by Aly Martinez
“Holy shit, are you…” a woman asked, pulling my attention away from my mystery girl.
“Tanner,” I finished for her, purposely leaving off my last name.
She slapped a hand over her mouth and muttered, “Oh, wow.”
The man with thinning, brown hair, who I belatedly noticed was sopping wet, turned a murderous gaze my way. “Any chance you could take your hands off my wife, Tanner?”
Son of a bitch. Why did the hot one have to be his wife? I gave the mousey brunette with too much makeup a perusal. She was more his speed. Plain. Simple. Forgettable.
Nothing like my—er, his blonde.
I started to remove my arm from her shoulders. Porter would have hidden creepy dolls in my house again if I’d gotten into a brawl over a married woman whose name I didn’t know while he was busy trying to woo a doctor into treating Travis.
Shit. Porter.
“I need to go,” I rushed out. “Can you tell me where—”
“Your wife?” My blonde laughed loudly. “That’s a joke, right?”
Then my whole body locked up tight, causing me to rock back onto my heels. And not because of her sudden outburst, but rather because she’d caught my hand and guided it to rest on her ass.
Her tight, firm but supple, incredible ass.
I bit my lip and fought the urge to flex my fingers, drawing her sweet ass into my palm.
And then I lost that battle in spectacular fashion—groaning and everything—right in front of her fucking husband.
Christ, Porter was going to up his game to include clowns after this shit.
“I should go,” I mumbled without moving—and maybe, possibly, definitely giving her ass another squeeze.
Shit. She really had a great ass. I was still holding it and I already missed it.
“Tanner, honey,” my blonde said, her voice dripping with sugar—and poison. “This is Greg, my soon-to-be ex-husband, and his mistress, Tammy, who came all the way down here today to share the joyous news that she is expecting his child.” Her hand landed on my stomach, fisting the front of my shirt as she seethed, “Isn’t that so exciting?”
This explanation definitely shed light on why my blonde was seconds away from mounting me in the middle of a children’s carnival, but it only left me more confused.
“Wait, wait, wait. What?” I asked incredulous. “You cheated on my girl with her.” Little Miss Forgettable’s mouth fell open, so I quickly amended, “No offense, Tammy. I’m sure you’re a lovely woman, but man, Greg. What the hell were you thinking?”
His jaw went hard, ticking at the hinges. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“Actually, I think you’ve got that backward.” Holding his challenging stare, I gathered her tighter into my side. “From what I can tell, this doesn’t involve you anymore.”
My blonde peered up at me, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, a bright smile of appreciation softening her entire face—still not a fucking hint of recognition.
Yes. She was using me to make her ex jealous.
But she was using me, not celebrity Tanner Reese.
I shot her a wink that drew a blush. Fuck, that was cute.
She was hot, classy, and cute. Seriously, this Greg guy was a dumbass. Though I had every intention of capitalizing on his stupidity.
But, first, I had to help Porter.
“Listen, I need to get over there to cook the burgers, but—”
“You’re dating the burger guy?” Greg asked like a pretentious prick. “Are you kidding me?”
I barked a laugh. “Wow, you are going to feel like an idiot when you look me up later.” I paused, feeling a tad bit pretentious myself, but I didn’t give the first fuck.
Gorgeous soon-to-be ex-wife aside, knocking up your mistress was seriously bad form. There was no use hiding my identity. She’d find out eventually. And if it came with the added bonus of making Douchebag Greg feel like the dumbass he was, then I was all for it.
“It’s Tanner with two Ns, and Reese—R-E-E-S-E. Maybe you should write that down. You don’t seem to be the brightest bulb.” I tipped my chin to his new woman. “Again, no offense, Tammy.”
“A little taken,” she replied snottily.
I shrugged. “Meh. You were sleeping with a married man. You probably deserve it.”
My blonde giggled, and when I flashed her a teasing grin, she returned it, adding a warm squeeze of gratitude around my hips. Still, not a hint of recognition on her face as she peered up at me like I was her hero.
Me. Not Tanner Reese.
After my last—and somewhat current—dating fiasco with Shana Beckwit, I’d sworn off women. Okay, fine. That’s a lie. My mom and my attorney had made me swear off women for a while. And I’d made it, like, a solid eight weeks too. However, if this woman was newly single and back on the market, I wasn’t about to pass up the first shot.
After glancing up to make sure the bastard was still watching, I fit my arms into the soft curves above her hips. “You were right. I did miss you. I mean, after you did that thing with your tongue last night.” I closed my eyes and moaned to sell it. “Woman, that was something special.”
“You were…pretty incredible too,” she forced out, barely able to contain the humor.
“I was, wasn’t I? What was your favorite part?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I…enjoyed it all.”
I playfully rocked her from side to side. “No, come on. Be more specific or I won’t be able to repeat it tonight.” I smirked, quietly imagining all the very real and not-at-all made-up things I could do to her that would make her forget all about Douchebag Greg.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growled, but I never tore my gaze off her emerald eyes.
Seductively, she slid her hands up my arms, resting them on my pecs, her eyes heating even as her smile stretched. “Oh, honey, you can do whatever you’d like to me tonight. But don’t you need to grill those burgers first?”
Shit. Fuck. Damn. I did.
I blew out a ragged breath, willing my libido to slow its roll. For now, anyway.
After retrieving my phone from my pocket, I lifted it in her direction and announced, “So, I got a new phone today.”
She tilted her head to the side in question but took the phone. “Okay?”
“Because ya know…we’ve been going at it like rabbits for what, weeks—”
“Days,” she corrected.
I nodded. “Right. Days. Obviously, after that much sex, I would have your number. But silly me. I broke my phone and now need you to program your digits in so I can call you when I’m on my way at, say…eight. You know, so I can do all those horrible, filthy things to you tonight. Again, tonight…I mean. Because, you know, I already did them to you last night.” I swayed my head from side to side. “And probably the night before too. Maybe even the night before that. Shit, it’s been so good all the days are just blending together. ”
She grinned up at me, wide, sexy, and fully amused. “You mean they couldn’t back your new phone up using the cloud? How badly was it damaged?”
Fuck. Me. I didn’t even know her name yet, but this woman was going to end me. I had been rambling like a teenage boy about imaginary sex and she’d decided to give me shit.
She was hot, classy, cute…and a ballbuster.
I hadn’t even known I had a type until that moment.
“Well…” I drawled. “Funny enough, an alligator ate it.”
Her sculpted eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And that affects the cloud?”
“Well, yeah. Haven’t you seen the warnings on the news? Something about their stomach lining and terrorists. One gator could singlehandedly take down our entire cellular infrastructure.”
Her shoulders shook, but she managed to keep the laughter silent. “Gators and terrorists. That does sound scary.”
Unable to stop myself, I leaned down, brushed my nose with hers, and whispered, “Terrifying.”
Her smile faded, and her breath hitched.
But much to my elation, she arched her back, pressing her curves deeper into my front.
Oh, fuck yeah.
Greg.
Was.
An.
Idiot.
As if he’d heard me, he let out a frustrated groan. “All right, enough of this shit. Rita, we need to talk.”
Rita.
My blonde’s name was Rita.
Rita.
Rita.
Rita.
Oh, yeah. Lou Bega had definitely been onto something in “Mambo No. 5.”
“No. We really don’t need to talk,” she retorted, stepping out of my reach.
I hated the loss immediately, but when she handed me back my phone and prattled off ten numbers I couldn’t memorize fast enough, I got over it.
“Greg, you need to get your tail back over to the dunking booth,” she said, floating with the grace of a dream in heels to a chair behind Rainbow Bright’s table. “There’s a line forming.”
“I don’t give a damn about the dunking booth.” He took a long step toward her, one I immediately mirrored on instinct.
But Rita didn’t seem to be the least bit threatened. With a bored, poised elegance, she sank down as if she were assuming her throne and not sitting in a cold, chipping metal folding chair. “That’s funny because I don’t give a damn about you, Tammy, or your precious little love child. Go away. Both of you. Live your life, and leave me out of it. Tammy, he’s all yours.” Pressing a perfectly manicured hand to her chest, she looked the woman right in the eye as she said, “My condolences.”
I smiled, my chest filling with more pride than I’d known I could feel for a person I’d just met.
Getting cheated on was hard. Hell, I still resented Shelly from when I was in the eleventh grade. But I couldn’t imagine finding out your spouse had not only stepped out, but also created a child. And, despite the fact that she was using a fake relationship with me to torture him, she was doing it with such a classy, savage bitchiness that I couldn’t help but be impressed.
Okay, and maybe a little scared.
But mainly impressed…and turned on.
Greg hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Rita, I—”
“Go,” she clipped, shutting down all further conversations when a family walked up to the table.
Greg looked devastated as he watched her seamlessly slip into professional mode, smiling, welcoming, and explaining the ticketing system—all the while not paying him the first bit of attention.
Porter was going to kill me, but I waited until Greg had sulked away, Tammy hot on his heels, before leaving her. Rita was talking and laughing with the family, not giving me a chance to cut in to say goodbye.
It didn’t matter though.
I had her number.
And we had a date scheduled for later that night.
So, with a smile on my face, I headed toward the plume of smoke that did not bode well for my Wagyu burgers.
I spotted Porter at the grill just in time to see a woman with long, black hair racing away from him.
* * *
“You sure you don’t want a drink?” I asked Sidney while twirling the stem of a wine glass between my thumb and forefinger.
“Nah. I’m good. I have to drive home. Though I need you to keep drinking so I can properly ply you with alcohol until you spill all the sordid details of your hot new guy.”
I rolled my eyes.
Sidney Day had been my second best friend for years. I loved that woman, as did the majority of the male population. She was tall, dark, and bombshell even under her scrubs. But she was also happily married—if such a thing existed anymore—to an equally tall, dark, and gorgeous detective.
She was also Greg’s head nurse, his current biggest enemy, and my partner-in-wine when Charlotte wasn’t available. Which, it should be noted, was never—at least not voluntarily. However, Sidney was always up for an excuse to drink, eat cheese, and gossip. Which was why she’d shown up at my front door, holding two bottles of wine and the most elaborate charcuterie board I’d ever seen her make, demanding that I fill her in on my relationship with Atlanta’s most eligible bachelor—Tanner Reese.
“I already told you there are no sordid details. I didn’t even know who he was until after he walked away.”
Yeah. I was an idiot.
While I wasn’t exactly a fan of The Food Channel, I was—and always would be—a fan of beautiful, muscular men, and I made it my business as a woman to learn the names, faces, and abdominals of those included in that elite subsection of the population.
I’d seen Tanner doing shirtless cooking spots on daytime talk shows, such as whipping up easy-breezy tabbouleh with the likes of Ellen. I’d also seen him, shirtless and ripped, on the cover of magazines at the grocery store.
Yet it had taken three women stopping him to pose for pictures on his way to the grill for his identity to finally click in my head.
I’d never felt like such an ass in my life. He probably thought I was insane. And the saddest thing was he wouldn’t have been wrong in that assumption. I was losing my freaking mind. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, grabbing him like I had. Asking him to play along with my stupid game to make Greg jealous. But he’d been so sweet about it that, for a few minutes, I’d forgotten we were playing a game at all.
“Girl, that’s another thing,” Sidney said. “Do we need to get your eyes checked?” She curled her long legs underneath her on the couch, pointedly issuing me an are-you-freaking-crazy slow blink that made me giggle. “I mean, you saw him, right? And he touched your ass. And he held you with his bulging biceps. Oh my God, Rita. Tell me what his abs felt like.”
I shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing my socked feet on the coffee table. “They felt like abs.” Gloriously rippled, contoured muscles made in Heaven. I kept that to myself and focused on suppressing a memory-induced moan.
After Porter had taken off after Charlotte—who had not surprisingly refused to treat his son—I’d been forced to help Tanner with lunch.
Luckily, it had helped sell our relationship to Greg, who had been staring daggers at Tanner from the dunking booth.
Even luckier, Tanner had been so busy cleaning up the mess his brother had made at the grill that he hadn’t talked much.
Then I got even luckier when, an hour later, I was able to duck out of the Fling without anyone noticing.
And then, luckiest of all, I found out that The Golden Girls was available on Hulu, so I spent the afternoon in bed, preparing for my future as the single and jaded Dorothy Zbornak.
“I don’t understand,” Sidney said. “I heard that he was super into you and he went off on Greg for cheating and everything.”
“Who told you that?”
She shrugged. “Beth.”
“And how did Beth hear… Wait, she still talks to Tammy?”
Her chocolate-brown eyes crinkled with apology. “Several of the nurses do. And word travels fast when it comes to you dating a fine-ass man with his own TV show. I’m not going to lie, I love Kent, but I’d give up sex for a year if he’d learn how to cook.”
“I’m not sure that should be your selling point when you try to convince him to attend culinary school.” I tipped my glass up for a long sip while mentally crossing Beth off my Christmas card list. Though I did enjoy the fact that it had looked like Tanner was super into me.
She eyed me suspiciously “So there’s really nothing going on with you and Tanner Reese?”
I set my glass on the end table and swiped a piece of Asiago off the wooden board. Nothing soothed an aching soul like cheese. Except maybe chocolate. And wine. And sushi. Okay, fine, and carbs in general.
“Sorry to disappoint, but my interactions with the mystical shirtless beast were limited to me throwing myself at him, sexually assaulting him, and him taking enough pity on me to help me torture Greg. However, the good news is, unlike Greg, who I’ll have to see again to sign our divorce papers, and Tammy, who I will no doubt run
into one day while she’s carting around Greg’s spawn, I’ll never have to face Tanner again. Though, on the off chance I do, I did check his Instagram when I got home and he hadn’t posted a pic of himself at the police station, filing a restraining order against me, so I think I might be in the clear.”
“Damn,” she whispered, absently lifting a grape to her mouth before thinking better of it and exchanging it for a cracker with Brie. “I was hoping you were keeping a hot, blond secret from me.”
“I should probably get a divorce before I start keeping a hot, blond secret.”
“Fuck that. Greg didn’t offer you that courtesy. You sure as hell don’t owe it to him in return.”
The knife in my stomach twisted. “No. He didn’t, did he?”
She flashed me a tight smile, and then we both fell silent. She went for another cracker, while I stared into space, my mind drifting back to the Fling, only instead of thinking about Greg and stupid pregnant Tammy, it was Tanner who came to mind.
His smile—warm and playful.
His eyes—warm and mischievous.
His arms—warm and comfortable.
Shaking off the memory, I moved for a subject change. “So, what’s new with you?”
She finally gave the poor discarded grape a try, frowning before following it up with a pinch of mini chocolate chips. “Meh. Not much. Kent got a new surround sound system yesterday. It’s become his sole mission in life to see if he can turn it up loud enough to rupture his eardrums. I left him a copy of the alphabet in sign language before I left in case he was finally successful while I was gone.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Wow, how thoughtful of you.”
“I know. I know. Wife of the year.”
We both laughed until my phone on the table beside me lit up, catching my attention. I’d turned the ringer off after Greg had texted me for the twentieth time, stating that we needed to talk. The man was making me crazy. I’d blocked his number, so now, his messages were coming from random email addresses and what I assumed were a zillion dollars in prepaid phones.