He digs his heels into the sand and looks out over the crashing ocean. “You should go. Get your ass back out there. Get laid, Whit.”
I smack him lightly and shake my head. “I’m still so weirded out by the concept of sleeping with someone else. Like, what if they’re really different? I don’t know how to handle all this shit.”
“I hope to God they’re different from Two-Minute Troy.”
I roll my eyes and admire the sparkling blue ocean and the rhythmic impact of the waves. Different is scary. New is intimidating. I like comfort and familiarity. I like long-term.
“While we’re on this topic…” Chase turns to me with an eager expression brightening his deep-brown eyes and a dirty-looking half smile sliding across his mouth. “I have a proposal for you.”
I narrow my eyes and turn to him, noticing tiny beads of sweat dotting his sharp jawline and defined nose. Something about the look on his face intrigues and concerns me at the same time. “What kind of proposal?”
“Okay, so I assume you saw how the Riders’ first game against Pittsburgh went last Sunday.” He looks down at the sand.
I swallow hard. I was working during that game, but I caught glimpses of it on the TV in the waiting room, and I know it was a heartbreaker. I also know Chase was pretty much responsible for a lot of the Riders’ screw-ups. “So you’re a little rusty. Don’t sweat it.”
He looks at me and runs a hand through his thick, dirty-blond hair. “I’m tryna be the next Tom Brady, dude. I don’t have time to be rusty.”
“You’re coming to me with football problems?” I chuckle. “I’m a nurse, Kennedy. I can’t exactly help you perfect your spiral.”
“Okay, first of all…” He raises his brows and playfully taps my nose with his finger, making me jump and smile at his touch. “My spiral is already perfect. Second, I’m not asking for your assistance with throwing technique. I need you to start coming to the Riders games. Like, all of them.”
I choke on a laugh. “Oh my God, you don’t still think I’m your good luck charm or whatever, do you? Chase, we were in high school when that was a thing.”
“And college!” he adds.
“Honey…” I offer him an exaggerated look of sympathy. “You’re a great football player, but I didn’t exactly go to Gator games for the sole purpose of bringing you good mojo.”
“But the point is you were there. Sometimes drunk and highly distracted, maybe. But still there.”
I shake my head slowly. “You know, I never really took you for the superstitious type. Besides, I would have to lose shifts at work. So…”
“So what’s in it for you, right?”
I shrug and look back out over the shiny water. “Yeah. If I’m your golden ticket to a winning record, I at least deserve some sort of compensation in exchange for my highly sought-after services.”
He eyes me, biting his bottom lip in a way that undoubtedly gets every girl within a five-mile radius at least a little wet. Except me. Sort of. “I’ll teach you how to fuck.”
“Chase!” I blurt out, the shock of his insane words hitting me harder than the scorching sun.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands and lowers his voice. “I mean make love.”
“Did you get hit on the head at that first game? I think you should see a doctor.”
“Think about it, Whit. You’re terrified of hooking up with anyone who isn’t your lame-o ex. I can help you get more confident in bed. And the shower. And the car.” He juts his chin at the Atlantic Ocean. “And that water.”
I hold up a hand and shut my eyes in disgust. “Okay, I get it. It’s pretty clear that you’ve lost your mind, so I’m gonna go,” I say slowly, standing up and brushing sand off my thighs, my head still spinning from Chase’s stunning offer.
He jumps to his feet and meets my gaze. “We’ve always helped each other out.”
“Yeah.” I snort. “With algebra and hangovers. Not with…that.”
He inches closer to me, filling my nose with the scent of masculinity and the aura of testosterone that just seems to follow Chase around. “Yeah, well…we’re all grown up now. There are new things to help each other with.” He nods and gives me a smile, a hint of flirtation glinting in his commanding gaze.
I let out something between a laugh and a sigh and tilt my head at him, noticing the way the sunlight bounces off his skin, making him even more handsome than usual. “You’re losing your shit, Six. Take a nap or something.”
I pat his rock of a bicep and walk back toward the townhouse. Chase is crazy! I mean, what is he even thinking…that he could teach me how to have sex? And that would somehow be a good idea?
I’ve always known he kinda wanted to sleep with me. But he’s Chase. He wants to sleep with everyone. I’m his best friend, not one of his sleazy pursuits…
No matter how curious I might be about what’s in his pants.
Five
Whitney
“I cannot believe you’re actually dragging me to this thing,” I whine to Melody as we walk through the hall of a relatively nice apartment building, rapidly approaching the dreadful party I somehow got talked into attending.
“Will you hush?” she snaps. Her sparkly nose stud glimmers in the fluorescent lighting. Her makeup is colorful and bold and, well…Melody. “We’re gonna have fun. Fun!” She shakes my shoulders aggressively. “What a concept.”
“Yay, fun,” I groan sarcastically. “I wanna be home by eleven.”
We approach the apartment door, and I can hear the faint pounding bass of the speakers.
Melody turns to me and points a neon-orange-painted finger. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”
I force a wide smile and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Not a buzzkill.”
Melody turns toward the door and grips the handle, pausing to look over her shoulder at me. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams.”
At some crummy apartment party full of strangers and Coors Light? Fat chance. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Mel shoves the door open, and I’m instantly greeted by blaring rap music and a crowded, small apartment. People are mingling in various groups, all holding red SOLO cups. Everyone seems to be laughing and beaming with happiness, totally engaged in whatever conversations they’re having.
I pull in a deep breath and hold my chin high. For all of her crazy pushiness, Melody is right. I’ve spent every weekend for the last six years doing jigsaw puzzles and rewatching The Office with Troy.
Melody rushes off to join a group of hipster-looking guys in the corner of the living room.
I opt to start with a drink and walk toward the kitchen.
“Oh my gosh, Whitney Cooper?” A woman’s voice excitedly calls my name from the other side of the countertop.
“Beth Chang!” I light up with relief at the familiar face of one of my sorority sisters from college, and a beloved one at that. “It’s been forever.” I accept her tight embrace.
Beth is as beautiful as ever, with straight black hair framing her stunningly refined face and glowing skin.
“Way too long.” She smiles. “You’re, like, married, right?”
Her question hits me in the gut, and I push it away with a forced laugh. “Not exactly. Troy and I broke up last week, actually.”
She gasps and hugs me again. “No! I’m so sorry, Whit. How are you doing?”
I finish pouring a vodka soda and swirl it around with some ice. “You know? Not actually as bad as you’d expect.”
“You guys were together for an eternity.” She reaches out and touches my hand.
“Six years. But it felt like an eternity.” I laugh softly, and she joins me. “He just wasn’t the right guy, so…” I shrug.
She raises her plastic cup and grins widely. “On to the next!”
I giggle and tap my cup to hers. “Amen, sister.” I sip the mixed drink and remember Chase’s insane idea from earlier today. I wish I could stop thinking about it.
I chalk up the
incessant imagery to loneliness and, well, sheer curiosity, and shake it off.
Beth links her arm with mine and knocks back a good swig of her drink. She lifts a shoulder and winks at me. “Let’s mingle, shall we?”
I shrug and lean against her. “We shall.”
The party consists of mostly friends and coworkers of Jonah Chapman, the dude who lives in the apartment. Melody knows him from some yoga retreat or something, and the majority of attendees have a very laidback, hippie kind of vibe. The yoga-retreat crowd, I would assume.
“So what brought you here?” I turn to Beth, suddenly realizing that my sorority sister, who’s turned into a sleek, buttoned-up corporate lawyer, doesn’t exactly fit the aesthetic.
She flips her shiny hair and rolls her eyes with a soft laugh. “I met Jonah at some beach bar one night. We’re just friends, but I’m kind of hoping it will turn into more. Do you think that’s possible?”
I purse my lips. “Anything is, I guess.” My mind swivels back to Chase and his dirty, unplatonic idea from earlier. Some friends can turn into more. Some should definitely not.
“I know, it seems silly. He’s not who I expected myself to go for, at all. But, I don’t know, feelings hit you when you least expect it.”
I smile. “I would have pegged you more with…” I take a sip from my cup and scan the room. My eyes fall on a tall, dark-haired man wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and square-framed glasses. “That guy.”
Beth turns to me in disbelief. “You don’t know who that is? That’s Peter Chapman, Jonah’s older brother.” She lowers her voice and puts her mouth right next to my ear. “Totally sexy, totally loaded, and from what I hear, totally looking for someone serious.”
I chew my bottom lip and examine the lean, handsome man who looks like he stepped right off of Wall Street.
Suddenly, I’m wishing I’d worn more makeup and a lower-cut top. “Should I talk to him?” I ask Beth, nerves lacing my voice.
“Hell yes, you should talk to him. That’s some fine hubby material right there.”
I force down the rest of my vodka soda and shake my hair out. That’s the type of man I need. Steady. Stable. Ready for commitment as much as I am. Everything I thought Troy was.
As I walk up to this intimidating specimen of a person, a fleeting thought of what Chase would say enters my mind. He would tease me endlessly for my attraction to what he calls “cubicle guys,” a blanket term for anyone who wears a suit and works in an office.
I shove Chase Kennedy out of my head and feel a jitter of butterflies as Peter catches my eye.
My chest is tight and nervous, and I know I have to impress him. He seems like the type of guy who needs to be impressed. I’m not usually one for exuding self-love or handing out résumés, but I force confidence onto my skin and smile.
“Hi there.” His voice is deep and commanding. He looks at me curiously and extends his arm. “I’m Peter. The brother of the host of this lovely shindig.”
I laugh and awkwardly shake his hand, wondering if I look as tense as I feel. “Whitney Cooper. My cousin Melody knows your brother, so she kinda dragged me here.” I look down sheepishly. “Not that I’m not having a great time!” I add quickly.
Peter swirls his drink and makes direct eye contact, which only adds to the thick wave of nerves prickling my skin. I can’t remember the last time I tried to flirt. I can’t remember how. I mean, Christ, six years is a long time.
Peter raises his brows slowly and studies me. “You don’t look like you’re having a great time, Whitney Cooper.” He draws out each syllable of my name as if he likes the way it tastes.
I sigh and glance around the room. The bass of the music thumps beneath my feet, and my head starts to feel a little fuzzy from the vodka. Or maybe just the giant piece of husband material standing in front of me.
“Need another drink?” Peter gestures toward the bar in the kitchen.
I shake my head quickly. I’m gonna need to keep as clear a mind as I possibly can on my first night out as a single woman in what feels like an eternity.
He gets another drink as I sip on mine, and finally my tension eases. I chat with Peter about random things. His job as a hedge fund manager. His family up in Ponte Vedra Beach. If he’s a dog or cat person. He says neither, but I guess we’ll just have to work on that.
I focus on trying to sound put together and eloquent. To not curse or make sex jokes like I constantly do with Chase. I think hard about the kind of woman a successful businessman like Peter Chapman would want to be with.
Minutes tick by as we laugh and chitchat, and I wonder if this could be it. Maybe I had to stay with the wrong person for so long so I could meet the right one…here…tonight.
I silently curse myself for the pathetic desperation screaming through my brain. I’ve known him for a couple of hours! Even still, he’s so seemingly perfect. We click. He wants commitment and a family and forever.
At some point, Beth Chang comes over and says goodbye to me, giving me a nod of approval and eager eyes.
Peter and I find ourselves sitting on the couch, our cups empty. I’ve been so zeroed in on him, I didn’t realize how much the crowd thinned out. Melody is curled up in a recliner, giggling with a few people and passing around what smells like a joint.
“So disgusting,” Peter mutters to me. “I mean, aren’t we a little old for pot? This isn’t a dorm room, you know?”
I cringe to myself as I think about how Chase and I will occasionally light up a joint of our own during the off-season, watching South Park and laughing until tears run down our faces and one of us ends up ordering Domino’s. “Totally,” I agree. “So immature.”
Peter holds his chiseled chin very high, everything about him giving off an air of superiority. I straighten my back on the sofa.
He looks at me with a blazingly direct gaze. “I would like to see you again, Whitney. You’re a fascinating woman.”
Excitement spirals through me, and I remind myself not to sound eager. “Okay. I would like that, too.” Trying to match Peter, my speech comes out uncharacteristically formal.
“Trouble is, I’m jetting off to London for business early tomorrow morning. I’ll be there for about a month, buried in paperwork and spreadsheets. It won’t be fun.”
I laugh off the note of disappointment settling in my gut.
“But when I get back, let me take you on a proper date. I’m very interested in getting to know you better.”
I smile and look into his brown eyes, which burn with ambition and success and certainty. “That sounds dope!”
Oh God.
He chuckles in amusement. “Okay, then. It will be dope.”
I curse myself again for not having a classier command of the English language.
Peter hands me his phone, and I program my number into his contacts, triple-checking that I typed it right.
He stands up and brushes off his khakis. “Better get going, though. Early flight.”
I stand next to him. “It was absolutely wonderful meeting you.” God, I sound like I’m eighty.
“Likewise, Whitney.” He gives me a hug, and I take a deep breath of his expensive cologne and aura of success.
Peter says goodbye to his brother and heads out the door. As soon as it clicks shut, a relaxed and silly-looking Melody rushes over to sit next to me on the sofa.
“Okay, so…” She snuggles up with me and claps her hands excitedly. “Please dish. Now. What was all that? You and Jonah’s suit-wearing brother were, like, glued to each other this entire night.”
I feel myself blushing, but I don’t care. “I like him, Mel. We’re gonna go out when he gets back from London in a month.”
She squeals and grabs my shoulders. “Oh. Em. Gee! From what Jonah’s told me, he’s super business-y.” She squishes her face into a mock-serious expression. “Hmm, yes, stocks and finances…investments.”
I laugh and shut her up. “He’s successful and stable, and…it seems like he would
be good for me.”
“Well, that is just amazeballs, cuz.” She hops up from the couch and reaches for my hands to pull me up with her. “See? Are you not so completely glad you came?”
I look skyward and stick my tongue out at her. “You were right, and I was wrong,” I say with a playful eye roll. “But I’m actually exhausted.”
“For sure.” Melody holds up her phone and waves it around. “Already called the Uber. Let’s wait downstairs.”
I follow her bouncy pink hair out into the hallway, waving faint goodbyes to the people I didn’t even get to talk to because I was so entranced by Peter.
“So apparently,” Mel starts in a hushed voice as we walk down the hallway, “your Mr. Perfect has quite the history of lovers.”
I swallow hard as we step into the elevator. “I know he’s a bit out of my league, but—”
“Oh hush! No one is out of your league, my beautiful, amazing, brilliant cousin!”
I laugh at the flattery.
“All I’m saying is…the women he’s dated in the past, according to his brother, have all been, like, insanely stunning models, actors, Instagram influencer-type chicks.”
“Mel, I really don’t want to hear about—”
She holds up a hand. “I know, I know. But now…he’s looking for something serious. For someone real. That’s you! Or at least it could be. I just want you to be super clear on something. He’s had about the best there is in bed. Now I know that your IQ is double that of any of his past flings, and you bring a heaping pile of substance and realness to the table in a relationship, which puts you leaps and bounds ahead of any booty-flaunting Instagram model. But as far as the, um, other stuff goes… I know Troy wasn’t the most…sexual.”
“Mel!”
“Well, he wasn’t! Just…you’re gonna have to step it up, you know? Get a little wild.” She shimmies her shoulders and bites her tongue as we step out of the elevator.
It’s well after midnight, and the sticky Florida air melts into my skin. The palm trees glisten in the moonlight, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel excited about someone.
Easy Ride (South Florida Riders Book 3) Page 3