” She turns and looks into the dark space. “That’s where we’re going.”

  “You expect me to go into an alleyway with you, in the middle of the night?”

  “Hey, we’re friends, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re friends,” she agrees.

  “Good, then you can trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you. And it’s eleven o’clock. Not the middle of the night, unless you go to bed after dinner.” She eyes me and I laugh. “Oh, hell you do.”

  “I’m not a night owl, or a thrill-seeker like you,” she announces with a tip of her chin. God, she’s so adorable, it takes everything in me not to bend forward and plant my lips on hers.

  “You’re killing me, Jules,” I say and tug on her hand. “Come on.”

  I lead her into the alleyway, where there are a few people milling about and she tenses.

  “Rider,” she says, and shuffles a little closer to me.

  I call up my flashlight app, and shine it on the wall.

  “Oh my God,” she says and starts laughing. “That’s disgusting. I can’t believe you brought me here.”

  “It’s not disgusting. It’s bubble gum art.” I shake my head and wave my hand toward the colorful display. “Now of all people, I thought you’d see the beauty in it.”

  She turns to me. “I really don’t,” she says and purses her lips. “Like…at all.”

  I hold my phone up. “Look, people have made heart art and fruit art. I think that’s a cluster of grapes, and over there, if you really stretch your imagination, you can almost see an elephant in that cluster. It’s quite fascinating, if you ask me.”

  “I think I need to show you my version of art,” she says.

  “I do remember you saying something about you getting to pick the next place we go.”

  Her eyes move over my face, and I can almost hear the wheels spinning in her brain. I’m not sure what is going through that pretty head of hers, but she’s definitely waging some sort of battle.

  “Well…” she begins, her body so close to mine I can practically feel her heart beating. Heat arcs between us, and dammit, I’m pretty damn certain I’m not the only one feeling this. We have a connection, some strange sort of chemistry. And that, my friends, is damn near impossible to ignore.

  “Well, what?” I ask, my knuckles brushing up against hers. The second our fingers connect, my dick reacts.

  “We could go back to my place and I could show you what I’ve been working on.”

  “I’d love to see your art,” I say softly, and resist the urge to say that I’d love to see more of her too—without clothes. Truthfully, I want her. I want her in ways I haven’t wanted another in…ever. Which means I need to back the fuck off. Only problem is, in my current state of arousal, that signal is not quite reaching my thickening dick—and that guy has a mind of its own.

  6

  Jules

  I cast a sidelong glance at Rider as he negotiates the damp streets. I honestly can’t believe I suggested we go back to my place. My God, it’s been so long since a man has graced my condo. My cat is likely to go ballistic, and do I really know this guy? Not really. Yet I feel like we’ve known each other forever. It’s strange, really. We just met, but our easy rapport and chemistry makes it feel like I’ve known him for a lifetime.

  “You okay?” he asks, as if he can feel my eyes drilling in to the side of his head.

  “I’m good,” I answer quietly, and tear my gaze away to stare out the window.

  “Hey,” he says, his hand snaking across the seat to cover mine. He gives it a little squeeze. “We can go grab a bite to eat if you’ve changed your mind. We don’t have to go back to your place.”

  I chuckle at that. “You’re always hungry, aren’t you?”

  He laughs. “Pretty much. I’m a growing boy.”

  “You’re a full-grown man,” I say, and take in the scruff on his chin. Yeah, he’s a man all right, and every time I look at him, I remember I’m a woman.

  “Burned a lot of calories at the game tonight.”

  “How about grilled cheese? My specialty,” I say, letting him know I’m okay with him coming back to my condo.

  “Only my favorite,” he says.

  “If I would have said pizza?”

  “Also, only my favorite.”

  I laugh and relax into the seat. What is it about this man that puts me at ease? Maybe it’s because I know he doesn’t expect anything from me, and I don’t expect anything from him. Friends, yeah. I like that more and more. My mind turns back to our earlier conversation. He never did tell me if he wanted a family. He sort of hedged by saying he was a bachelor for life, and that tugs at my heart, really. He’s a nice guy, super hilarious and fun to be with. Plus, I really like how he watched out for me at the bar, wanting to ensure I was safe with Tate.

  He takes the corner to my street, knowing the way since he dropped me off the other night and pulls into the driveway. I glance up and down the sidewalk. It’s a young neighborhood, with numerous families, an
d kids. I bought into the community because the price was right, and it was close to work, not because I thought I’d one day have kids playing in the yard.

  But you do want that, Jules?

  “You have a nice place,” he says, looking at my small condo through the Jeep’s window. “I meant to tell you that last time.”

  “It’s home.” I let loose a breath. It might be small, but it’s all mine.

  He nods, but as he stares off into the distance, he looks like his thoughts are a million miles away. “Home is good.” He turns to me. “Did you grow up around here?”

  “My parents aren’t too far. Far enough that they have to call first. I mean I love them, but you know, I wouldn’t want them to walk in on me if I was...” Cripes, why can’t I stop thinking about sex.

  He laughs at that. “You’re an adult.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll always be their little girl.”

  He goes quiet for a long time, so long I think he might have changed his mind about coming in, but then he says, “I like that.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Out in Madison,” he says, almost like he’s embarrassed by the rich neighborhood. “Cole bought a home there—he’s my buddy on the team, and I found a nice place near him. Kane isn’t too far from me either.”

  “Far enough that he has to call?” I joke.

  “Nope, and he has a key to my place. He can come and go any time he likes.”

  “That’s nice that you guys are so close. Are your…uh, Kane’s parents nearby?” I ask. He frowns and my stomach knots. Maybe I shouldn’t be probing too deeply here. Things clearly went on in his life that he doesn’t want to talk about.

  “About half an hour away,” he says and reaches for the door, shutting the conversation down.

  Taking the hint, I open my door and slide from the car. Rider meets me at the front of the Jeep and I fish my keys from my purse as he follows me up the short walkway.