Lucky Ball

by Lisa N. Paul

  “No way. Don’t you remember the last time I attempted to talk to a guy I thought was looking at me? Nope, I’m not going through that again.”

  “Sweetie, it was a common mistake, and it was ages ago.” Emmy’s eyes held as much sympathy as her voice.

  “You weren’t there. I’d left the ball in my locker at work, so I acted on gut instinct.” Old embarrassment sent a shiver up Wren’s spine. “You can’t possibly imagine how horrible it was to realize that the handsome guy at the other end of the bar, who nearly set my panties on fire with a grin and a flirty wink, was flirting with the beautiful woman standing behind me. I nearly left skid marks on the floor in my haste to get to him when he waved.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you can’t possibly know. Mr. Hot Stuff didn’t even give me a glance when he bumped into me in his haste to get to the glamour girl who had actually caught his eye. It was awful, and not anything I’d like to repeat. Not ever.”

  A look passed over Emmy’s face that warned Wren a crazy idea wasn’t far behind. Three, two, one—

  “I have an idea. You just got finished saying you were buzzed and happy, right? Since I’m feeling the same, I think we should compromise. The guys over there are smoking hot, for real. I just got a sweet raise and it’s Friday night, so just this once, I’m fully behind you pulling out the dictator and asking for its permission.”

  What? It must be the alcohol, because Emmy Thomas hadn’t consulted the Fortune Eight Ball since the tenth grade. Even though she had always been tolerant of Wren’s dependency on the “plastic dictator,” lately, she’d been making comments about the way Wren allowed it to run her life.

  “Don’t make me regret this. Let’s go.” Emmy grabbed Wren’s hand and pulled her away from their stools.

  “Where are we going? The guys are back at the bar.”

  “Yes, they are. That’s why we’re going to the ladies’ room. No way in hell we’re gonna use the damn dictator in front of them. Now scoot in.” Once the stall door was closed and the lock clicked in place, Emmy’s perfectly sculpted brows arched. “Okay, shake that shit up. Ask it something good. Something out of your comfort zone, and remember, I’m by your side. Anything you do, I’ll do. Got it?”

  Wren’s bottom lip stung as her teeth pressed into the flesh. Something good, huh? With liquid courage pumping through her veins and the knowledge that her Eight Ball had proven to be quite the prude over the years, Wren asked a question that made even her best friend’s eyes protrude from her gorgeous skull. “Should I kiss Tall-Dark-and-Fuckable?”

  “Wait—”

  –It Is Certain–

  “Holy fuck, Wren.”

  The same sentiment rattled in Wren’s head, although the tone didn’t sound nearly as much like a teenage girl’s as Emmy’s.

  “Eeep! You’re gonna kiss a random guy at a bar. This is officially the greatest night ever.”

  Emmy may have been bouncing up and down with delight, but Wren’s belly rocked with nerves. “Shit, how did that happen? Let me re-ask. I’m sure it misunderstood—”

  “No way, sister.” Emmy gloated as she plucked the ball from Wren’s hand. “For eight years that thing has been your gospel. Now that you’re leery of the answer, you’re gonna question it? No flipping way. Let’s go.”

  The question didn’t need to be asked when the answer was as clear as the nose on her face, but… “W-where are we going?”

  “To kiss some cuties.”

  *

  “What the hell? Were they magic?”

  “Smith, order your drink.”

  “Seriously, did they evaporate?”

  Logan chuckled, ordered another round of beers and a couple of shots, and waited for the waitress to leave the table. Watching his friend scan the bar like a bloodhound was entertaining, even comical. It certainly wasn’t common practice. “No, man, I saw them make their way toward the bathrooms when the waitress came over to take your order.”

  Unlike Smith, Logan hadn’t been able to drag his eyes from the petite woman who’d claimed his attention since he’d seen her moving on the dance floor. Her dark hair hung in satin sheets down her back unless she swept it up in her fist. He’d noticed her do that several times while she was dancing, maybe to allow the cool air to hit her long neck. While her body was slender, she had curves in places that would bring men to their knees. Even dressed in a simple red tank and dark wash jeans, she was the sexiest woman he’d seen in far too long. He may not be a full-blown sex lord like Smith, but he’d never had issues getting women. The difference between him and his friend was that Logan didn’t need a different woman each night. Logan wanted more than a pretty face and a willing body, but work kept him busy. He didn’t have the time to search, nor had he met anyone worth the effort of trying.

  Just as the fresh drinks hit their table, the brunette and the blonde reappeared. Two sets of smiling eyes focused on Logan and Smith.

  “Dude, do you see them?” Smith questioned, as if he was the only one who could see the women approaching their table with looks of determination on their beautiful faces. “They’re coming over… niiice.”

  Before Logan could respond, lush lips pressed over his as all sound faded away. The taste of grape candy and soft woman invaded his senses. His initial surprise quickly passed, kicking his body into gear as he cupped the beautiful stranger’s cheek and pulled her closer. His mouth moved over hers, teasing, tasting, devouring its softness. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but if she was part of it, he wanted more.

  His tongue slid across the seam of her sweet lips, seeking entrance, and when she parted them, he accepted the invitation and delved into her mouth. Caressing her tongue, he felt her warm breath and reveled in the way she melted against his body… until she stopped. As if the spell had broken, the woman stiffened under his touch and slowly pulled away. Fuck, what just happened?

  “I’m sorry. That was completely rude of me.”

  Wait, she was apologizing?

  She turned to her friend, who was still kissing Smith. Her friend didn’t seem sorry at all. “Emmy, stop mauling the nice guy. I’m sure he’s had enough.”

  No way in hell had Smith had enough of what Emmy was giving.

  “Emmy,” the brunette called again. This time, enough steel lined her tone to bring an end to the kiss between her friend and Smith.

  “Sorry, Wren, I uh…” Emmy looked at Smith with a heated gaze that was no doubt mutual. “I think we may have gotten stuck.”

  “How ‘bout I show you ten more ways to get stuck?” Smith grinned.

  “Hmm, nah, I think once was good enough. But you can buy me a drink.” Emmy winked, putting distance between her and Smith.

  Logan wasn’t sure what was funnier: Emmy’s rejection or Smith’s face. Either way, after Logan chuckled, his attention returned to Wren.

  Wide-eyed, pink-cheeked Wren. The woman who’d kissed him as though her life depended on it then apologized.

  “So, Wren, you kiss guys here often?” He knew the taunt was risky. The woman looked ready to bolt, but there was no way he’d let that happen.

  “Oh my God!” Her hands covered her face. “I am so sorry about that.”

  “You’re doing wonders for my ego, Wren.”

  Peeking through her fingers, she murmured, “I’m thinking your ego doesn’t need any help.”

  “Wow!” Logan placed his hand over his heart. “First you physically assaulted me, and now you’re insulting me. Jeez what’s next?”

  “Oh my God.” Her eyes closed, humiliation written on her face. “I am so sor—”

  “Will you stop?” A smile pulled at his lips. This woman was just as innocent as she was sexy. The combination wasn’t just an anomaly—it was an aphrodisiac. “I’m just joking. While I’d like to believe that kiss wasn’t your standard pick-up line, I’m certainly not complaining that you used it on me.”

  “I can assure you I’ve never done that before in my life.”

  The way he
r fingertip moved over her plush bottom lip made her words ring true. Not that he’d doubted them. Sure, the kiss was hot as fuck, but it had been flooded with passion, not experience.

  “I believe you. How about if we start over?” He extended his hand. “I’m Logan Enders.”

  “Wren Jamison,” she responded, her soft skin returning a confident handshake.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Umm…” Her gaze lowered to the floor.

  “She’d love a drink,” Emmy chimed in. Logan had forgotten she and Smith were even around. “She doesn’t get out much.”

  “Em—” Wren’s tone sounded like a warning, but her friend either didn’t hear it or chose not to heed it.

  “But we are dancing queens tonight, and we’re both drinking Grape Ring Pops.” Emmy batted her lashes at Smith. “Would you mind grabbing us another round?”

  Logan’s buddy would normally give a lady cash and a charming smile and tell her to go to the bar and get whatever she wanted, but this time he winked at Emmy and headed toward the bar. “Come on, man. Let’s grab these ladies some drinks.”

  What in the hell is going on?

  “You and me on the dance floor,” Logan said before he placed a gentle kiss on her flushed cheek. “We’ll be right back.”

  *

  “What the hell are you doing, Em?”

  “I’ve never seen you look so comfortable out of your comfort zone, Wrenny. That kiss you guys had nearly set fire to this place, and you were about to turn down a drink. Are you nuts?”

  “How would you know anything about my kiss? You were crazy-glued to Conan’s face.”

  Emmy ran her fingers through her golden hair, sweeping it from one side of her head to the other. “My talents are limitless, Wren. Limitless. I may have been sucking face with the god of kissing, but I had my eye on you. Trust me.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s comforting or creepy. Regardless, you told that guy that you weren’t interested in kissing him again.”

  “Oh, sweetie”—Emmy shook her head—“you’ve spent so much time locked up in your underwear tower that you have no idea how to play this game. Guys like Smith—”

  “Who?”

  “Conan’s name is Smith. Anyway, guys like him need a challenge. Otherwise they move on to the next girl faster than you can say orgasm.”

  “Ahh, so instead of being open and honest, you play games.” Wren arched her brow. “Got it.”

  Emmy patted the sphere shape protruding from Wren’s purse. “You have your way of doing things. I have mine.”

  The gesture reminded Wren that she had some questions that needed answers before the guys returned from the bar. “I’m running to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  Quickly weaving through bodies, she found herself back in the ladies’ room. After using the toilet and washing her hands, she whipped out the black ball and spouted as many questions as she could. Should she have drinks with Logan? Should she dance with him? Even kiss him again? For each question, the ball gave her various answers of yes. Wow, ball, you’re in a great mood tonight.

  Excitement thrummed through Wren as she made her way back to the table and the ridiculously sexy man who waited for her. Never before had she felt so free. It would be a late night, but the exhaustion she was sure to feel in the morning would be so damn worth it.

  Chapter Four

  You’ll Have No Regrets

  Ughh, so not worth it. Wren washed down two more ibuprofen with another large swig of coffee. The hours were crawling by, and all of the machines must have been upgraded overnight to louder versions. Sure, everything looked exactly the same, but even the toilet paper rollers seemed squeakier than they had before. She reached into her locker to grab her purse when the smell of cheap cologne permeated her already fragile senses.

  “Sorry about the shortened break, Wren.” Dave’s apology sounded just as shallow as the man himself. “At least it’s fifteen minutes instead of ten.”

  Grr, what a prince!

  “That said, when you go back to the line, I need your head in the game.” The way his mud-colored eyes studied her body made the already unsettled feeling in Wren’s stomach worse. “Your obvious lapse of judgment last night doesn’t mean our product suffers today.”

  Dave’s condescending tone made the ache in Wren’s head worse, or maybe it was because she clenched her jaw tighter with each word that came out of his smarmy mouth.

  “When I’m on the floor, I expect perfection from my staff. Just in case you forgot, while in this building, you are under me. Now take your fifteen minutes and get back to your position.”

  Under him? In his dreams! Slamming the locker door would have felt so much better if it hadn’t rattled her hung-over brain. Wren powered on her cell phone and called Emmy as she left the building for her break.

  “I can’t believe that douchebag still has a job. Why don’t you talk to your bosses? They love you,” Emmy said.

  “I will, I promise. As soon as the time is right.”

  For nearly two years, Emmy had been suggesting Wren go to the owners about Dave’s misuse of power, and for two years, Wren had been putting it off. The Fortune Eight Ball kept telling her to ask again later or the outlook wasn’t good, so Wren had been sitting tight, believing that when the time was right, she’d finally talk to her bosses.

  “I know you didn’t call to talk about Dave the douche.” It was clear from Emmy’s sigh she knew exactly where the conversation was headed.

  “You’re right. Instead, why don’t we talk about how you broke your promise last night?” Wren couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice even though she knew it wasn’t rational.

  “Are you kidding? You’re actually upset about that?”

  “Em, you gave Smith your phone number after promising me that you would do whatever I did. ‘I’m by your side. Anything you do, I do.’ Do you remember saying that?”

  “Yes, I remember quite clearly what I said, and I held up my end of the deal. Just like you, I kissed the guy. I danced with the guy. I laughed and chatted and had a great time. All of the things you did, I did as well. We had a great time. Don’t you dare try to deny it.”

  Visions of the evening replayed like a slide show, and her friend was spot-on. From the minute her lips touched Logan’s, the night went from fun to fantastic. Until…

  Emmy inhaled. Even through the phone, Wren felt her friend’s attempt to rein in her frustration. She really was the best, most patient friend any girl could have.

  “Sheer happiness,” Emmy said.

  “What?”

  “Sheer happiness. That’s what I saw all over your face last night. Logan made you smile and laugh, and you had the same effect on him. But that all went away after he asked for your phone number.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” she hedged. The statement rang false in her own ears.

  The fact was, when Logan had asked for her number, excitement zinged through Wren’s body. It had been so long since she’d met someone who had sparked her attention. If she was being honest, it had been too long since she’d been interested in dating at all. Logan was like finding a box of Lucky Charms filled with only marshmallows—yummy perfection. Therefore, making a quick trip to the restroom felt like a mere technicality. After all, the ball had doled out only positive answers all night, and everything was going perfectly. Once she got approval to give her phone number to the one guy who got her laughing and melting, the night would be a perfect success.

  “Yes, it is true,” Emmy snapped. “Don’t pretend like I don’t know you, Wren Jamison. I know damn well that you went to the ladies’ room to ask the dictator for permission to give Logan your phone number. Even though you really wanted to. Even though he seemed like a perfectly nice guy. The damn ball said no, so you did too!”

  It didn’t matter that Emmy was spot-on with her analysis, heat still seethed in Wren’s veins. “Yes, he seemed like a nice guy, but who knows? Maybe he was an asshole. It doe
sn’t matter, Em. I’m not asking for your approval. I don’t need it. I know I rely on the Fortune Ball a little too much in my everyday life. I get it. It’s inconvenient not just for me but for those around me. I hear people snort and make rude comments about me. I’m not stupid, Emmaline.”

  “Sweetie—”

  “No, don’t sweetie me. Listen, that thing that happened? The thing we never discuss?” Wren’s throat tightened as she forced out the words. “That night… it lives in my mind. I know it was ages ago and we were kids, but I made a bad choice. I’ve made lots of bad choices since. The ball doesn’t. I trust it. I know it sounds crazy, but I do.” As a lone tear escaped her, Wren was relieved no one was outside to witness her breakdown. “When it comes to guys, I still trust it more than I trust myself.”

  “Fine, I hear you loud and clear. I completely disagree with you and think you’re letting a piece of plastic ruin your life, but that’s on you.” The hitch in Emmy’s voice warned Wren that a point was about to be made, but with her head spinning, she had no clue where Emmy’s aim would go. “My question is, why in the hell are you ticked at me for giving Smith my phone number?”

  The conversation had come full circle, and the question coming from Emmy’s mouth was met with silence. The fact was, Wren had been angry, not just the night before but at the beginning of the call, and after everything she’d just spewed, she knew in her gut that she had zero reasons for her acrimony.

  “You just said it yourself, Wren—you choose to let the dictator run your life. You trust it more than you trust yourself. And that’s on you. Last night, I was by your side. I never let you down, and you know it. But I live my life according to my rules. Sometimes I make bad choices, and sometimes I don’t. Either way, I own them. Smith and I had a great time together, and when he asked for my number, there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to give it to him. Whether or not he calls is his choice to make.”

  When quiet filled the line, Wren knew Emmy was processing all the things she’d just said, making certain she hadn’t been too hurtful or unkind. Emmy let very few people get close to her, and those she let into her heart were important to her. She was truthful with them, but careful about the things she said and the way she said them.