Flirty Ever Afters: A Flirt Club Collection

by Tracy Lorraine

  With the assistance of the maître d’, I slide out of my coat and order a glass of champagne to keep me company while I wait for my date.

  Shit.

  I thought I was nervous on the drive here. But now sitting and staring at the empty chair in front of me, I feel like I could puke on the shiny tiled floor under my feet.

  Pulling my cell from my clutch, I send Bryony a panicked message.

  What if he doesn’t show?

  He will. You look gorgeous. She responds immediately, it’s as if she was waiting for me to freak out.

  Eight o’clock comes and goes, and I’ve almost drained my glass while wondering if I should admit defeat when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Looking up, I find a man staring directly at me as he walks towards the table.

  The second our eyes connect, it’s like the world’s fallen out from beneath me.

  I feel like I’ve been winded as I stare at him.

  My worst nightmare.

  The captain of the football team.

  Seth Brady.

  6

  Seth

  I had every intention of being there, waiting for her, but everything about today is fucking with me. The latest problem being the taxi I ordered never arrived, so I ended up driving, getting stuck in construction traffic, and ultimately being late.

  The longer I sat there, the more likely it was that I was going to be the guy to stand up a girl on Valentine’s Day. I may not have been the best date—I could say boyfriend, but I’d use that term very lightly—in the past, but standing someone up on the most romantic day of the year was low, even for me.

  I could have phoned the restaurant, but my disaster of a day also included shattering my cell on the kitchen floor. Honestly, I’m not sure what else could go wrong.

  I see her the moment the maître d’ starts leading me towards our table. It’s not just that she’s the only person sitting alone at a table that draws me to her, but the aura surrounding her. Innocence mixed with confidence and beauty.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  Her dark hair’s curled and laying over one shoulder, her make-up light, showing off her natural, pretty face, and she’s wearing a red dress that dips low enough to show of the most deliciously teasing amount of cleavage.

  Fucking hell. It seems my luck has just turned around.

  “The waiter will be over shortly to take your orders. Have a wonderful evening,” the maître d’ says before disappearing from sight. Not that I was looking at him. The woman in front of me has stolen every bit of my attention.

  “You sure don’t look like a book nerd.” I pull my chair out and sit down. I can feel her eyes on me, but it’s not until I look up again that I notice the expression on her face and, dare I say it, the hate pouring from her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows drawing together in confusion.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeats, sounding offended I even asked the question. “You. You are what’s wrong. I should have known this was too good to be true.”

  The screech of her forcing her chair back has me jumping into action.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving. This was a massive mistake.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

  “Just because you don’t recognize me, doesn’t mean I don’t know you.”

  My fingers encircle her wrist as she goes to walk past me. She looks down at my hand with disgust before pulling away from my grasp.

  She may be a foot shorter, but she stands tall in front of me, eyes hard, lips set in a thin line. She waits a beat for me to say something but all I can think is that I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. The fire in her eyes is drawing me in.

  My hand moves of its own accord, but the second she registers it’s moving towards her cheek, she bats me away.

  “We’re done here, Seth.” The way she says my name has lust racing through me.

  By the time I catch up with her, the maître d’ is assisting her into her coat.

  “Wait,” I call, following her through the doors and out onto the street.

  “You’ve already said enough,” she snaps.

  “I’ve barely said anything.”

  “Trust me, it’s more than I want to hear.”

  As she stares at me, challenging me, I can’t help feeling that her eyes are a little familiar.

  “This isn’t over.” I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a promise as I watch her storm down the street and flag down a taxi.

  The second I get home, I jog up the stairs and pull out a couple of boxes I haven’t opened in years. Rummaging through, I eventually find what I’m looking for. My senior yearbook.

  Flipping open the first page, I start running my eyes over all the students staring back at me.

  The moment my gaze lands on her blue eyes, everything falls into place.

  Rosie Moore.

  She stands out like a sore thumb from the other girls’ shots. She’s not all dolled up to look her best on school photo day. Instead, she’s wearing little, if any, make-up, her hair is frizzy, and her glasses are a little wonky. She looks every bit the class nerd.

  Memories begin haunting me. I was a total ass to her. No, ass is too light a word.

  Rosie was an easy target for my younger self as I tried to cover up for my flaws. Outside the classroom, I was a god. But inside…I was failing. I was drowning and I didn’t want anyone to see.

  It took a therapist a few years later to figure all this out. I was living under the fame and success of all the other men in my family. Each of them not only talented on the field, but also straight-A students. I didn’t live up to that. So, to stop everyone around me from finding out how badly I was struggling, I shifted the attention. It was an immature and stupid thing to do; I’m well aware of that now. But at the time it was the perfect solution.

  I continue looking at her little thumbnail and can’t believe that no one could see the beauty hiding behind the big hair and thick-rimmed glasses. It’s clear as day to me now. It’s also clear that little Rosie Moore was also hiding, and I’m determined to find out what from.

  She might have run, but I’m about to start the chase.

  7

  Rose

  Laughter fills the room. My cheeks heat and my heart races. Everyone starts chanting but the panic erupting stops me from registering their words for a few seconds.

  “Frigid. Frigid. Frigid.”

  Staring at the amused green eyes only inches from mine, I swallow down my panic. His strong arms cage me in and his scent surrounds me.

  No one can deny Seth’s hot. It’s just a shame he’s such a douchebag.

  Our audience changes their tactic.

  “Kiss her…Kiss her…”

  His head moves, and at the last minute I duck under his arm and run from the gym as fast as I can.

  I wake with my heart racing and the image of those emerald eyes filling my mind.

  “Asshole,” I mutter to myself, flinging the covers back and making my way to the kitchen as more memories I thought I’d locked down threaten to pop to the surface.

  I hated high school, but I hated the football team and Seth Brady more.

  “Your date was Seth fucking Brady?” Bryony squeals excitedly at me a few days later. Much to her annoyance, I locked myself in my house and ignored her calls all weekend as I wallowed in self-pity and ice cream. “I can’t believe you went to school with him and never told me. He’s so hot,” she breathes dreamily.

  “He’s also a ginormous asshole.”

  “Yeah, but those thighs…” She trails off, lost in her own imagination.

  “Not worth it.”

  “I bet he totally would be.” I give her a hard stare, trying to prove my point before getting up to get a refill. “Or…” she starts. “You could totally get back at him.”

  That gets my interest. “How?”

  “So many ways.”

  I don’
t really want to give Seth the time of day, but I can’t deny the excitement that fills my veins at the thought of getting revenge.

  I eventually manage to steer the conversation away from my disastrous date and Bryony’s fantasy of bagging a football player.

  By the time I climb into bed, I’ve just about managed to put thoughts of him to the back of my mind. That doesn’t mean my dreams don’t take me back there once again.

  As the days pass by, I come to the conclusion that he clearly wasn’t interested in me because I receive no more letters. I chalk it up as a bad experience and cancel my profile with What The Heart Wants. I don’t need a repeat performance if Grace finds out our match failed before it ever really started.

  “Rose, there’s someone looking for you,” Lacey, my manager, says after poking her head into our staff room during my afternoon break. Putting down my bag of Hershey’s Kisses, I push my chair out and follow her from the room.

  My guess would be that it’s Bryony, but Lacey knows her. What I’m not expecting to find when I walk towards the desk is a giant of a man I’d quite happily never see again.

  “He’s fine. Where did you meet him?” Lacey whispers as we get closer. If Seth’s raised eyebrows are anything to go by, she wasn’t quiet enough.

  “What?” I snap when I’m two feet away from him. I don’t miss Lacey’s gasp at my tone. There are very few people who’ve ever experienced me angry, but it seems that Seth is asking to be one of them.

  “That’s no way to greet your Valentine.”

  I don’t need to turn around to know Lacey’s smile is splitting her face. Bryony isn’t the only one who gives me grief about still being single.

  “What. Do. You. Want?” I’m not a teenager anymore, and I’m not afraid to go toe-to-toe with him. I’ve grown up a lot since the last time I saw him and I intend on standing up for myself.

  “You.”

  My mouth drops open but no words form. He stays silent as he waits for my response. When it comes, I don’t think it’s what he was expecting because his brow creases as I stand there, laughing. “Me? You want me? That’s funny. But sadly for you, unlike every other female on the planet, I have no interest in you whatsoever. So, do yourself a favour and head back out the way you came in.”

  His chin drops, his lips twitching up into a small smile as his eyes leisurely peruse my body. My temperature spikes as my body takes on a mind of its own, and it only adds fuel to my fire.

  “We’re done here, Seth. This whole thing was one massive mistake. You need to leave.”

  “Well…little Rosie Moore has grown up in more ways than one.” His focus lingers on my breasts before he finds my narrowed eyes. He doesn’t back down. If anything, his shoulders widen in challenge.

  “Don’t call me that,” I seethe. “What do I need to do to make you go away?”

  I can hear Lacey laughing behind me, but I ignore her and keep my gaze locked on his.

  “Go on another date with me.”

  “Because the first one was so great,” I deadpan. His hopeful expression doesn’t change. He also doesn’t move an inch.

  “When?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Where?”

  “Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “No chance. Tell me where and I’ll…I’ll meet you there.” I already regret the decision, but I need him to leave.

  He stares at me for a beat. “The Olive Tree.”

  “Fine. You can leave now,” I say when he still makes no effort to turn around and walk out.

  Unfortunately, he seems way too amused by my irritation, and when he does move it’s not to get farther away from me.

  His cheek brushes mine as he leans towards my ear to whisper, “Wear the red dress again. It was hot.”

  My body betrays me once again as goosebumps race across my skin. He leaves me standing there, a jittery mess, as he strolls towards the door. At the very last minute he turns back, and the smile that lights up his face almost knocks me on my ass. His eyes tell me everything I don’t need to know in that moment.

  He knows he’s got to me. Asshole.

  “Who the hell was that?” Lacey asks, her gaze still on the now closed door that Seth just disappeared through.

  “Seth Brady,” I mutter.

  “Seth Brady, as in, star of the Kansas City Chiefs, Seth Brady?”

  “The one and only.”

  “And no offense, but why was he in here getting abused by you?”

  “I walked out on a date with him.”

  “You walked out on a date with Seth Brady. Are you mental?”

  “No, he’s an asshole.”

  “He’s a very pretty asshole. But didn’t you just arrange another date?”

  “I’m not going to show up,” I admit. But as the words fall from my lips, I know it’s a lie.

  I don’t hang around long enough for Lacey to ask any more questions. Turning on my heel, I march back towards my forgotten chocolate to start scheming up a plan.

  8

  Seth

  I make sure I’m on time for this date. No, not just on time, but insanely early.

  I’ve been sitting here for over forty minutes, ten minutes past when she was meant to be here, and I’m still waiting. For the first time in my life, I actually care that she’s going to stand me up. I’ve found one woman I want to find out more about and she’s doing her utmost to get rid of me. The challenge she offers me is kind of refreshing after having women fall over themselves to get to me for the last few years.

  I start to think I’ve been stood up for the first time in my life when something has me looking towards the entrance. I watch, enthralled, as the maître d’ slides her coat from her body, revealing her stunning figure. I smile to myself when I see she’s ignored my demand for her to wear the red dress. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The black, elegant dress she’s chosen for tonight is no less sexy. It’s skin-tight and when she turns, I run my eyes up her curvy leg, revealed by the split in the fabric. My mouth waters with the knowledge that if I were offered the chance to get my fingers on the zipper, the dress would immediately fall to the ground, revealing her perfect curves. But I know there’s a very slim possibility of that happening because the woman hates me, and rightly so. I need to show her the boy she remembers isn’t the man I am today.

  I rise from my seat the moment she turns and begins walking my way. The second our eyes connect, an alien tingling feeling starts up in my belly. It only gets worse when her lips curl up just slightly, as if she is a tiny bit happy to see me.

  “Thank you,” she says politely when I beat the maître d’ to it, pulling her chair out for her. “Could I get a glass of champagne, please?”

  “Of course. I’ll get someone to bring it over right away.”

  “It’s good to see you, Rosie.”

  Her eyes harden at my use of her name. “It’s Rose, just Rose.”

  “Okay, well…it’s still good to see you.”

  Silence surrounds us and is thankfully broken when the waiter places her drink on the table and tells us tonight’s specials.

  “How did you find out where I worked?”

  I was waiting for this question. I’m surprised it didn’t come the day I walked into her store. “You said in one of your letters you worked in a bookstore, so I started hunting.”

  “You went to every bookstore in town just to find me?”

  “Guilty.” She almost looks impressed with the effort I put in.

  “And how many had you visited before you found me?”

  “About six.”

  “You must have really wanted to find me.”

  “You’ve no idea.” She doesn’t respond. Instead, she just sits and stares at me, waiting. After swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say the words I need to say to her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her eyebrows rise as she waits for me to continue. I guess it was stupid of me to think she’d let me off that easily.

  “My
behaviour towards you when I was a kid was totally unacceptable. I used you as a way to hide, and it was wrong.”

  “What the hell did you have to hide from?” she asks, looking confused.

  “Everyone expected a certain level of success from me and I wasn’t capable, so I covered it up.”

  “Stop talking crap. You were Seth Brady, captain of the football team and superstar at everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me you pissed liquid gold.”

  I fight to keep my drink in my mouth. I’m not sure spraying her with my beer would help convince her to like me.

  “I can assure you, I do not piss liquid gold,” I admit with a laugh. “I’m far from perfect, Rose. My behaviour towards you is just one example of that. Please, let me show you that isn’t who I am. I really…” My words trail off as my eyes drop to where her tongue is running over her bottom lip as she considers what I’ve just said.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” she says eventually, but I can tell by her face that it pains her to do so. It seems I’ve got my work cut out for me.

  It occurs to me that I didn’t need to do any of this, put all my insecurities on the line, beg her to spend time with me. If it was any other woman sitting across from me at the table in The Harlequin last week, then I probably wouldn’t be bothering. But from the moment I received her first letter I’ve been intrigued to find out more about her, and that desire has only gotten stronger since finding out who she really is.

  “Tell me about you. What did you do after graduation? How did you end up in a bookstore?”

  “I studied English at Oak Ridge, but my grandparents died right before I graduated and that kind of killed off any ambitions I had. So, I came back here, turned their bungalow into my home, and found a job at the bookstore. I love being surrounded by books every day.”

  “You said you wanted to write?”