by KB Winters
Tori grabbed my arm and tugged it playfully. “Come on Ev! It’s one night out, it won’t kill you.”
“It might.”
She laughed. “You watch the news too much. It’ll be fine. Seriously, Ev, you’re gonna thank me. Ryker is tall, dark, handsome and I know he could rock your world!”
I swept away from the kitchen, knowing that if I stayed, I was likely to blow up on her. Tori knew I wasn’t looking to date anyone, and that I really wasn’t looking to meet some random club guy. If I was going to ever slow down to try and find my Prince Charming, it certainly wasn’t going to begin with a manhunt inside a sweaty nightclub.
A blind date, with a friend of the guy Tori was currently playing around with wasn’t my idea of a good time.
Not even close.
“Ev! Where are you going? Don’t you want me to tell you about him?” Tori asked, chasing after me.
I stopped in the hallway and turned around to face her. “Not really, cause I’m not going! Sorry, Tor, you’re just gonna have to make an excuse for me.”
Her blue eyes went wide, gawking at me like a blue bird from a Disney movie. “Everlie, please? Bennett and Ryker are good guys! They’re Navy SEALs! We’re doing a service to our country!”
“That might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me,” I replied, not blinking.
Tori rolled her eyes. “All right, fine. I’ll call Chelsea or Monique. I’m sure one of them can come.”
“Perfect.”
I went down the hall to my bedroom, and had nearly gone inside, when Tori added, “Ryker’s gonna be pretty disappointed though. I showed him your picture and he really wants to meet you.”
“You what?” I whipped back around to face Tori, who was trying—and failing—to hold back a smile.
“Well, Ryker wasn’t too thrilled about the whole blind date thing either, I’m telling you Ev, he’s perfect for you! Anyway, when I showed him your picture, he changed his mind and agreed to come along.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm.” She was still smiling at me, and twirling a tight, red spiral curl around her finger, as she watched my wheels spinning. She’d played her last card, and as much as I hated to admit it…it was working.
“And what would this date consist of? I’m not going clubbing.”
“Oh no, no! I insisted on first class all the way! They’re taking us to Vivacite, that fancy new French place,” Tori purred.
Shit. She knew she had me. I’d been dying to try that restaurant since it opened a few months back. However, I’d heard that an appetizer cost more than I made in a day working as an instructor at a non-profit ballet school for underprivileged children. I loved my job more than anything, but working for a non-profit left little wiggle room in my budget for expensive dinners or other small luxuries.
“So…?” Tori prompted.
I sighed. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Yay!” She bounced up and down in the hallway, her curls going wild around her gleeful face. “This is gonna be awesome! I’ve already mentally picked out what you can wear. I’ll do your makeup and hair. You won’t have to worry about a thing!”
“Goodnight, Tor.” I pushed into my room, leaving Tori in the hallway, alone with her plans and schemes.
All I could do was hope I didn’t regret caving in.
As I fell asleep, the final thought rolling around in my mind was that the Chocolate Soufflé better be as amazing as the food critic reviews promised…and that I wasn’t forced to run screaming for my life before it was prepared.
Chapter Three
Everlie
As promised, Tori had everything arranged and laid out for me when I got home from work. When I walked into my bedroom, there was a tiny micro dress on my bed with a pair of black stilettos next to them. I set aside my gym bag and picked up the dress. It was tiny, and I knew that once I had it on, it would leave no curve, fat cells or hollows to the imagination.
“Tori…” I muttered under my breath. I put the dress back onto the bed and went to my closet, determined to find something—anything—else to wear. Vivacite was a very high class place and I refused to go in, looking like a cheap hooker from the strip. My own closet was limited. I worked six days a week, and my uniform was usually a tank top, pair of shorts or leggings, and ballet shoes. I lived in dance clothes, in and out of the dance studio. It was comfortable, familiar, and what I’d grown accustomed to, since starting dance classes at the age of five. However, buried in the back of my closet, I did have a few dresses that I’d purchased for things like job interviews, weddings, and—on rare occasion—dates.
When was my last date?
I retrieved an emerald green cocktail dress from the closet and held it up to my body, spinning around to look at my reflection in the full length mirror I’d mounted on the far wall of my bedroom. I remembered wearing it to a Circ de Soleil show with a guy I met at the dance studio. Ben. He’d been there picking up his little sister from her dance class and we’d got to talking while she was dawdling with her friends. His family was new to the city and he’d asked me to go to the show with him. He was cute, nice, and was very sweet with his little sister, so I’d said yes, and we’d had a great night. As I ran my hands down the soft fabric of the dress, I wondered why he’d never called me to set another date.
I didn’t have a terrible track record with men—I’d never officially been in love, which had the fringe benefit of never having had my heart broken. In high school, I’d been so wrapped up in the ballet world that I hadn’t ever slowed down enough to pay attention to the guys in my class. A lot of my friends tried to set me up, especially around Homecoming or Prom season, but I’d always managed to side step it, knowing even at a young age, that it would only interfere with my practice time, and if I was ever going to make it as a dancer—I couldn’t afford the distraction.
After graduation, my mom had married my asshole of a step-father—not that I ever called him that—Jerry, and I’d moved out on my eighteenth birthday to get away from them. He treated her like crap on the bottom of his shoe, but he had money, a big house, and for whatever reason, she couldn’t say no. When she moved in with him, I went my own way, crashing with friends until I could scrape together enough money to move even further away. Several states away, in fact. We spoke on the phone a couple of times a month, but never for very long, and never about anything important. She spent most of our conversations gloating about her fabulous life in Kentucky, which, I figured was her plan on how to get me to move back home. I didn’t tell her much about my life in Vegas, but made it clear I had no intention of ever moving back to Kentucky again.
Since being in Vegas, finding a relationship was the last thing on my mind. As I neared my twenty-fourth birthday, the clock was ticking on my ballet career. I couldn’t dance forever, and if I ever wanted to see my name in the program under something other than the ensemble cast, I didn’t have time for dating.
And that was a fact Tori just couldn’t wrap her mind around. She was a dancer as well, a lead at the Cherry Cabaret, a popular burlesque club. She was amazing, and very passionate about what she did, but for her, she’d already reached the top of her career, and was free to enjoy herself, where I’d felt like I was on a treadmill to the top, and if I slowed, or stopped, for even a minute—I’d fly off and land back at the bottom again.
“Everlie Harmon! What the hell are you wearing?” Tori scolded, marching into my room, her expression screwed up into an angry scowl.
I had slipped into the emerald dress and was lost in thought while looking for the matching shoes. Her sharp tone startled me and I dropped the pair of shoes in my hands. “Tori, don’t start with me.” I picked up the shoes. “I’m not wearing that, to a four star restaurant!” I gestured to the micro dress she’d picked out. I hadn’t even bothered trying it on, it still lay slung across my bed where she’d left it for me.
She balled her fists and placed them on her hips, glaring at me, her blue eyes narrowed
to tiny slits. “What are you trying to say? That my dress is trashy?”
I sighed. Tori and I got along like sisters ninety-five percent of the time, but there were times when the fact that we were polar opposites threatened to rip us apart. “I’m just saying that on me, that dress would be halfway up my butt cheeks, and I’m pretty sure there is a dress code at Vivacite.”
“Hold it up, let me see,” Tori insisted, grabbing the dress and handing it to me. I rolled my eyes, but did as she asked, holding the dress against my body so she could see how short it would be on me. Tori was a few inches shorter than I was, and while in killer shape from dancing, she had a curvier build. She stepped back to survey the dress and finally nodded. “All right, fine. But, you’re not wearing that thing.” She pointed at me, her lip curled back slightly as though the dress were made of brussels sprouts.
“What’s wrong with this dress?” I protested, spinning back to the mirror. It was a deep, rich green dress with a scoop neck, three quarter sleeves and a modest hemline. It was form fitted enough to show off my figure, but not to the point of making it hard to breathe or keep my boobs contained.
“It has sleeves, first of all…” Tori huffed. “Ev, I’m telling ya, this guy is hot, hot, hot! You have to step it up. He doesn’t want a grandma.”
“I hardly think this is a grandma dress.”
“Seriously, babe, trust me. You’re one rhinestone broach away from being cast as an extra on Golden Girls.”
“Oh my gosh…” I flopped on my bed. “I’ll have you know, I wore this on a date before, and he liked it. He said it brought out my eyes.”
Tori folded her arms, giving me a skeptical glare. “Oh really? And did this date of yours kiss you? Try to get in your panties?”
“No! It was a first date!”
“Okay, did he call you for a second date?”
I faltered with my answer and Tori smiled. “Well, no, but…”
“Exactly!” She pounced before I could come up with an alternate explanation for his sudden MIA status. “Ev, you’re so fucking gorgeous it’s ridiculous. Come on! Long blonde hair, sapphire eyes, killer legs, and amazing tits! You’re the full package, but you’re wasting all that by wrapping yourself in an ugly-ass dress!”
I bit my lip. I’d never considered the reason Ben hadn’t called after the date had anything even remotely to do with how I dressed. But, thinking back, it did seem a little odd that he never tried to hold my hand, or put an arm around me during the show. At the time, I’d taken it that he was trying to be a gentleman and not move too fast. But maybe…just maybe Tori was right…?
“Come on, we’ll find something else. I promise, it’ll be worth it when you see the look on Ryker’s face when he sees you walk in!” Tori grabbed my arm and tugged me off the bed. She dragged me into her room and after another half an hour of negotiations—she had me in a slinky, navy dress made from some type of fabric that shimmered in the light. It was shorter and lower cut than what I would normally wear, but it was draped in a way that made me feel like I could still breathe and move. She curled my hair and did my makeup with an expert hand—a skill she’d picked up from doing burlesque shows.
“Oh my God, Ev. You’re stunning!” She handed me a mirror so I could check the back of my hair, and I stilled with it in my hand, almost not recognizing myself with the smoky makeup and big hair. She took the mirror away from me before I could freak out and threw me a wink as she brushed on another layer of blush. “Ryker is gonna get a hard dick just seeing you like this! Guaranteed!”
“That’s gonna be his problem. I’m not going home with anyone tonight,” I told her resolutely.
She laughed. “Well, technically, you’re going home with me…” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and I smiled as I rolled my eyes. Tori flirted with me, but it was all in good fun. She knew I wasn’t interested in girls, but she kept the offer for experimentation open if I ever got the urge to walk on the wild side.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” I said, taking one final glance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.
“That’s the spirit!” Tori chanted, following me out of the apartment.
* * * *
Vivacite was French for brilliance or liveliness and as we approached the restaurant, I felt a jolt of excitement—but it was more for the idea of diving into their famous Chocolate Soufflé than of the two men who were waiting inside for our arrival. Tori had instructed them to meet us at the bar, so we made our way there, filtering through the small crowd of people waiting for their table.
Tori grasped my arm, pulling me to a sudden stop, a few feet away from the bar. “There,” she whispered, jutting her chin in the direction of two men occupying a table for four in the center. They were both wearing black slacks, but one was wearing a black button down shirt, the other, a navy blue. I was about to ask which one was Ryker, when Tori cooed, “Oh look, you two match. I knew this was the right dress!”
I was about to point out that the dress I was wearing had actually been her third or fourth choice, but my mouth went dry as the man in the blue shirt turned in his seat, just enough that I could see his full profile.
Holy wow. Tori was right…he was hot.
Like crazy, stupid hot. Like Adam Levine hot. Hotter than a—
Tori giggled and elbowed me in the ribs, jolting me out of my musings. “Come on princess Ev, your prince awaits!”
She tugged me back into action and we took a few steps towards them, but my legs refused to match her purposeful strides, and appeared to be torn between propelling me forward, and turning me around and bolting from the restaurant. Ryker and Bennett hadn’t spotted us through the crowd, and it was only a matter of seconds before we would be close enough that there would be no way out of the date.
My heart slammed against my chest, trying to get my attention, to tell me that my lungs were rapidly running out of oxygen and that it was time to bolt, but Tori kept guiding me forward, and all I could do was stare at the perfect man.
He was broad shouldered, his shirt tight enough to show the powerful play of muscles with every move he made. His jaw was sharp, but strong, with a five o’clock shadow that made my knees turn to Jell-O. He had dark hair, so dark that I couldn’t decide if it was black or brown.
Bennett, the man across from him, was equally as gorgeous. I could actually see why Tori had been losing her mind over him. He looked taller than Ryker, and much bigger, broader. He looked up and his face spread into a devastatingly wicked grin, his eyes glimmering with the hint of a forbidden secret, as though just by looking at you, he knew everything you secretly wanted. I shot a sidelong glance at Tori, and saw the same look on her face, reflecting at him.
She might have finally met her match…
Bennett said something to Ryker, and he turned in his seat to face us as we approached. When his dark, brooding eyes met mine, I nearly stumbled in the heels Tori had forced upon me. His lips formed a half smile, and my body’s reaction was even more jarring than when Bennett had flashed his smile our way.
Both men stood at our arrival. “Evening, ladies,” Bennett drawled, shooting a smile at me before returning his eyes to Tori. Ryker nodded and took an appreciative tour of my body with his eyes, not bothering to conceal his appreciation—his eyes darkening until they were nearly jet black.
I cleared my throat, forcing his eyes back to mine. “Ryker Newman.” He offered me his hand.
Hesitantly, I took his hand and shook it firmly. “Everlie Harmon.”
“What are you ladies drinking tonight?” Bennett asked, pulling out the chair next to him. “Our table should be ready in about twenty minutes, so let’s get a drink while we wait.”
“Vodka cranberry,” Tori said, sitting in the chair Bennett had set out for her.
Ryker followed suit, pulling out my chair, and I sank down, smoothing the back of the dress as I sat. “Anything for you?” He asked.
“Uhm, same, I guess.”
Bennett flashed his killer
smile at us. “Comin’ right up.”
They both sauntered towards the bar, and Tori squealed—tearing her eyes away from Bennett’s butt—as she looked at me, her face alight with excitement. “Told you he’d get a hard-on! Damn girl, did you see the way he looked at you? Like he’d eat you out right here on this table!”
“Tori…” I scoffed.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be all scandalized. You saw it too. Now, come on, admit it, he’s gorge!”
My cheeks flared with heat and she laughed, taking that as her answer. I looked away, back to the bar, where the two men stood shoulder to shoulder. Bennett said something to Ryker, and he turned back, locking his eyes with mine, and suddenly, all I could think about was what Tori had said, and imagining what it would be like to have his face between my thighs.
He smiled at me, and a jolt of panic flooded me. The way his lips curled up, and the glint in his eyes made me feel like he’d just read my very dirty thoughts about him. I quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact, but couldn’t help sneaking a peek back over my shoulder a second later, only to find him smiling even wider.
Crap.
Chapter Four
Ryker
“Fuck, man! You hit the jackpot!” Bennett ribbed me with a jab of his elbow, grinning like an idiot, as we waited for the bartender to take our order. “I’m kinda bummed you’re here. How fuckin’ sweet would it be to take them both home?” He looked over his shoulder like a wolf would survey a flock of sheep.
“She’s mine, Marshon,” I warned. Although a blind date wasn’t my idea of a good time, I hadn’t been able to get Everlie out of my mind since her friend had shown me her picture on the phone. And now that I’d seen the full package in real life, I’d made up my mind I’d have her.
I looked over my shoulder, just in time to catch her staring at me and couldn’t help but smile. She’s already caught up in this. She darted her eyes away, her cheeks turning two shades darker than all the makeup she had on her face, and a small chuckle slipped from my lips. “Yeah, she’s in the bag already,” I told Bennett.