Slade had been having breakfast at EE’s, the diner across the street, and afterward his feet, of their own volition, had carried him to the Om Spot, where he knew Jessica practiced yoga every morning.
The stubborn woman apparently didn’t want him, or so she thought. But Slade had been relentless. He’d showed up at her house, and she would make an excuse about having to leave. When she was at work, she would try to avoid him.
Yesterday things had changed, though. He’d walked into EE’s and had heard Jessica’s laugh before seeing her. She had been sitting in a booth with the guy who had been her physical therapist—the same one Slade suspected had been hitting on Jess during her sessions. She had been so involved in whatever they had been talking about that she hadn’t even noticed Slade walk in. The man’s hand casually grazed her arm, and Slade, not one to get angry often, saw red. He had wanted to knock the guy’s teeth out. He was touching Slade’s woman! He stormed right back out.
It had all become clear to him at that moment. Jessica really didn’t want to date him anymore, and the “let’s be friends” stuff was her way of letting him down easy. He should have known better—he’d practically invented that line, and here he’d been groveling for the last week. Wasn’t karma just one big fat ol’ bitch!
That was the moment he stopped calling her. Granted, it had been only twenty-four hours, but still, he was resolute in his decision.
And as for watching her at the Om Spot, well, he’d done that while they had been dating too. Hell, even before they’d been dating, when she was with Dennis. But it’d just been because he’d happened to have breakfast across the street. Maybe he’d been having breakfast at the diner every day, but that didn’t have anything to do with watching her doing yoga. It was only because Esther made the best pancakes. Nothing to do with those deliciously tight yoga pants, or those enticing poses that reminded him of all the sexual positions he wanted to try out. And it was most definitely not because of that booty. Nope. It was Esther’s pancakes that had brought him all the way to the diner. Every single damn day. And her pancakes were the reason he was here today too.
“Nice ass,” a husky voice said from behind him, startling Slade. He turned around to see Travis, his head tilted as he followed the shifting globes through the window.
“What are you doing here, Texas?”
“Guess I could ask you the same thing, boss.”
“Stop staring. You look like a pervert.” Slade playfully smacked the back of Travis’s head.
“Look who’s talking, perv.” Travis’s eyes still had not left the window. “Bro, is that Jessica over there? She has the best ass of the lot.”
A low growl escaped Slade. That was his woman’s ass Travis was ogling. “I’m not staring. I was walking by on my way to the gym.”
“WtF’s over yonder, boss.” Travis pointed in the opposite direction.
“Shut up, Texas,” Slade hissed. “Come on. We got work to do. I’m going to start docking your pay, asshole.”
Travis merely laughed.
—
Jessica felt like someone was watching her—the small hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Bent over with her hair sweeping the floor, she peered through her open legs to see Slade staring at her ass. He was so focused on her derriere, he hadn’t bothered shifting his eyes half a foot down to her face. She wished she’d worn a little lip gloss, maybe some mascara…Gah! What was wrong with her? Slade was off-limits. She needed to remember that.
For a week after she’d told him it wasn’t working out between them, he’d called her numerous times a day, though she wouldn’t allow herself to spend any time with him. But she missed him terribly. The man who’d been by her side for just a few short months had made a deep and real impact on her heart in that time.
She must’ve looked so miserable that yesterday her very handsome (and very gay) physical therapist had seen her at EE’s and taken it upon himself to join her for coffee. He made her laugh with his wry comments about local town gossip, and when she left the diner she felt a little better.
But yesterday Slade’s phone calls had just stopped. And though she knew she was doing her best to protect him, she wasn’t sure if her heart could handle the cost.
—
It had been a long day at WtF Academy, and Slade had jumped off his bike outside his house when Chrissy stopped him.
“Have to get ready for a date,” he told her. “What’s up?”
“With Jessica?”
Slade took a deep breath and then blew it out. It was now two weeks since Jessica had broken up with him, and one week since he’d spoken to her. “No, Chris. Not with Jess.”
“Why? I don’t understand. I just don’t get it.”
Slade ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand either. But screw it. I’m not holding out forever. I called her more times than I want to think about, and then I saw her on a date last week. At this point, I’m pathetic. She doesn’t want to date me.”
“No way.” She paused to think about it and then repeated, “No way, Slay.”
“Chris, I appreciate your concern, but I’m done talking about this. She’s not interested. She dumped me. In fact, I think she’s seeing her physical therapist.”
Just then Jack walked over to them, Drogo by his side. The dog began to snarl as soon as he was close to Slade. “Who’s not interested?” Jack asked.
Slade rolled his eyes. “Guys, I’m not—”
“Jessica. He says she’s not interested in him, but she is. I know it. Those weeks she lived here with Slade while she was recovering, she talked about him all the time when I’d come over. And then when they finally got together, they were both so cute. I’d never seen my brother so happy. Those two were inseparable for months.”
“I don’t need a play-by-play,” Slade cut in. “She said she couldn’t handle all the women I’ve been with. I told her they don’t mean anything and she should just get over it, because I wasn’t with anyone else.”
Chrissy groaned and punched his shoulder. “No woman wants to see her boyfriend with other women or think of him with other women. And she especially doesn’t like it when the exes come up to you while you’re on a date with her. You’re so clueless, Slade!” She let out a breath. “And you told her to just ‘get over it’?” She shook her head.
“I wasn’t cheating on her,” Slade repeated. “It’s not my fault those women keep hounding me.”
“It still makes you look like an ass,” Jack said.
“A slutty ass,” Chrissy added. “Look, Slay, don’t give up. Trust me. Everything worth anything is worth fighting for.” She looked up at Jack, who looked down at her and smiled.
Slade rolled his eyes—their sweetness was starting to get on his nerves. “Well, I’m not going to sit and wait forever. I have a date tonight.”
“No,” Chrissy insisted. “Call Jessica. Fix it.”
“Looks like the Tarpon Springs slut finally got rejected,” Jack said with a teasing grin. “And now look at you all sad.”
“Fuck off,” Slade said with a scowl.
“I’m just messing with you, brother. Rest up. I’m sure you’ll be over Jessica as soon as you’re under whomever you’re going out with tonight,” Jack said. Then he let out a surprised “oof” as Chrissy elbowed him in the ribs.
Slade shook his head. “I’m done with this conversation. Have a good evening, guys.”
Annoying as Jack was, Slade thought as he walked away, he was right. As soon as he moved on, he’d forget about Jessica. And moving on meant meeting another woman. Tara was on the menu tonight. And if anyone could help get his head out of his ass, it was a sexy blonde.
—
Jessica hated first dates. Loathed them. She hadn’t gone on a first date in over five years. She’d never actually been on a first date with Slade—they’d just fallen into a relationship because of the circumstances. But here she was, going on another first date.
She was supposed to meet Jeffre
y at the restaurant in a half hour, but she was still standing in her small walk-in closet with a towel wrapped around her body and her long chestnut hair dripping down her back. Maybe she should just cancel.
No, Jessica. Time to put on your big-girl panties! she growled at herself, and began rummaging through her closet.
She had met Jeffrey one morning when she was having breakfast at the diner. He wore adorable black-rimmed glasses and had looked almost scared to approach her. It was endearing. His mother, Esther, who owned EE’s with her husband, had given him the push he needed by introducing him to Jessica and telling her he was an accountant at a small investment firm. When he invited her out, she was about to politely decline, but then realized that it was important for Dennis to see that she wasn’t with Slade anymore. And so she said yes. Plus once she was back in Charlotte she’d need to rebuild her life, and dating would undoubtedly be involved in that. If she was going to start dating again, she thought, she needed training wheels, and Jeffrey Fryer was the training wheels.
Jessica picked one of her four little black dresses. Two were more for a nightclub scenario, and one was more suitable for a more formal affair, but the one she held in her hand was perfect for the restaurant he had chosen. She paired the dress with red stilettos. She loved high heels but wasn’t skilled at walking in them—she spent most of her days in sneakers. But one of the first things she’d noticed about Jeffrey was that he was tall; therefore, she could pull off the stilettos. And anyway, men loved high heels, right? She dried her hair, then flipped her head over, fluffed, and whipped it back. She applied light makeup, looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, grabbed her keys, and walked out.
—
What the fuck had he been thinking, letting Jessica lead him around by his dick for months? He must have really been hit in the head hard during his last underground MMA fight, because that was not his usual MO. Not for Jessica, not for any woman.
Tara had been flirting with him for months. She worked in the shop where he bought a lot of the equipment for the fighters he trained at WtF Academy—his gym. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he had finally achieved his dream of owning a gym.
Yesterday as he was picking up some wrapping tape that went under the fighters’ gloves, she’d sashayed over to him to help him figure out which tape to purchase. There was only one kind. She’d twirled a lock of blond hair around one of her fingers while the other hand gently touched his forearm as she went on and on about the tape as if she were talking about splitting atoms rather than tape. Her black T-shirt showcased her big tits beautifully. And if there was one thing Slade couldn’t resist, it was perfect tits. After all, everyone knew he was a breast man. Jessica’s ass had been just a momentary lapse in judgment.
“Tara, is it?” He brushed her name tag with a finger, purposely having slight contact with those magnificent tits. She didn’t shy away. In fact, he could’ve sworn she moved a little closer to him.
“Yep. Tara.”
“Tara, I’m Slade.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I’ve seen you fight.”
“Oh, really? I hope I won.”
“Don’t you always?” she shot back, eyelashes fluttering, her finger still twirling her blond hair—textbook flirting.
“So, Tara. You know what I think?” He leaned closer.
Right on cue, she giggled. “What?”
“You and I need to have dinner together tomorrow night.”
“I’d love to.” Continuing to work through all the items from the Vapid Girls’ Flirting Handbook, she reached over and sensually wrapped her hand around his wrist, drawing his hand toward her. Then she took a pen from the counter behind her and wrote her number on his palm.
“Call me,” she had said with a wink.
That evening he had texted her that he’d pick her up at seven the following day, and she’d immediately replied with “Okie dokie” followed by some happy-face emoticons. She was exactly what he needed. Simple fun. No baggage. No complications. No drama.
So now here he was. As soon as his bike came to a stop, she opened the front door and practically skipped toward him. She wore a tight canary-yellow dress, very short, with sky-high heels. He wasn’t sure how she made it to his bike without falling, her shoes were so high. He’d never understood how women could walk wearing those kinds of shoes, but they did…she did.
“Oh, you came on your bike.” She kept her smile, but it looked fake, albeit well practiced. He’d been inconsiderate, again; women didn’t want to go on a date on a motorcycle—the dress, the shoes, the closeness. Jessica had told him this before, and with Jessica he’d always been considerate, taking into account when the bike would be appropriate and when it wouldn’t. But now with Jessica gone, it hadn’t even occurred to him not to come on his bike. “Yippee. I love motorcycles,” she said. Well, maybe this particular woman was fine with the bike, he thought. Or at least she was pretending to be.
Before he had a chance to say anything, she swung her leg over, giving him an unintentional (okay, probably intentional) glimpse of her silky thong.
“Ready,” she squealed. But her hands shook slightly as she wrapped her arms around his body. Clearly, this was all some sort of show to demonstrate what a cool chick she was. That was fine by him, because today was about simple. If she wanted to play that game, he’d play right along with her. He pushed on the starter with his black boot. The bike roared to life, and he throttled up while she yelped behind him.
When they arrived at the steakhouse, she squealed again: “Oh, I love this place.” He parked, helped her off, and they sauntered toward the entrance, her hand hooked around his forearm. But when they reached the door and she saw her reflection, she yelped again.
“My hair!” She looked heartbroken.
“It’s fine, Tara.” He reached up and ran his fingers through it. “Just a little helmet hair. You look beautiful.” As if his words meant the world to her, she smiled a big bright smile and stopped fussing with her hair. He held the door open for her, and they walked in.
—
Jessica arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late. When she walked in and looked around, two men stood up. Jeffrey gave her a nervous smile and a wave. Two tables to his left, a huge man in a tight-fitting black button-down shirt looked directly at her. It was Slade. The two men walked toward her at the same time.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit,” the restaurant hostess muttered.
Jessica whipped her head to the side. The hostess’s mouth was hanging open.
“Pick the tall one,” the hostess whispered before she left to tend to another patron.
—
Blah blah blah blah blah…that was all Slade had heard for the last twenty minute as Tara sipped her Cosmopolitan. Slade was about to order his second whiskey when the door to the restaurant opened and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. He turned, almost involuntarily, and the first thing he saw was a pair of hot legs. He followed the long toned legs up to a small, fit body encased in a short black dress. Then he noticed her face.
What the hell is Jessica doing here?
He reflexively stood, completely unaware of Tara, and made his way to her. It was as if his body was moving of its own accord, without his permission.
As he got closer to her, he noticed that her face had paled and she was fidgeting. He also felt the presence of someone to his left. He turned his head and noticed a man wearing black-framed glasses staring at his woman. He looked back at Jessica, who was glancing back and forth between him and the other man. Suddenly it hit him: She was on a date.
What the fuck?
Both men reached Jessica at the same time: Slade hyperaware of the situation, and the other guy completely oblivious.
“Jessica. You look…wow. Just…wow,” the man said as he reached for Jessica’s hand.
Just as Jessica reached out her hand to her date, her eyes went to Slade. With that momentary lapse of attention, she caught her heel on the ca
rpet and went pitching forward.
Slade, who had been deliberating whether to go back to his date, punch the other guy, or grip Jessica by her shoulders and shake her, instead was left with no choice but to catch her before she fell.
Her hands gripped his arms tightly and her eyes widened to meet his gaze. He could see her swallow and feel her breath catch. He helped her straighten up. Not a word was exchanged. The electricity between them was enough.
“Thank you, sir,” the other man said to Slade. He reached for Jessica’s hand. “Are you okay, Jessica?”
Jessica looked over at Slade. She opened her mouth, tried to say something, and then shut it again.
“Jess?” Slade spoke.
For the first time, the oblivious guy looked to his right at Slade. Then he looked back at Jessica. “Oh. You two know each other?”
“Uh…,” Jessica croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Uh…yeah. Yes.” She shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. “Yes. Jeffrey, this is Slade. Slade, this is Jeffrey.” Slade was still holding one of her hands, and now Jeffrey held the other. It was beyond awkward, especially since Slade’s eyes never left hers.
“I think I know you,” the guy said, trying to be friendly. “You come into my parents’ diner. You’re Chrissy’s brother.”
“Yeah. That’s me.” His eyes were still locked on Jessica. It was a small town, and he knew who Jeffrey was. He’d seen him around. His mother was always trying to set him up on dates.
“Thank you for helping my girl here,” Jeffrey went on. “She could’ve really hurt herself.”
When Jeffrey said “my girl,” Slade’s grip around Jessica’s arm tightened. Her eyes widened even more.
At last Slade released her. “No problem, man,” he told Jeffrey. “Hold on tight to this one. Your girl here, she’s slippery.” His eyes burned a hole in her, and his nostrils flared. Then Slade turned and walked back to Tara.
Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) Page 14