The Bet

by D. K. Combs

  “Yeah…Whatever.” Chase grunted. “So, hey, about this basketball game tonight. Courtside tickets to the Knicks with our names on them. You down?”

  “Shit, that was tonight?”

  He’d already texted her. There was no way he could just text her and say, “Oops, just kidding.”

  There were plenty of other games Chase and him could go to in the future. Tonight, though… If he called off tonight, there was a chance she wouldn’t give him the time of day.

  He told himself it was for the sake of the bet.

  “Yeah, about that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d love to, but I, uh...plans. Tonight. I already scheduled them.”

  Chase gave him a skeptical frown.

  “Yeah, with who? You never make plans with other people when I’m in town. Oh—wait, are you going out with Alex?”

  Noah scoffed before he could stop himself.

  “Yeah, no. Not ever again. Alex and I are done.”

  “All right, well who is it?” Chase sat up straighter in his spot. He was obviously cluing into the fact that Noah was hiding something, but he couldn’t say what. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to admit that he was going out with Bristol.

  He was allowed to have his secrets. Tonight wasn’t part of the bet, it wasn’t part of anything concerning Chase. He had no plans to sleep with her—shit, he didn’t have any plans yet, just knew they were happening, and that was good enough. Right? This was none of Chase’s business.

  Noah just really didn’t want to deal with the drama. For reasons unknown to Noah, Chase had a bone to pick where Bristol and he were concerned. It was like he’d had a target painted on her back from the first time he had seen Noah’s reaction to her. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the drama of Chase getting butthurt that he wasn’t going out to a game with him, but instead taking out the girl Chase wanted to emotionally ruin.

  The realization sat ill with him, and he was glad he wasn’t disclosing who it was.

  “Just a potential business partner. Big deal.” Both were true—in a way. Bristol was a potential business partner in that she was going to help him get a lot of money for his bike, and yeah, she was a big deal.

  “Ah,” Chase said, obviously not convinced all the way. “It’s not Bristol, is it? You know sleeping with her would call off the bet.”

  “Do I look like the kind of guy Bristol would be seen dead with?” He laughed, the sound hollow, feeling like a piece of shit. He would gladly tell Chase the truth if it weren’t for the fact that he got butthurt so easily. He knew his friend would have a problem with who he was going out with. All Noah was doing was avoiding an argument.

  “I mean, you aren’t wrong there. What is that place you always went to with your dad? The Barn Bash? I couldn’t see Bristol dead in there.” Chase sighed and stood up, stretching. “If anything falls through, just let me know. Was kind of planning on that game with you tonight. Even mentioned it before I came out here.”

  Noah pulled out his phone, fingers tapping quickly over the screen. Where she was going, she wouldn’t want to be dressed up in a pencil skirt.

  Thanks to Chase, and how much of a shitty friend Noah was, he had the perfect date idea.

  “Noah,” Chase said, annoyed.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He slid the phone back into his pocket, then guided his friend out of the house. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “For sure. Let me know how it goes, I guess.” Chase gave him one last look, a skeptical, almost irate look on his face, then jogged out to his truck.

  He looked down at his phone, checking for a response.

  Not a single one.

  He wasn’t too worried. Eventually, she’d reply. She was too curious not to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Be ready by eight tonight.

  Bristol stared down at the phone, trying to place the number. It was a local area code, but not one that was registered on her phone, and none of her clients would have ever spoken to her like that. She paused in the middle of the hallway, her finger hovering over the reply box.

  She toed her shoes off as she stepped farther into her flat, the ambient lighting turned on as she went.

  She had half a mind to reply back to it, but before she could even make that decision, three little dots appeared on the screen, letting her know they were typing.

  And leave your hair down.

  It was Noah, she realized, a warm feeling coming over her. Wait, no—no warm feelings. Only anger. Or concern. Or whatever you were supposed to feel when a guy you wanted to bone somehow got your number and randomly texted you.

  The list. He’d gotten her number from the stationery paper. A few years ago, when she had just been starting out as the CEO, she had ordered so much personalized stationery that she’d brought some home. On that stationery was her number, email, and office address.

  She didn’t say anything back and slid her phone into her pocket. There was no way she was preparing herself for anything with him. He was a player, a horny bastard who took what he wanted, when he wanted, regardless if she wanted to give it or not—which, most often times she did, but she was trying to stop that cycle!

  As she started to take off her clothes, her lips pursed. What would he have planned with her, anyway? There wasn’t much that she found fun. Crowds stressed her out, movie theaters were not her thing, and it was too cold to go on a walk.

  Not only that, but she was willing to bet he would pick her up on that damn bike.

  She rolled her eyes, walking farther into her room. That idiotic man, riding a bike at the brink of winter… What was he thinking? That it was fun to freeze your face off?

  She had no problem with bikes. Not at all. As long as they weren’t disruptive during her office hours, then he could rev up and down all he wanted to. She even knew a thing or two about bikes from her childhood, but that was beside the point.

  Riding a bike in the winter was not only stupid but dangerous.

  She would have to tell him that the next time he came around, she thought, nodding her head. She slid her shirt off and laid it on the bed, now in her room. Next came the slacks, and then her underwear. A second later, she was grabbing her fluffy brown towel and stepping into the bathroom, setting her phone on the marble countertops.

  The tiled floor was cold, and she knew that once she walked into her shower, the stone would be that much worse until the water warmed it up. She turned on the water, and steam quickly started to rise seconds later.

  There was no way she could go out tonight. Tomorrow was her first day off in a while, and her visit to the hospital was long overdue. She would have to go to the bank, and then head there early in the morning. Going on a date with him tonight wasn’t feasible.

  She set the towel on the counter and then stepped into the shower.

  She had spent hours with the designer over this bathroom. It was a place for her to unwind, to relax, and making it perfect had been important to her. The ambient light created a soft glow. The farthest wall opposite of the large walk-in stone shower was brown, matching that of her bedroom. Once she walked into the bathroom, the large, wall-to-wall mirror spread before her, with a couple’s sink spanning the same width of the mirror. Tucked away in the brown corner was the toilet with a separating wall. The tile under her feet was a tan color, and all of the browns, tans, and marbles were tied together by the walk-in shower that was to the right of the doorway.

  It was huge and enclosed, which was what she liked. The stone was a mixture of deep grays and speckles of brown, and the bench inside of it matched.

  Her phone vibrated on the counter, and whoever it was could wait. She wanted to enjoy her shower, and then she was going to wrap herself in a large white robe, have her glass of wine and start dinner.

  Simple. Easy. No Noah to worry about, no undeniable sexual tension to worry about.

  And when she went to bed, she was going to sleep for as long as she could. Tomorrow would be her first day off in weeks
, and after everything that had gone down in the past few days, she needed to be prepared for the hospital visit. Going out with Noah tonight would put a damper on her plans, she thought.

  Although, she was still curious.

  What would he have planned for them? Would they finally give into each other and have sex?

  At the thought, her body tingled. There’s been so much teasing with no actual completion, and it was starting to take away her common sense.

  Common sense would tell her not to sleep with a man who kept coming around. Common sense would tell her to stop encouraging behavior she didn’t like. Common sense would tell her to just block him completely out.

  Instead of doing all of the things it should, common sense was gone. It had left her long ago, and probably wouldn’t come back until she was a panting, trembling orgasming mess underneath Noah—or any man. It didn’t have to be just Noah, she told herself. He wasn’t the only man in the world that could make a woman tremble.

  But he’s the only one you want to make you tremble.

  Stupid. So stupid. All she knew about him was that he liked motorcycles—that was it! Otherwise, he was a complete stranger who just happened to rock her socks off, and that was not okay, either.

  She had to focus on her job. On her career.

  Not some guy.

  Not some man who she just couldn’t stop thinking about, and was currently causing her to reach for her good shampoo and conditioner, the stuff she used only when she planned on going out.

  She wasn’t planning on anything, not at all, but it just seemed...fitting. That, and she couldn’t really control her actions. She made sure to thoroughly scrub every inch of her body, letting the conditioner soak into her hair, and when she was done with the shower, she found herself standing in front of her closet, her hair wrapped up in a towel, actually debating what she would wear—if she went out with him.

  Not that she was planning on it.

  “Why are you bothering thinking about him? You’re nothing, remember? What makes you think he seriously wants to take you out? Pathetic.”

  She sighed, then backed out of the closet. Of course, that voice would come back now of all times. She turned off the light, thinking it would be better to just stay home. The memories creeping along the edge of her thoughts weighed on her, depressed her.

  There was no use looking at clothes when all she planned on doing was getting into her robe.

  As she walked to her bed, the fluffy white robe hanging off of the headboard, she heard her phone buzzing in the bathroom.

  Her heart started to hammer, and she peeked around the corner, eyes narrow.

  Was it him? Texting her again?

  If so, she was not answering! Still...she wanted to see what he was saying. Maybe he had taken the hint and canceled whatever he had planned, or maybe he was telling her to do something else.

  She would much prefer the former. She was the boss of herself. Not him. The way he just assumed control of the situation...it wasn’t good.

  Even if it did make her weak in the knees. Something about him was just so easy to trust. For whatever reason, it was easy to let him just take control—and that was not something she had relinquished since the day she had taken over as CEO of Roderick Rhodes, Inc.

  In order to live her life the way she did, she needed control.

  And yet, with him....

  She shook the thoughts out of her head and straightened her shoulders. She was thinking about nonsense right now. Most likely, he was telling her that he was canceling the plans, and that was for the better.

  Bristol exchanged her towel for the robe, then went into the bathroom to take hold of her phone.

  Three missed calls. One text message.

  She swallowed thickly, nervously looking at the text message first.

  Hour and a half left. Dress casual. Address?

  She wanted to scoff, but she was too busy giggling.

  Giggling, of all things.

  Bristol Thompson. Giggling. Like a giddy little school girl—who wasn’t even going on the date in the first place!

  She closed out of the text messages and went to her missed calls. She didn’t take Noah to be so persistent as to actually call her about it, but—

  The screen came up, and the recent calls glared at her as reality came back to her like a smack to the face. The white screen didn’t hold his name, but the last one she had wanted to see.

  They weren’t from Noah.

  Her throat closed up and she set the phone slowly on the counter, backing out of the bathroom.

  All of that giddiness went crashing and burning.

  She shouldn’t be so surprised. She normally got the calls after work, later at night. That’s when he would normally drink, or wake up to start drinking again. It had been that way for the last seven years, so why hadn’t she just known it was going to be him?

  The night she got the calls were the worst. They didn’t come often, maybe three or four times a week and only once or twice in a night, but it was hard to write them off, hard to forget that part of her past, even more so when his voice taunted her over every insecurity.

  Bristol passed her closet, then paused.

  When she was with Noah, she didn’t think about that. Didn’t think about the calls, the stress, the past. Didn’t think about work or anything having to do with responsibilities. When she was with him, all she could think about was him, about her, about how she felt when she was with him.

  The freedom she felt to just step away from it all…

  And she realized she wanted it. At least for tonight. If this was her trying to escape the weight of the calls, then so be it. At least she was going to be doing something with someone she could let loose with—even if that was against every boundary she had created last night.

  She went back into the bathroom, picked up her phone, and texted him her address.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “We are not eating here. No. No way. This...This is probably rat infested, Noah.”

  She stared at the building, dressed in jeans and a sweater while sitting pertly in his passenger seat, with growing horror. It didn’t look like much—and it wasn’t. The discolored barn-style building looked as run down as the building beside it, but there were cars parked everywhere, and people were milling in and out.

  He gave her another look, and this time, he couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came from him.

  She looked horrified.

  “Oh, poor Miss Priss,” he said, chuckling. “Grab your purse and get out. Let’s do this.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Out,” he said sternly, climbing out of his own seat. When she simply sat there, her eyes wide, face pale and distraught, he went around to her side, opened the door, and practically dragged her onto her feet. “There’s nothing to be scared of. This place has been here for years.”

  “Exactly how many?” she asked thinly, wrapping her arms around herself. He slid an arm around her shoulder and guided her willowy body into the fray. She was like a warm, thin bundle, and as he encouraged her to keep moving, he realized just how physically weak she was.

  “I heard their steak is great,” he said casually, bending close so she could hear him over the wind. “But some of the reviews said there are a few obscure looking bones in them—someone even said it tasted like human flesh, so that’s always a plus.”

  “Oh, it must be,” she said, giving him a droll look. “There’s a sushi place out by my house that uses moldy intestines for the ‘seaweed’. I swear it.”

  He gave her a bemused look, and then held the door open for her, guiding her inside.

  The scent of meat hit his nose like a sledgehammer, and he sighed. Despite the outward appearance, the menu here was amazing. They offered twelve different types of burgers, their beer selection was off the charts, and the atmosphere hadn’t changed in ages. It was still the same happy, cozy, easy-going place he had gone to with his dad back when he’d been young
.

  He kept his laugh to himself as she looked at him, cheeks flushed, angry. She could get as pissy as she wanted, but nothing was going to change the fact that they were eating at this dump. She was probably used to high-class cocktail lounges and five-star restaurants where a small serving of noodles was over a hundred bucks.

  Unfortunately for her, that was not going to happen tonight.

  Fortunately for him, he was going to get the show of a lifetime.

  He didn’t know what was possessing him to do this—and he wasn’t talking about taking her out to eat.

  It was the fact that he was taking her out at all.

  Chase’s one requirement had been that he couldn’t sleep with her, and yet every time they were together, that’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to shove her up against a wall, the car, or down onto the floor, and fuck her senseless. He wanted to watch her come undone for him. He wanted to watch her become a flaming, hot mess in his arms, wanted to taste the passion he had found deep behind her barriers.

  It was all waiting to be taken—by someone else who didn’t have a bet to win.

  Screw Chase. Screw him and his shit. He was close to texting Chase that it was off, but he couldn’t make himself do it—just like he hadn’t been able to make himself kiss Madeline, knowing full well that Bristol would see it.

  It seemed he couldn’t do anything, which put him at an impasse.

  And also pissed him off.

  What was so hard about walking away from her? Why was it that every time he left her, he fully intended not to see her again—and yet, every time he walked away, he was already planning how he could see her?

  The realization was maddening. Infuriating. But everything about her...was not even close to the case. Not a lot of things besides his shop could make him smile—and yet, every time he watched her cheeks go red, saw her eye twitch, or noticed her lips pursing with displeasure, he couldn’t help but feel...thrilled.

  And now, he was standing there, watching Bristol’s eyes take in the place with just the slightest smidge of disgust and astonishment in them.