Grace brings us lemonade before she and Bill take off for something in the city. And Kelsey decides it’s time to do some yard work and makes a big show of wrestling God-only-knows-what out of the shed.
And Wade… This guy is so completely unexpected.
So sweet.
So comfortable to rest my head on while I devour the first few chapters.
So adorable when he wants to know where I am in the story and how I like it.
So confusing, because he’s so completely different from the men I usually date… But every time he gives me that smile that lasts a little longer than I expect it to, the butterflies start up in my belly and I wonder what it would be like, if just for this one week, I could be different too.
Later, when we’re back at the hotel getting ready to hit the Den, Walt texts, begging off for the bar because Janie’s cousin needed an emergency sitter.
“Do they need any help?” I ask, fastening my gold hoop earring.
“Nah, they’re good,” Wade says from his side of the wall. “Just can’t make it tonight. What do you think, we could stay in and—”
I turn to where Wade’s standing in the archway between our rooms. He’s dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black shirt that’s open at the top and has to be made-to-measure the way it fits around his biceps, chest, and shoulders without hanging like a sail around his abs.
He looks really good.
And he was saying something.
“Sorry, what?”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His eyes rake over me from top to bottom before scanning the space around the suite with a frown.
I shouldn’t have put on the heavier eye makeup, but Janie mentioned dressing up for the night out. “Wade?”
I don’t want him to think I’m a Kelsey. That I’m trying to push for something—
“Let’s get out of here,” Wade says, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step back. “The bar will be great.”
God, he doesn’t even look at me.
“You sure you’re up for going out with it just being the two of us?” I ask, feeling unsure. It’s not like I can take the makeup off without it being weird.
Wade grabs his keys. “This is Enderson. Trust me, it’s never just the two of us.”
The Den is a warm, relaxed space with an open-cabin kind of feel. Everything is made of heavy logs, blond and high gloss. There are high-top tables with tall stools surrounding a bar built from more of the same, and as we push through the heavy door, Wade tells me the owner made almost all of it by hand.
I can’t even imagine having the time or passion for such an undertaking, but the result is gorgeous.
“Damn, baby, get that sweet ass over here!”
Wade laughs, ducking his head at the gravelly voice bellowing across the room. His eyes cut to mine, and he winces. “That’s Tommy. And, don’t take it personally, but he’s talking to me.”
I don’t even have a chance to ask before Wade’s towing me across the bar to an oversized booth built into the corner.
Two of the guys climb out and are smacking Wade’s back, exchanging manly handclaps, while the third sits deep in the booth, watching with a smirk. Wade introduces the first two as Tommy and DJ and then, almost as an unpleasant afterthought, the guy in back as Collin.
Wade signals for a couple more glasses and another pitcher, which land on the table in a matter of seconds. But before we can sit, more friends from high school are coming over. More guys who went to high school with his dad and even a guy whose lawn Wade used to mow stops by.
He tries to introduce me, but everyone’s talking over each other, giving him a hard time about how long it’s been since he was home. Asking about his mom. Talking about some kid they think is going to take them to State.
That part sounds familiar. The arm. The snap. The—
“Yo, Wade’s girl,” the guy from the back of the booth—Collin—says, leaning across the curved bench with a beckoning wave. “The prodigal son’s return always takes a while. Have a beer and take a load off.”
It seems like a better plan than standing awkwardly beside my fake boyfriend while half his graduating class closes in on him. But before I can let go of Wade’s hand, his grip on mine firms and I’m tucked back to his side. Those laughing blue eyes turn hard as they meet Collin’s.
And that is not something I’ve seen from Wade before. Well, maybe close to the one he gave O’Dwyer back at the Five Hole after I humiliated myself in front of him that first day.
“Take it easy, man.” Collin starts climbing out of the booth, grabbing his glass on the way. “Joking. And I’m taking off anyway.”
Wade’s jaw is set hard, the muscle jumping, once, twice, as Collin claps the other guys on the shoulders and then, cutting through the crowd, heads for the exit.
I start to ask, but he shakes his head. “That guy’s trouble. I’ll tell you later.”
There’s an awkward beat, but Tommy clears his throat and wedges his barrel chest past me to slide into the booth himself. Patting the bench beside him, he gives me a wide grin. “Come on, Harlow. Tell me how this guy fast-talked you into a trip to exotic Enderson?”
Wade
I am not a good fucking guy.
Tommy and DJ have been telling Harlow stories about the misadventures of my youth for the last hour, giving her crap about never having watched a football game, giving me crap about how they totally get why she hasn’t seen a hockey game either, and making the girl who isn’t actually mine laugh like… Damn, like I like making her laugh.
And I’m jealous.
Which is crazy because I’m not the jealous type, and it’s bullshit because I’m not supposed to want this to be real. We have a deal. And I don’t want to be the guy flipping the script.
That’s why I had to get her the hell out of that hotel room tonight.
One look at Harlow with those smokey eyes and her hair pinned back so I could see the silky length of her neck on one side—damn—I knew we had to get out. That if we didn’t, I’d end up putting some move on her and being the total douche I’m trying so hard not to be.
One week. That’s all I’ve got to make it. And then once we get past the I Dos, once I have her back in Chicago where she’s got home-ice advantage—then I’ll pull out everything I’ve got.
Probably on her doorstep.
But not now. Not here. Not when I can’t fucking tell if the signals I’m getting off her are about perfecting our fake, or because she’s feeling it too.
Harlow turns in her seat, eyes bright and beautiful, still laughing from whatever story Tommy was telling her. “Wade, you were such a hellion! And here I’d been so sure I was signing on with a good guy.”
I want to be. But even her teasing me with my own words is working against that effort, doing things to me it shouldn’t.
Climbing out of the booth, I hold out my hand, and when she gives me hers, I draw her along with me.
“Are we leaving?”
“No way, Good Girl. We’re dancing.”
Her eyes go wide but I don’t give her a chance to say no before I’m pulling her in against me and spinning her around. And the quick move pays off, because then she’s laughing, her hands against my chest, holding tight to my shirt as she finds her balance.
God, that’s nice.
“Wade! I’m not— I don’t really—”
“Sure you do.” Keeping an arm behind her, I lead us onto the small dance floor that’s been filling up since we arrived.
“So we’re selling it now?” she asks, hands sliding up to my shoulders. “Anyone in particular you’re trying to convince, or just Enderson as a whole?”
Pretty sure I’m selling it to all the guys who keep staring at her, wondering whether they’ve got a shot at the prettiest girl here.
They don’t.
“Sorry about that business with Collin, back there. I wasn’t expecting to see him—though I probably should have.”
“Not you
r favorite person?”
“Not even close.” More than ten years later, and I still can’t think about the guy without feeling like I’m suffocating beneath the weight of his bad choices. “Tommy and DJ say he’s turned it around since high school, but back then? He was the kind of fuckup that could drag you down in a blink.”
Her eyes go wide. “Did something happen with you?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was into some pretty bad shit. And just being near him almost cost me my future.”
She stops moving. “Oh my God, Wade.”
Aww hell, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll tell her the whole story sometime. But not on a night I promised to show her a good time.
“Hey, don’t worry.” I pull her back into motion, holding her a little closer. Giving her the smile she always gives back. “It all got straightened out in the end. But if you want to know why I’m so serious about keeping my nose clean… that guy is it.”
She pats my chest. “You’re a good guy.”
“Don’t forget it, Good Girl.”
We talk and dance. Harlow moves with me, her soft curves driving me out of my mind, her laugh making me ache for more. The next song has a heavier beat, a rhythm we fall into too easily. Our bodies sync up, the space between us becoming nonexistent.
She’s got one hand at the back of my neck. My arm is wrapped around her with my hand on the far side of her waist.
I’m not breaking the rules.
It’s just dancing.
It’s for show.
Harlow’s eyes lift to meet mine. Hold there. Her fingers move through my hair. Mine tighten at the side of her dress.
What if I’m not reading this wrong? What if—
A throat clears.
It’s fucking Tommy standing beside us, his shit-eating grin begging for a fist, hands pressed together into a wedge he’s literally driving between us.
“Enough of that,” he sort of sings with that chainsaw voice, prying us apart. “Wade, don’t be a dick, and stop hogging the girl.”
Dude.
He ignores the threat in my eyes, hip-checking me out of the way to grab Harlow’s hand. And as if cutting in on my girl wasn’t bad enough, the fucker spins her out and then reels her back into his arms in a showy move that makes mine look like crap.
Jesus, I can feel the caveman thumping on my chest.
Okay, maybe I owe Tommy something other than a good beating because that was close.
I head to an open spot at the bar where Carol pushes a water my way.
Delighted, Harlow waves to me from over Tommy’s shoulder. Her face is pure joy, and it’s a hell of a lot safer that I’m seeing it from across the room.
What if she lets me kiss her and things get weird? We’re sharing a hotel room. For another week. The only place she’d have to go is home, and I don’t want it to go that way. I don’t want to lose her.
It’s fine. Nothing happened.
I lean back against the bar, watching Harlow get danced around the Den by my oldest buddy. He dips her, chuckling, while I shore up my friend zone. I remind myself of all the reasons it’s the safest place for us, when reason number one walks through the door.
Kelsey. And she’s already seen me.
Shit.
There’s no pretending I don’t see her. No ignoring the fact that she’s already coming this way. Maybe if I just brush past her with a quick hello and head to the back like I’m going to take a leak, I can dodge another talk.
I push off my stool, but before I take a single step, there’s a warm, soft, and slightly sweaty woman bounding into my arms—Harlow—and I drop back down with a smile.
“Hey there, Good Girl.”
“Miss me, handsome?” she asks with a glint in her eyes that says she saw exactly what was happening.
“Absolutely. But a reunion like this makes it all worthwhile.”
She tosses her head back with a laugh, letting all those rebel ribbons of dark silk shake out. Damn. And when she comes up again, the look in her eyes is—I swallow hard—it’s really fucking convincing. Almost as convincing as the slow, hip-winding dance she’s doing in the vee of my legs.
Down boy. It’s for show.
Her hand snakes up my chest, her fingers walking over the buttons until she reaches the second from the top and one hooks inside. Eyes locked with mine, she bites her bottom lip and draws me in. Closer, closer. So close, I’m hovering a breath above her, my arm supporting her as she bows back.
“Wade,” she murmurs. “If you want to make a point, now seems like a really good time to do it.”
I shouldn’t. I know better. But— “You want to pull the pin on this grenade?”
She nods, one brow arched. “Think you can handle it?”
This girl.
Holding her steady with the arm at her back, I slide my free hand around her neck and take the kiss she’s offering with the barest brush of my mouth over hers. A slow pull and draw against lips that give and part, welcoming that one taste I know I shouldn’t have.
Fuck, she’s sweet.
Sweet and warm and pressing closer, opening wider, linking her arms tighter.
I don’t want to think about the fact that Harlow likes to win. That she gets off on blowing the bell curve. Or that she has an almost compulsive need to follow through on her goals.
All I want is the taste of her mouth, the catch of her breath, and that silky moan begging me to sink deeper, to take more. To haul her against my body and—
Fuck!
Dragging myself back, I shake my head. “Harlow.”
My heart’s pounding, my body fighting my mind.
Our eyes lock. It’s only for a second, but Christ, it’s enough. I want to pull her back into my arms. Find a dark corner and tell her I don’t give a fuck about Kelsey. The only thing that matters is her.
Instead, “We have to stop.”
“Really? Kissing you is pretty fun.” She’s breathless. Those midnight eyes trailing after my mouth. “Maybe we shouldn’t stop just yet.”
I groan, liking the sound of that way too much. “It’s better than fun. But if I kiss you again”—I run my hand over the length of her hair, barely resisting the urge to bury my fingers in it—“it won’t be about Kelsey. It won’t be pretend or just for show.”
Harlow stills. “It won’t?”
“Hell, no, it won’t. I’m trying to be the good guy I promised you I was.” I shake my head. “The truth is, I want you. And if you want to keep things the way they are or be done with them altogether, then that’s what we’ll do. But if you want me to kiss you again—and make no mistake, I want to—then it’s going to be real.”
She wets her bottom lip, meeting my eyes. “You are a good guy. And I appreciate the respect you’ve been showing me.” Fingers trailing down my shirt, she leans in again, letting her lips brush the corner of my mouth. “But what if I don’t want to do the right thing or make the sensible choice? What if I know exactly what this is… and what it isn’t? And, just this once, I want to have some fun with you?”
“Just this once?”
She nods, taking an emboldened step into my space, so once again I have that mind-blowing press of her body against mine.
“Just tonight. No expectations. No consequences.”
Damn it. That’s what I thought she meant. And I can’t be surprised. I’m not her type and her life hasn’t changed… But then neither have I.
I’m still the guy in college who didn’t make sense. The off fit. The guy on the bench who talked his way into one shift in the game. Who knew what was at stake and wouldn’t stop until one shift became one period. One start. One score after another. One tryout. One trip up to the big show because one too many regular players were hurt.
I’m the guy who doesn’t fuck up when he gets a shot.
And that’s what this is.
“Wade, kiss me again.”
Bypassing the lips I want to sink into with everything I have, I bring
my mouth to her ear.
“If tonight’s all I get”—and I’m going to make damn sure it won’t be—“no way am I sharing even one more minute with Kelsey or anyone else here. Time to go, Harlow.”
Chapter 12
Harlow
Wade takes my hand and the bar falls away.
Just this once.
The words run through my mind on repeat, shocking me more each time. I’m so out of my depth I can barely breathe. Can barely think of anything but the firm grasp of his hand around mine and the tiny electric charges tingling up my arm from it.
The cool night air teases my skin as we cross the lot, gravel shifting beneath our feet. Our eyes meet. Our pace quickens. By the time we reach the truck at the back, I’m shaking.
There’s a single weighted beat, so heavy it almost hurts, and then we collide in an urgent crush. The sounds of need and relief meeting on our tongues.
He pins me against the passenger door, kissing me hard.
God, he’s so big.
“Been telling myself to leave you alone,” he growls against my neck. “Been killing me.”
His mouth is everywhere, his hands the same. And I’m drunk on his kiss, drowning in it. There’s nothing but him and me and this burning need for more.
I can’t get enough.
Pressure coils tight in my center and my breasts ache for his touch. It’s never been like this. I’ve never wanted like this.
“Wade,” I gasp, my fingers burrowing deeper into his hair, pulling him closer, begging with my mouth and body for more. More of his tongue. More of his hands. More of that rough, masculine sound rumbling up from deep in his chest when my hips shift against his. Please, more of that.
“Need to touch you.” His hand’s beneath my skirt, fingers slipping higher.
Yes. “Touch me.”
“Feel how wet you are.”
My breath catches and my body quakes.
God, that mouth. So much wetter now.
No one, no one in my life has ever spoken to me like that. And if someone had asked me yesterday if I thought I’d like it, I would have told them no.
DIRTY TALKER Page 8