Strike

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Yeah, I love it. I’ve been lucky enough to travel the world and get paid to do it. Have you travelled much?”

  “Yeah, the States, bit of Asia, but I’m keen to do a tour of Europe.”

  Another dish replaces our empty one: a plate of crispy chicken wings with slices of red chilli and shallots sprinkled over the top.

  “Mmm,” she mumbles. “I hope you like chilli, because these suckers are hot. Sorry, I ordered mainly finger food, so I hope you’re prepared to get dirty.”

  “I’m prepared alright, as hot and as dirty as you want.”

  Chuckling, she squirms in her seat, rubbing her leg against mine. “Don’t take my thoughts there, pretty boy,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at me.

  “Why not?” Is she sitting there thinking sexy shit about us, because damn it if I’m not doing that myself.

  “Never mind,” she says. The corner of her sweet mouth curls to the side. She picks up a chicken wing, and takes a bite. I probably should do the same rather than just stare her while she eats.

  She picks up a napkin and dabs at her lips. “So, where’s the most amazing place you’ve ever been?”

  “Mmm … I went skiing in Japan, that’s definitely gotta be up there. What about you?”

  “Last year I went to Pamplona in Spain … went running with the bulls.”

  She did fucking what? She says it like she’s telling me what she had for lunch. Like it was no big deal. Not even I would have the balls to do something like that.

  “You’re shitting me,” I breathe, putting my wing down on my plate before I take a bite. Beautiful and ballsy. I’m thinking I’ve just found my new type of girl.

  “Close to the biggest rush of my life. Came close to one of the suckers too.” She giggles, and shakes her head. “You never know how fast you’re capable of running until one of them is behind you. It was complete and utter chaos. With the crowd cheering and runners screaming … my heart was thumping so hard in my ears it almost drowned out everything else.”

  “I can’t believe it … Be fucked if I could ever do something like that.”

  “Life’s too short to sit on the sidelines.”

  She’s right, and I’m far from doing that, it just sucks to have my parents to remind me at every opportunity what I should be doing with my life.

  “Yeah, I agree. So what did your parents think of you doing that?” There is no conceivable way that my folks would ever let me do something like that. Even at my age. I’m too precious a commodity for the CJ Capital ‘empire’ to continue. An empire I couldn’t care less about.

  “My dad had done it himself back in the day, so he understood why I had to do it.”

  What kind of family had she come from? Ballerinas and running with the bulls. Fuck me.

  “Oh, and the La Tomatina festival in Bunol, Spain, was pretty cool. Twenty thousand people from all over the world, smashing tomatoes. Needless to say, I went off tomatoes for a while after that.”

  I saw footage on the news about the last festival: guys with their shirts off and girls wearing white soaked from head to toe in tomato juice, wildly wrestling in the streets. I bet there were some mad orgies that followed. I wonder if that’s her scene. If I had her, I’d be damned if I’d share her with anyone else.

  “Come on, eat up,” she says, and I realise I must have been staring.

  I take a wing, and the chilli zings like a bitch on the tip of my tongue. I grab the water glass and gulp it down, but it does little to soothe the burn. “You weren’t wrong about hot.”

  “Aw, too hot for you, huh?” she says and laughs.

  “Nope,” I say, trying to strangle the cough in my throat. Yes it’s fucking hot, but I’m not telling her that. “Let’s get some wine or something to wash these down.”

  “I like beer with wings,” she says, and picks up another wing.

  Beer. She drinks beer. Not a girly pink drink, but beer. Is there anything about this chick I won’t like? She licks her fingers, but this time she’s teasing me. She must be. My dick sure as hell thinks she is. I get the attention of the waitress and order two beers.

  “So obviously no girlfriend?” she asks, and blinks a few times in quick succession.

  “Nope.”

  At twenty-seven I’d barely had anything you’d call a proper relationship. The longest was three months and that was a long time ago. I’d been so used to playing the field, always presented with a smorgas-board of beauties. I was always moving onto the next one in line. Commitment was scarier than anything. Especially with the girls I’d had involvement with.

  “What about you. No boyfriend?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What’d ya do to him?” I blurt out, and then wish I could stuff the words back where they came from.

  “Why would you assume it was me?” she snaps. Fuck, I’ve overstepped the mark here.

  I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “I dunno, just thought maybe he couldn’t keep up with the bulls … or you tried to kill him with chilli.” Hopefully that’ll smooth things over. I don’t know what she thinks I’m assuming. I don’t even know myself. I should just keep my mouth shut and let her do the talking. Might keep me out of trouble.

  “Let’s just say he was one of the ones I was trying to please, but I ended up getting bitten on the arse.”

  “Bitten in a bad way, then.”

  “Yeah, not in the way I usually like,” she says softly.

  Now I have a visual of just that. I’d like to bite that neck of hers, and keep moving south. I could bite her wherever she wanted. She wouldn’t have to ask me twice.

  I crook my finger. April moves in closer, and draws her bottom lip between her teeth. The light above us casts a spotlight on the soft skin of her delectable cleavage. This time, I don’t care if I get caught staring at those puppies. And now, I’m hard.

  “You need to stop teasing me, April, otherwise I’ll have to take you to the back seat of your car.”

  “Ha! I’d like to see you try,” she scoffs.

  What did that mean? That she wouldn’t give me the opportunity or does she think I wouldn’t have it in me? I could take her, anywhere she wanted, but at this rate, my ‘performance’ would be over as soon as it started. This girl is making me hornier than I’ve been in weeks. Is it the conversation?

  “We’re just talking, Spencer. Try and keep your shit together.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “I’ll try.”

  The waitress brings another dish, with ribs covered in a dark glazed sauce that gleams under the overhead light. How does she stay so slim eating food like this? Did she order it thinking it would be more my style or is this her style?

  “Ah, the ribs,” she says, rubbing her hands together. Her grin grows wide across her face. “Shit’s about to get messy.”

  I laugh out loud, and pick up a rib. I like this girl.

  We talk for a while about our travels and adventures overseas. I can’t say I’m not jealous of the stamps in her passport. I enjoy watching her lick every last drop of sticky rib sauce off her fingers. A little too much.

  “Do you want another beer?” I ask, hoping she’ll stay longer. She’s looked at her watch a few times now, so I’m not overly hopeful.

  “Nah, I’m going to have to go, sorry. But thanks.”

  My disappointment slaps me in the face. Hard. Then it kicks me in the guts.

  “Surely you can stay a bit longer?”

  “I’d love to but I’m supposed to send off some shots tonight for a magazine proof.”

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  Is she trying to get rid of me? Surely I didn’t come across that bad. I could’ve really turned on the charm, but instead I actually toned it down. I just enjoyed talking. It’s been … different. I’ve been more myself with April than I have with anyone else in quite a while.

  “I’d like to do this again, April. Why don’t you give me your number?”

  She eyes me suspiciously. “Nah … I don’t thi
nk so,” she says.

  “Why not? Don’t you trust me?” I give her a smile, the one that usually has girls melting in their seats. It doesn’t seem to work as I’d hoped.

  “No, it’s me I don’t trust.” She sighs, as if waging some internal battle. Whatever happened with her ex, it’s obviously scared her off having a new relationship.

  Relationship? What the fuck am I talking about? Jones doesn’t do relationships. I just fuck. Then I move on, and fuck someone else. It’s common knowledge. I don’t even think I’d know what to do with a more permanent fixture than a one-night stand. There’d be getting groceries and shopping for bed linen and crap. I don’t know how to do any of that mundane shit with someone else. But talking with April—I could do that. Over and over. Maybe with all that talking, I’d get her into bed. Damn, that’d be something else.

  “Let me fix up the bill, then,” I offer. Before she gets the chance to protest, I move to the counter to pay. I snatch a napkin from the bar and borrow a pen from the waitress to write down my number. I fold the napkin and put it in my pocket.

  I turn to walk back to our table, and my feet glue to the ground. I’m pretty sure my jaw is hanging loose, but I don’t care. In a pair of tight black ripped jeans, April is out of her chair and bent over, giving me prime ogling position of the gap at the top of her thighs. Jesus, that is a mighty fine arse.

  And yes, she’s wearing boots. Black motorcycle boots. She stands up and slips on a black leather jacket and flicks her long hair from the collar. Looping her leather satchel over her head, she bends down again and picks up a helmet.

  Holy sweet mother of God. She rides.

  She’s gonna wrap those sexy lean legs around a bike. Now I’m instantly jealous. If only I could morph into a bike and she could ride me home. Damn it, if I’m ever gonna get that image out of my head.

  April turns and struts towards me, her eyes burning a trail from my head to my toes and back up again. Her winning smile causes an irregular thump in my chest as we stand almost eye-to-eye. Thank Christ I’m a couple of inches taller. I’ve at least got something over her.

  “Thank you. I would have paid but you ran over there like a man possessed. Good to see you didn’t go all exorcist and vomit everywhere.”

  Unable to stop myself, I let out a hearty chuckle. She’s right, I did. But I needed a way to get my number down. I can’t let her leave until she has it.

  “I promise, not a drop of green spew in sight. Come on, I’ll walk you to your bike.”

  She laughs, and I follow her out onto the street. When she walks beside my Range Rover, I move her up against it and tenderly kiss her soft lips. At first her body stiffens, but when I suck at her bottom lip and glide my tongue into her welcoming mouth, she sighs and melts in my arms. I slip the napkin into her jacket pocket and weave my hand around her small waist, pulling her close. If I ask for her number again and she says no, I don’t know what I’d do. Beg maybe? Surely she’ll call me. She has to. But I can’t make her. Hopefully this kiss will give her enough of a reason to.

  I take my time, savouring the heat of her mouth and the sweet restraint with which she kisses me back. All too soon she breaks away and smooths her hand over my chest, but I want more. More of her touch. I take a step back, giving her space.

  “I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, Spencer, but I would’ve thought generally you’d wait for an invitation,” she says softly, her brows pulled together. Is she pissed off or is she still making up her mind about me? I’ve got no clue.

  “Sorry … you wouldn’t give me your number, and I’ve been staring at those lips since I sat down. It would’ve driven me crazy to let you walk away without a taste.”

  “Crazy?” She raises an eyebrow, and puts her free hand on her hip. Her other hand still grips her helmet.

  I nod. “Certifiable.”

  “Ha, well, I might see you around. You never know your luck in the big city.”

  “Would I see you around here? The food’s good, surely that’ll bring you back.”

  Christ. How desperate do I sound? Trying to use the food as a way to lure her back. Well done, dickhead.

  “There may be something else to bring me back, but we’ll see.”

  She slides a twenty-dollar note into my shirt pocket, running her nail over my nipple. She did that on purpose for sure. At least, that’s what my dick’s telling me, twitching for my attention.

  “Thanks for the company. See ya round, Spencer.”

  “I certainly hope so, April.” I watch her walk across the street to her bike. But not just any bike: a Suzuki Bandit 1250. It’s black and sleek, and with her on top it’ll be the sexiest set of wheels I’ve ever had the pleasure of ogling. And I’ve seen my fair share of bikes.

  She straddles the bike, and flicks her hair over her shoulder before putting on and fastening her black helmet. She starts the bike with a roar, and salutes in my direction before tearing off down the street.

  Fuck. Me. Dead.

  I’ve gotta get home. I need a cold shower. Or to jerk off. Maybe both. Fucked if I know what to do with myself standing like an idiot in the street.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * APRIL *

  Two days later … (Friday)

  I should have given him my number. Was it wrong to think that I liked everything about him? His gorgeous deep blue eyes had instantly trapped my attention, making it hard to look away. He was a hottie, alright, and I now have a new appreciation for blondes. His short hair was swooped to the side, and my greedy fingers wanted to rake through it. The smooth golden skin of his face, and the peek of flesh at his open collar had left me wondering if the rest of his body was as tanned and silky.

  I’d appreciated every second I had with him, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough. But those lips. Fuck me, his mouth. I’d owned it for only the briefest moment in time but weren’t those lips the fucking bee’s knees? Hot and soft and sweet … I’ve relived that kiss more times than I probably should.

  I’d bet my last meal he’d be all Abercrombie & Fitch model material under those clothes, which seemed like they were custom made to fit his body. When I’d run my hand over his firm, sculpted chest, my resolve had just about disintegrated. After living with a slob for a boyfriend, I can appreciate a man that looks after himself. And Nick, well, that relationship was too short lived to even count.

  The only thing I didn’t get was the job. Finance. Working at ‘Daddy’s’ firm. I get the whole loyalty-to-the-family thing, but the job sounds boring as shit. Surely his family would see he’s not happy. I barely know him, and I got that vibe straight away. Somehow, I can tell there’s more to him than he was letting on. I just know it.

  Against every shred of my will power, I didn’t go back to Wild and Free-Range Café last night, even though I desperately wanted to see if he’d be there. It was the only way he could see me again. Sydney is too big a place to simply bump into one another.

  Anyhow, I didn’t know whether I was ready for anything casual, or serious for that matter. I don’t need to hand my number out to trouble. Trouble finds me well enough. There are enough toys in my drawer to keep my heart out of the firing line, and it’s probably best to rely on them, for now.

  Surprisingly, I’d enjoyed flirting with Spencer. Not something I do often. That little buzz I’d get when we’d touched or he’d laughed, and I couldn’t help but join him … I wonder if he’d even give me a second look if I went back there. I wasn’t prepared to go home with him that night, but I’m sure girls line up around the corner for him. There’s no way he’d be short a bed mate. Not with those pretty-boy looks, and that smile I tried to ignore. The one that had me wanting to take his hand and use it to soothe the ache between my legs. It seems like forever since a man has touched me, but the reality is, it’s only been a few weeks since I stormed out on Nick and got on the first flight home.

  After putting off the inevitable, I decide I have to clean this place. I’ve left shit lying everywhere because
now I’m living alone, I don’t have anyone to tell me what to do. And I love it, but if anyone were to come here they’d have trouble finding a clear path to anywhere. Except maybe to the fridge. At least I’d made the bed.

  I gather up a pile of clothes, and grab my leather jacket to hang up. Something white catches my eye in the pocket, and I put my hand in and pull out a folded napkin.

  My mouth’s still burning from the wings.

  Call and apologise anytime.

  - Spencer.

  Hah! His number is scrawled in the corner and underlined. I can’t believe he slipped me his number. When did he get the chance to do it? When we kissed. When my world was focused on that mouth of his. Sneaky. Very sneaky.

  I save his number in my phone, and send him a text.

  ME: FUNNY, I WAS DOING MY WASHING AND NOTICED YOU ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED A NAPKIN IN MY POCKET. JUST IN CASE YOU WERE MISSING IT, I THOUGHT I’D LET YOU KNOW I HAD IT. APRIL.

  A few minutes later, my phone beeps.

  SPENCER: REALLY? I DID? I’VE BEEN LOOKING HIGH AND LOW. MEET ME AT THE CAFÉ AT 7PM TOMORROW AND YOU CAN GIVE IT BACK TO ME.

  I try not to get excited, and fail abysmally as my heart decides to work harder in my chest. He wants to see me again. Tomorrow night. Should I? Is he just going to be another disaster? I breathe out and then drag air in deep. What’d be the harm in replying?

  ME: OH, I’LL GIVE IT TO YOU ALRIGHT. I WOULD HATE TO BE ACCUSED OF STEALING.

  He replies, almost immediately.

  SPENCER: I THINK YOU STOLE MY HEART

  Really? Cheesy much? I didn’t think he was that kind of guy. I madly type a response.

  ME: IF YOU PROMISE NOT TO BE SO CHEESY, I’LL MEET YOU, AND HOPE TO HELL YOU DON’T PRESS CHARGES.

  SPENCER: SURE. UNTIL THEN FEEL FREE TO USE IT.