by Hayes, Lane
“Who?”
Geordie smacked my hand when I reached for another piece of cheese. “You.”
I shook my hand dramatically and scowled.
“Are you high? He’s straight,” I hissed.
“Hmm. Are you sure?”
“Yes! Geez, it’s obvious.”
“Spoken like a true numbskull,” Geordie snorted derisively. “Ryan, I adore you, but you have a terrible habit of seeing only what you want to see. I’m not suggesting Danny is ready to get your name tattooed on his ass, but…he can’t take his eyes off you. Lauren’s staring at Danny, Danny is staring at you, and you’re”—he paused to pinch me when I gave him a dubious sideways look—“oblivious. Don’t you think he’s adorable?”
“He’s not a puppy, Geordie,” I scoffed.
“No, he’s a sexy man. And he has a crush on you,” he whispered theatrically.
I chuckled lightly. “I don’t think so. He just told me he wanted us to be buddies.”
“See?” He flashed a shit-eating grin at me then lifted his wineglass and took a sip.
“Buddy is another word for friend. Thanks for the ego boost, though. I needed it,” I commented, raising my glass in a toast.
Geordie cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Did this ‘buddy’ chat happen on the way here?”
“Yeah and—”
“I knew it! God, I’m good,” he exclaimed loudly.
I winced when a few heads turned our way. “Shh! Are trying to set me up with—just don’t. He’s not gay and I’m—”
“Whatever you say.” His dubious tone bugged me, but I knew better than to argue with Geordie. He was relentless. “If I was right…would you be interested?”
I huffed impatiently as I set my glass on the island. “Geordie…”
“What? It’s a fair question. Do you think he’s handsome?”
“Do you?”
“Hell, yes!” He fanned his face with his hand and let out a swoony sigh. “He’s too young for me, but he’s perfect for you.”
“Actually no, he’s not perfect for me. He’s egotistical, obnoxious, and the flirty jock thing may be Lauren’s thing, but it isn’t mine. Thanks, but no thanks. Don’t start something that will just make us all uncomfortable.”
“Hmm. You think I’m wrong but I bet—” Geordie paused to snap his fingers theatrically. “That’s it! Let’s place a bet. If he asks you out or puts a move on you, you owe me fifty bucks. Deal?”
“Sounds like an easy fifty to me, so sure.” I held out my hand but then pulled it away at the last second. “Let’s make this more interesting. I’ll give you fifty if you agree to go out with me.”
“Ohh, I didn’t know you were in love with me.” He preened, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically.
“Ha. Ha. I meant out…like to a bar. We can go to San Francisco and check out the Castro.”
He withdrew his hand and shook his head sadly. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”
“Geordie, it’s been two years.” My voice was gentle. This was a sensitive topic I wouldn’t have dared to broach until recently. But he seemed stronger now than he had in a while. It wasn’t my business, but Geordie wasn’t just my boss, he was my friend. “Mike wouldn’t want you to be alone.”
“Ryan…”
“I’d apologize, but you know it’s true. You’re too full of life. You don’t want to waste all your good juju on the married winos in the tasting room who make passes at you when their wives aren’t looking, do you?”
“Well, no but—”
“I’m not talking about sex.” I paused when he said something nasty to me in Spanish and then made a discreet sign of the cross. “Just an outing.”
“So we’d have two bets going at once. You’ll pay me fifty when Ryan makes a move on you and another fifty if I go to a bar with you. Correct?”
I offered him my hand to seal the deal. “Close enough.”
Geordie ignored my hand and pushed his wineglass at me instead. “Fabulous. Then do me a favor and refresh my Pinot. To the top, darling. Don’t be stingy.”
I rolled my eyes then turned toward the bar area set up outside on the terrace. And immediately ran into Danny. I frowned and glanced back into the kitchen, wondering if Geordie somehow set this up.
“How’d you get out here so fast? I thought I saw you inside a second ago.”
“Keeping tabs on me? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I’m on a refill mission.” I held up the empty glasses in my hand in case he needed proof. “Excuse me.”
“Ah. That’s important. Hey, be ready at nine a.m. tomorrow. We can use the courts at your condo complex. I’ll bring an extra racket and balls. You bring you.” Danny grinned before stepping aside to let me pass.
“Wait a sec. How do you know where I live?”
“I followed you home, memorized your license plate number, wire-tapped your place—nice boxer briefs, by the way—and rummaged through your trash. I’m gonna recommend you eat less Nutella. Too much of a good thing can end up being bad for you.”
He pursed his lips and held my stare. The intensity was overwhelming and so was he. Yeah, I figured he was messing with me, but the fact he got even a few things correct was disconcerting.
“How do you—”
Danny threw his head back and guffawed. The hearty sound rang through the terrace, garnering a few curious glances our way. “Dude, I was kidding. But…I do know where you live. See you on the court. And Ry?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be late.” He winked before turning on his heel and heading inside.
I watched him through the open doorway. The contrast of standing in the dark while peering into the well-lit house made me feel like a voyeur. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. Straight or gay or whatever he was, Danny was fucking hot. And when a sexy man who moved like a panther casually brought up your underwear preference…it did things to a guy. It made me want to do things to him too.
Chapter 2
Loud, incessant banging woke me up the next morning. I didn’t stop to look at the time or check my cell for messages. I flung back my covers, climbed out of bed, and made my way down the hall toward the source of the noise in a groggy haze. I peeked through the peephole and blinked twice before flinging the door open.
“So I was right about the boxers.” Danny leaned lazily against the doorjamb and gave me a thorough once-over before handing me a to-go cup. “Here. I thought you might need this.”
“Uh…thanks.”
“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked with a roguish smile. Actually, it was probably a regular smile. But my sleep-soaked brain was determined to turn this into a dream because let’s get real, a sexy guy standing on your doorstep with coffee was fantasy material any day of the week.
“Sorry.” I gestured for him to enter then closed the door behind him and glanced at my watch. “It’s eight thirty. Why are you here? You said nine o’clock. Didn’t you?”
Danny nodded. “Yeah, but I was awake, and I know it takes you a while to get going in the morning, so I stopped for coffee. Then I realized it would just go cold if I waited for you to show up on the court so…here I am. Your personal alarm clock.”
“Well, thanks. You must really want to play tennis.”
“I do. So let’s roll! Go on, get dressed. Your boxers are hot, but we don’t want all the girls drooling, so put some clothes on.”
“I need a minute. I’m not awake yet.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes then flopped onto one of the chairs at the small dining table just off my kitchen.
My condo was a tiny two-bedroom with high ceilings that made my place feel more spacious than it was. In fact, from my current vantage point, I could see everything except the master bedroom. A galley-style open kitchen with a peninsula and two barstools was situated to my right. The big-screen television over the fireplace in the adjacent living area could be seen easily from anywhere. Hell, I could even see into the guest room from here.
; I’d decorated my place in shades of dark blue: navy sofa, indigo print rugs, and denim pillows everywhere. The walls, however, were white, the perfect backdrop to my tastefully framed Batman lithographs. I wasn’t surprised Danny gravitated to the biggest one next to my giant denim beanbag chair.
“This is cool. So you’re a Batman fan. I’m kinda surprised. I thought your place would be filled with landscapes of vineyards and grape pictures.”
I chuckled. “I spend every day with grapes. I don’t need to live with them too.”
“You’d rather live with Batman,” he finished with a grin before joining me at the table.
“Wouldn’t you?” I asked automatically.
“Hell, yeah.” He set his cup down and pointed at my T-shirt before I had a chance to delve into his Batman commentary. “That T-shirt has more holes than fabric. What band is that?”
I looked down. “Death Cab for Cutie. It’s an oldie but a goodie. Why are you looking at me like that? And before you tell me my hair is sticking up…don’t. I’m still sleeping.”
Danny smiled, unfazed. “It’s funny how a random trip to someone’s house reveals parts of them you would never have guessed. Like a fetish for caped superheroes and indie bands. You’re a surprise, Ry.”
“I thought you already knew all about me,” I teased.
“Obviously that’s not true.”
“Hmm. The coffee is beginning to work its magic. How did you get my address? I didn’t give it to you, which almost makes me think you really are monitoring my Nutella intake or something else equally random and weird.”
“I asked Geordie.”
“That sneaky little…ugh. I can’t believe he’d try to—”
“Try to what?” Danny prodded.
“Nothing. Um…I need a few minutes to get ready,” I said. I didn’t bother moving. I still felt sluggish and half-asleep. I needed more caffeine before I could even think about swinging a racket.
“Take your time. The courts are empty. We’re good. Sit back, fuel up, and tell me about Batman, Nutella, and whatever else cranks your chain.” He snickered at my blank stare then added, “I’m just shootin’ the shit here, Ry. Just tell me about yourself. What came first…wine, music, or the Caped Crusader?”
“The Caped Crusader, of course,” I scoffed without heat. “I went through a strong Batman phase when I was a kid followed by my teenage music years. The wine phase came in college, but I still love all three. And Nutella.”
Danny let out an amused huff and sat back to observe me. God only knew what he saw. My curly hair had a tendency to do its own thing in the morning. No doubt it was wild. The stretched out, ancient concert tee, black boxer briefs, and bare feet screamed geeky bachelor louder than my superhero art.
“That’s cool. You know what you like and you stick with it. Seems like a good trait.”
“Thanks.” I studied him over the rim of my coffee cup then took a sip and set it on the table again. “What about you? What are you into besides wine and tennis?”
“Beer and football,” he quipped.
I lifted my brow inquisitively. “Honestly, that’s what I thought. You look like you’d be at home in a country bar guzzling brews with a bunch of beefy former jocks who hung up their shoulder pads for cowboy hats.”
“Damn, boy. You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” he asked irritably before reaching over to tug at my wayward curls. “Guzzle that there coffee, slick, and let’s get ourselves a court.”
The boxers with T-shirt combo surely did nothing to enhance my diva-esque moment but that couldn’t be helped, I mused as I rolled my eyes and stood. “I’ll be out shortly.”
Danny snickered in response. “Just hurry it up. If you aren’t out here in five minutes or less, I’m coming in there.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Ry.”
The low timbre of his voice sounded sexy as hell. Thankfully, my brain intervened before I made a fool of myself and offered him something he didn’t want. It was a close call. Closer than it should have been. Shit. I needed more coffee.
* * *
Competitive sports revealed character. Or so they said. Grit, determination, endurance, discipline, and strength of mind as well as body. I’d played soccer in high school, run track, and played on an intramural baseball team in college. Which only meant I’d been around enough athletes to know I wasn’t one. Don’t get me wrong, I could hold my own for a short time, but eventually my lack of skill gave way to a steady decline in grit, determination, endurance, etcetera. None of which boded well for my character. Especially when I wanted to bat my opponent over the head with my borrowed racket twenty minutes into what was supposed to be a simple warm-up rally.
“Swing low to high and bend those knees,” Danny instructed, bouncing on his toes on the baseline before running gracefully toward the net to hit a puff-ball shot at my feet.
I hadn’t played tennis in a while, but I had a decent volley and a killer lob. When my ground strokes broke down, they were my backup. I cast a dirty look at him then purposely lobbed it over his head. I paused to admire the bright yellow ball against the blue sky for a moment, which was probably why I didn’t notice Danny scampering like mad to get under the ball and send it careening at warp speed over the net right toward me. I hopped sideways to avoid getting beaned in the head then watched in fascination as the ball hit the green and catapulted a mile into the air.
I dropped my racket and put my hands on my hips. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re supposed to be having a friendly game here. In fact, we’re not even at the game part yet. This is the warm-up, asshole.”
Danny adjusted the brim of his white cap as he moved toward me. His smile grew with every step he took. By the time he reached the net, I’d forgotten why I was angry. Hell, I’d forgotten my name too. I’d never thought of tennis as a particularly sexy sport, but I changed my mind now. Danny was distracting as fuck in a snug red polo shirt and sexy white shorts that accentuated his perfect ass. But really, it was the shit-eating grin that did me in. It had the dual effect of pissing me off and making me want to jump the net and then jump him.
Thankfully I did neither. I stood my ground and glared at him through my Ray Bans. Danny pointed to the racket at my feet and shook his head in mock exasperation. Or maybe it was real. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“Hey, what’s with the temper tantrum? This is a gentleman’s sport. No cursing, no bad attitudes, and certainly no throwing rackets around. I’m appalled,” he said, though his tone indicated the opposite.
“I didn’t throw it, I dropped it.”
“On purpose.”
“Yes, on purpose! No one wants to play with a showoff. I get it. You’re better than me, but I don’t want a lesson. Can we just hit the ball like two normal human beings?”
Danny let out a put-upon sigh and shrugged. “Sure, but…can I give you a couple of pointers?”
My nostrils flared. “Only if I can give you one,” I grumbled, flipping him the bird.
He gasped then cast a horrified glance around the empty court. “Shocking. Were you born in a barn?”
“Close enough. Look, I—”
“Where were you born?”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“You heard me.” Danny balanced a tennis ball on his racket and bounced it up and down, up and down. He kept his gaze on the strings though I had a feeling he could have balanced that damn ball behind his back with his pinky finger if he wanted to.
“Stockton. You?”
“Denver. Brothers or sisters?”
“One of each.”
“Same.” He let the ball bounce on the court then picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. “I have an idea. Let’s start by warming up a few feet from the net then slowly back up. When we reach the baseline, we’ll play for real. Sound okay?”
“Sure, but we’re already warmed up. We should just do this.”
“Relax, hotshot. Take it
easy and…I don’t know, entertain me with your life story,” he suggested with a winning smile as he gently hit the ball over the net.
“Didn’t we do this last night with a football? Geez, I haven’t spent this much time with balls that weren’t mine in—oh.” I coughed and no doubt turned five shades of red. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize for spending time with your balls.”
“Okay.” I chuckled, charmed by his laid-back manner. “But you do the talking. Tell me about your life, Danny boy.”
He nodded his acquiescence with an eye roll then gestured for me to take a step back. And then he began to talk. And talk.
His conversation was light and breezy. He covered everything from growing up in Colorado to moving to California, highlighting his favorite parts of both. The gorgeous mountains and the weather in Denver, the beauty and diversity of San Francisco. He stuck to neutral topics as he controlled the action on the court, hitting the ball where I could reach it, which made it easier for me to do two things at the same time. I was on to him. He wanted my attention. Maybe more than he wanted to smack a tennis ball around. I wondered if he was lonely. He was a gregarious, smart, good-looking guy with a ton of energy and no one to play with except me. It wasn’t lost on me that he seemed to open up more when he had something to do with his hands…pour wine for customers, toss a football, play tennis. It could have been a quirk in his personality, but I was charmed.
I found myself analyzing his every move and cataloging his nuances. The sweat glistening on his forearms, the way he constantly adjusted his cap, the sound his sneakers made on the court, and the way his muscles bunched and tensed as he made contact with the ball. Danny was one sexy man and the more he talked, the harder it was to claim immunity. Especially when I asked about tennis. His smile widened and this golden boy with the cocky gait and knowing gaze became a god.
No exaggeration. He dazzled me. I hung on his every word as he told me he’d practically grown up on a tennis court. Everyone in his family played and was a rabid fan of the sport. However, he was the most talented or as he put it, “I’m the best.”